"Atleast take an autorickshaw", mom yells. A bit despairingly.
"I'll see", I murmur and lunge out of the house quickly. We both know I won't.
Now no longer possessing the stomach of steel, a reputation effectively washed away during the numerous trips to the WC on my first day here, it was my only chance to prove that after spending two years in Netherlands, I still had it in me to go through the grind and the rigour this city demands from its commoner. And as the bus (or TB as I like to call it) rolled to a halt at the bus stop, with its jam-packed interiors and audibly vibrating metal structure, TB just wreaked of redemption, albeit a slightly fetid kind.
Traveling by public transport is my way of reconnecting with Delhi, for whatever brief time I had here. A crowded bus/metro is one of the few places where total strangers forget about their personal space and commute together. We lament about politicians and Dravid's form, and share those interesting anecdotes about the time we ran into a celebrity (or the celebrity ran into you, as you mischievously emphasize). We allow others to stand in on our ongoing conversation and feet. We curse the same potholes, and welcome that same breeze of fresh air sneaking in through the window as the bus finds a clear stretch of road. For that duration of journey, its more than a group of individuals that travels. A communal mass with shared concerns and similar destinations.
And travel we did. From Mayur Vihar to CP to Dwarka to Gurgaon, and all the way back. Six hours of small talk, gossip and day-to-day insights into current events and life in general - my contribution to the white noise emanating from all the parallel conversations. And during these six hours, nobody assumed I lived abroad. For once the questions did not concern the Dutch weather and Amsterdam's night-life. And for that fraction of a day, I was a part of them, a face among kindred faces, moving under the same steel-and-glass canopy. 40 km/h max.
3 comments:
Wow, I never thought I'd ever read a romanticised version of a Delhi bus ride from a Delhite.
In all my years in Delhi, I never once shared small talk with strangers on a bus.. because they tended to be a sweaty, angry, filthy group that was more interested in finding a few inches of space to stand in than in exchanging polite conversation.
The metro crowds were more genteel.. (and I believe the AC's had a lot to do with that) but even there, conversation with strangers was infrequent.
Have the Delhi buses become a more pleasant environment in the last few years or are you so European now that you find the filthiness "oh so delightfully quaint" :) ?
"In all my years in Delhi, I never once shared small talk with strangers on a bus.. because they tended to be a sweaty, angry, filthy group that was more interested in finding a few inches of space to stand in than in exchanging polite conversation."
Well you obviously never took a bus ride with me :)
Now I'm SURE Anonymous is a girl (or gay). If this is the same Anonymous, that is. Its a surprisingly common name, innit?
But seriously Rohan, you obviously never traveled in a Delhi bus as a girl. Sigh. Someday I will tell you about the old man waving at me from the end of the bus to sit next to him. (Sweet Uncle, I thought, until the conductor mercifully rescued me from some serious mental scarring by forbidding me to step in that half of the bus.) Refreshing take, nonetheless. You almost make me miss Delhi. And for a girl, that's saying something!
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