Bus Karo

Mumbai has a pretty efficient bus system. I took the bus to work on Friday and repeated the experience today.

Being a Monday morning, the buses were slightly crowded, unlike Friday when I got a place to sit from Mahim. I had to miss at least three buses before getting on to one with some breathing space.

AAAGE CHALO yelled the conductor and I dutifully obeyed. He could sense that I am not a regular. I pressed a tenner in his hand and asked him to give me a ticket to anywhere close to Nariman Point. He was now sure that I am an experience seeker and not a commuter. He asked me for another rupee and said that Mantralaya would be the right stop. I moved further down until I was almost behind the driver.

It was about 7 minutes into the commute, when I heard the conductor screaming OO MANTRALAYA OOO MANTRALAYA. I hunched, looked outside and realized we had arrived at the Shiv Sena Bhavan. It suddenly dawned on me that the conductor was probably a loyal foot soldier of the militant Maratha party and he passionately believed that they would be in power soon, making this destination the new mantralaya. The joyous cries of OO MANTRALAYA OOO MANTRALAYA continue and I feel someone tapping my shoulder. I turn around and notice that the yelling conductor has reserved a seat for me somewhere in the middle. He tells the others to let me sit as I am doing a long distance. Surprisingly the people around are ok with this. I look at a lady standing right next to the empty seat and feel a tinge of guilt. She in turn smiles and ushers me to my seat. Wah this is the spirit of Mumbai and not the silly hype which the media propels the morning after every bomb blast capitalizes on the helplessness of Mumbaikars going to work.


SIDHIVINAYAK CHALA SIDHIVINAK UTRA. I see the lady next to me joining her palms in namaste. I almost reciprocate but I stop myself just in time, realizing it’s for the deity. Across the aisle a gentleman has finished his prayer and is getting back into his chappals. AAAE RAMBO AAAE RAMBO screams a young teenager. From his tone you know that he is just getting used to this new manly voice he has got a few days back. Rambo who is waiting at the bus stops responds and asks his friends inside “Which college?”. The boy who was screaming loudly just realizes a loss of voice. The bus moves on, and as Rambo begins fading into the traffic, the boy’s voice miraculously returns. He turns to his friend and whispers, “How was i supposed to tell him that i got into Andrew’s!”. His friend, a studious looking sardar says 78% mila, putting his head down. The other guy who was till this moment an underachiever is now consoling him! There’s always someone worse off than you in this city for whom you will always have sympathy.

CENTURY CHALO BENGAL CENTURY UTRA. I am looking out of the window at the unfortunate millions in their AC cars looking glum. Sounds of someone crying disturb me. It’s two teenagers, this time girls. One of them was laughing. Laughing? What is with these kids and their voices? The girls are not talking about admissions or college. I assume that they are in their second year. “ No he is not dead” “ I bought it that day only” “But that one dies ….he he….not at all” “ I will Finish it today” . I know for sure they are talking about the new Potter book. They are as clued in to the mania as any average teenager in New York or London. There’s a noticeable difference between them. One is very stylish while the other is a student. The stylish girl’s hand bag and wrist watch are coordinated. The other girl has a haversack and till date there’s no wrist watch that you can coordinate with it. I also begin to wonder whether the stylish girl is carrying too little to college or the other one is lugging too much. One has a hair style while the other has hair. At the next stop, the aisle seats next to me and the one in front get empty. The student sits next to me and her friend takes the other seat. Now like synchronized swimmers they reach for their bags unzip it, dig in and take out their headphones and music devices. The girl in front has an ipod and the one next to me, a cell phone that plays music. Now they have shut themselves from Mumbai. I take a look around and see that many in the bus have done the same.

I decide not to dig into my bag and use my ipod. I have no choice but to look at various interesting billboards, but that’s another story.