Ride on a Delhi bus!!

There are some things you need to go through, for words are woefully inadequate to bring to life the experience. The other day I needed to go to Nehru Place (a 'get all' market in Delhi ) from Noida (a satellite city of Delhi). I dared to take a bus. Stepping onto a rusty footboard, my heart sank at the sight of filth the bus held within its rickety frame and every now and then there seemed to be more people contributing to it!!

None or nothing was more dirtier than the conductor - a very poor specimen of the human race. The man's (distinguishable as a fellow humanbeing entirely on circumstantial evidence!) quest for water, it seemed, was as elusive as our race's quest for it on Mars. Exhibiting and exaggerated itch he frequently rummaged through what was once hair now reduced to a brownish-black clump of husk. Stained by tobacco, betel and other assorted chewable evils his teeth rarely hid behind his furrowed lips. He had a problem with his voice too, having to shout to be heard - his voice seemed to be stuck at his throat until it reached a threshold decibel beyond which it spurted out in a harsh and croaky way. A case of too low to be audible and unbearable when heard!

Handing over a 10 rupee note, I paused with an outstretched hand as I would elsewhere in the country for my ticket, certifying me as bonafide passenger. A look which was both marked by surprise and contempt at my haughtiness indicated to me the crime I committed - that of expecting a ticket, I withdrew.


The bus meanwhile gathered other passengers on the way - people from all walks of life and none a wee bit disturbed at the goings on unlike me. There were a few students, merrily enjoying the joy that is life, a lady so well dressed that she was almost a misfit inside a a public transport, a few office goers some with their ubiquitous laptops hanging from their shoulders (do they take their laptops to the toilets as I take my newspaper?!). All of them settled down comfortably on seats covered by layers of dust and corners with tell-tale red marks some erstwhile betel chewers left for posterity. The bus stopped every now and then on as much as a hint of a human on the road almost as if it assumed that all of humanity wanted to go to Nehru Place. At bus stops the conductor and his cronies, one each on each door, accosted the unsuspecting bystanders to board the bus and I strongly felt a few meek beings agreed even though they were actually bound else where!


It took a most interesting 45 minutes or more to cross the Nizamuddin bridge and the bus had finally picked up speed and now it was the turn of the driver to make life a bit more thrilling. With the skill and haste of a fighter pilot in dog fight he chased countless cars, buses and other vehicles, all of them definitely in a better material condition to take up the challenge than our own squeaky vehicle. However, at the hands of our driver it changed into a demon who seemed to squeeze through minimal width and suddenly appear ahead of an alarmed driver of yet another vehicle which has just been conquered. All the thrill was shortlived as the driver swung the bus sharply to enter a CNG fuel station. That marked the beginning of a half hour wait with all the passengers disembarked for filling up fuel. Even this seemed to surprise or frustrate anyone but me. As I stood reviewing my wisdom of taking the bus I saw novel ways of killing time coming to fore. The students walked up to a push cart and devoured on multi coloured snacks and devilish looking drinks. The well dressed lady promptly let out a tirade against a defaulting supplier on her mobile and the office goer flipped open his laptop! All this was happening perhaps three or four kilometers short of our final destination and having laboured for over an hour to reach the filling station. We did finally manage to reach Nehru Place after well over an hour and a half since we started - a little tired but a lot wiser as to the ways of Delhi on one of its means of transport.