Its not the destination, but the journey that counts, and is usually more eventful.. not to mention nerve wracking. This is especially true if the journey in question is a two-way one hour plus tortuous commute from one end of the city to another, in a crowded bus in the sweltering heat of Chennai. I emerge from these journeys disheveled, breathless and with a sense of blessed relief. The MTCs are a boon to all those, like my friend and i, who rely on public transport for long distances cause we’re too chicken to drive ourselves. A well-oiled system is in existence, with plenty of buses, most of them pretty decent- and best of all, the answer to all our prayers, the deluxe air conditioned bus. Deliciously cool, tinted windows to ward off the evil rays of le sol, comfy seats, super fast and barely any crowd at all, they are a joy to travel in! So, problem solved you may say… not quite. Life has an uncanny knack of knowing how to throw in a spanner and bung up the works. These buses are supposedly perfectly timed,. And in fact were a couple of months back. Lately however, we don’t seem to be able to so much as sniff a deluxe bus, in spite of running till we had stitches down our sides so that we could get to the stop on “time” for the elusive vehicle.
And hence, we get stuck with the ordinary ones.. muggy, scorching heat and copious amounts of fine dust pouring in through the large windows, icky-sweaty crowds, jostling each other with great gusto, reckless guys hanging precariously from the footboard, their only safeguard being a one-handed grip on a window bar, grouchy drivers and cantankerous conductors. The worst to have to put up with when we get a seat, is the bundles of unwieldy packages that are shoved onto our laps by the more unlucky lot. Once in a while though, when we’ve waited and waited for ages at the stop, rejecting every bus that looks rundown or has any standing passengers, we give up and decide to board the very next bus that comes by. The upshot?- a miserable hour spent standing in a bus driven by a maniac who loves swerving wildly, while we get tossed around like a sack of potatoes. In some buses we’re saved the bother of trying to maintain balance, as all of us are packed tightly together like a tin of sardines! A solid tangle of arms faces and legs, fighting tooth and nail for breathing space, while trying (in vain) to put in as much distance as possible between our noses and the various smelly armpits in the vicinity.
All said and done, these buses can be very amusing – if you’re not being squashed to a pulp that is. It’s the perfect place to watch the idiosyncrasies of various people in action. A fussy mother berating her bratty children for the ruckus they caused, two old maamis discussing in loving detail their new gold earrings, a couple of schools kids studying furiously, a ‘business’man bellowing in ‘yingilish’ into his shiny phone, a wailing baby being bounced up and down by a harassed looking dad, a bunch of college students spouting pjs and laughing raucously , a young woman powdering her nose and arranging her bouquet of mallipoo with great care and concentration, well aware of the attention she is garnering from a sunglass sporting, lurid pink toting guy, ogling openly, and topped off by a conductor yelling at anyone who dint have their exact change ready within 2 seconds of their having boarded the bus.. Little wonder then that we spend quite a bit of time giggling stupidly, trying desperately to hide our snorts of laughter behind hankies, bags or cellphones (!), while the rest of the bus glare suspiciously at us! J
