There are many adventurous activities. I want the World Sports body to recognize ‘bus travel in Kolkata’ as one such activity where there isn’t any paucity for thrill, grill and drill. You have to cling on to your dear life till the end.
Overcrowded or jam-packed is an understatement. Friends, you can help me here with an apt word. The word must pack enough pain similar to being crushed by an elephant or grinded by wife! Bachelors will never know. The buses come so crowded and it will be hardly visible. People will be sticking to it like in Fevicol add. Buses will stop anywhere and everywhere except bus stop. Even if you stifle a yawn with outstretched hands, the bus will stop. But still it won’t be possible to reach the bus as two wheelers and autos cross it on both sides. You have to shout at the conductor like Hindi film heroine who is kidnapped. When the bus stops, some people are ejected and you can see the new found freedom in their faces. An half an hour journey exhausts 750 calories which is equal to 1 hour work out in gym or washing of a week’s family clothes by married men on Sundays. If you board the bus with apple, you will get down with apple juice, without any added preservatives, of course. If you carry coconut, you will get down with coconut oil. If you carry a baby, now don’t imagine things. You won’t get baby oil. Daily I travel a few kms hanging on the bus on some one’s foot or shoulder till I reach the first step. And then I will be sucked inside the crusher.
You don’t have to worry about climbing the bus steps. You will be transported in escalator style. If you land in dark place, then you are in the ladies side, with all that free flowing hair. You have to comb through them as they hate to control the hair. If it is red, then you are in men’s side, with all that paan and black teeth, some people can kill the snakes with single bite. Poor dentists. While ladies compete with each other in eating, men are busy competing in spitting like titanic couple. Actually we must get patent for spitting. I never sit near the window as my seat sharer will eventually spit across my face. I graciously spare the window seats. For that matter I never get seats as the bus owner seems to be hiring people to prevent me from sitting in the bus.
When we ache for air inside the bus like fish out of water, the conductors always shout “Andhar kaali hey”. They must be meaning our heads, for travelling in their buses. With all that sweat, congestion and smell, bofar’s gas will fall on its knees and beg not to pollute it. But we are gas proof. Tickets are printed on papers taken from shredding machines. Re-recycling, you see.
Buses move at snail pace. You can occasionally drop down for a cup of tea and catch the bus again. Drivers ply the buses like auto, with lots of jerks and rapid turns missing other buses by millimeters. He is the chief trainer who helps to build our muscles by compelling us to hold on. The side effect is we always bulge at the wrong places.
Buses are like chariots. Half of them wooden. With so much daily load, they still move. Now you believe in God, Don’t you?
I learnt of some conductor vacancies. If you want after this, forward your resume to me. After all what friends are for!