"It is my goddamn right to be in this bus and you damn better not ask me to get off it !!!" I was about to scream at the top of my lungs.
How did it come to this? Less than 30 minutes ago I was speeding home in an ultra-modern chauffeured SUV and with the air conditioning in full blast, one that was giving us less than 11 miles to the gallon... and now I am about to trade blows with the conductor of a crowded bus, a ticket of which costs Rs. 9 (17 cents) for a 23 km journey.
It all started yesterday when my cousin sent another such vehicle to pick me up from home (I accepted the offer as I needed to clear my mind) to be dropped off at his remote retreat in a jungle about a 4 hour drive away. At 33, he is quite the self made man and having started off from scratch after college, he now runs three different businesses and recently started two more to fund his own racing team. I spent the afternoon and evening at an even more remote location with some of his interesting friends; the type who make a trip to London to receive a photography prize at the Natural History Museum in the dead week between two car races. Having grown up in the upper middle (which in India means the top 1-2%) class in Coimbatore, this is the India I am familiar with, especially in my stints home the past decade. Entrepreneurship in Coimbatore - the small city with big money - is perhaps more ingrained than in Silicon Valley (although you could substitute the word 'innovation' with 'imitation', 'high tech' with 'manufacturing' and 'billion dollar ideas' with 'million dollar banality') and enterprising people abound. Things have been so good lately (for the fortunate 5%, about a third of whom depend on money pumped from their progeny in the United States) that real estate and apartment prices are now much higher than in Bangalore. If I were to buy an suitable apartment in a good residential location, I am looking at shelling out upwards of $175,000 (not including about $25000 worth of furnishing) in a city where the median annual income of a middle class family is probably less than $5000 (when adjusted for a PPP factor of 3, this doesn't look too bad, but it also takes apartment prices to Silicon Valley levels). I read, think and theorize a good deal about the plight of the common Indian and while (I think) I have a reasonable understanding of the general difficulties, I must say that I have probably never experienced the daily grind and with the skyrocketing inequality, I have been wanting to do something about it.
This morning, after a short walk in the forest, I was ready to get back home and my cousin was insistent that I should be chauffeured home again. On the way home, however, I convinced the driver that I should be dropped off three fourths of the way and that I would find the rest of my way home using public transport, and that too of the cheapest variety. So I got off at the bus terminus in some place X and needed to get to place Y to catch a connecting bus home. I was about to wander off in search of the ticket counter when the driver told me that there was no such thing as a ticket booth and that I was supposed to buy my ticket on the bus. So I got on a bus that was on it's way from X to Z via Y as per the sign on the side of the bus. Z was about 45 km and Y was roughly half way.
I got on it, fit myself into a seat that has a leg room of about one third of that in the local flights (or one half of that in Southwest Airlines) I had taken a few weeks ago. To enrich the experience, I even got myself a Rs. 5 portion of hot Sundal (fried masala chickpeas for the uninitiated) wrapped in a cone shaped piece of newspaper, served off an open bucket. When I was about to gleefully consume it, the bus conductor started shouting "If you're just planning to go to Y, you better get off the bus. Preference is for those traveling to Z". Some people started complaining and the conductor was like "Preference is for Z, all those planning to get off at Y better get the heck out". More protests, more of the same. Shit got real when the conductor asked me where I was going and (somewhat more politely) told me that it would be a good idea to get off. I was kinda confused and was unsure whether this was because the bus wasn't planning to stop in Y or whether he was screwing the good few Y people who were comfortably seated because the Z people were more lucrative customers. I got off with a bevy of frustrated folks getting their displeasure heard more amongst themselves rather than to the conductor albeit in a non belligerent manner.
I got on it, fit myself into a seat that has a leg room of about one third of that in the local flights (or one half of that in Southwest Airlines) I had taken a few weeks ago. To enrich the experience, I even got myself a Rs. 5 portion of hot Sundal (fried masala chickpeas for the uninitiated) wrapped in a cone shaped piece of newspaper, served off an open bucket. When I was about to gleefully consume it, the bus conductor started shouting "If you're just planning to go to Y, you better get off the bus. Preference is for those traveling to Z". Some people started complaining and the conductor was like "Preference is for Z, all those planning to get off at Y better get the heck out". More protests, more of the same. Shit got real when the conductor asked me where I was going and (somewhat more politely) told me that it would be a good idea to get off. I was kinda confused and was unsure whether this was because the bus wasn't planning to stop in Y or whether he was screwing the good few Y people who were comfortably seated because the Z people were more lucrative customers. I got off with a bevy of frustrated folks getting their displeasure heard more amongst themselves rather than to the conductor albeit in a non belligerent manner.
So I stood on the pavement and was trying to figure this deal out over my surprisingly delicious Sundal. I did confirm with one of the victims that the conductor did indeed screw us over and before I returned after a failed sojourn to find a trash can (this might be about as bad as locating one in Blighty, but I was not going to litter the place like many of my fellow countrymen or the Neds in Glasgee for that matter), the bus took off. I did find a few of the victims sticking around, but not all.
I carefully wrapped the almost empty sundal packet, stuffed it into my pocket and started to think BIG. BIG, as in the kind of ideas mainly NRIs are capable of. I would take off my Roger Federer hat, ruffle my hair, hide the $1300 worth of electronics deep into my backpack and act mean. If the conductor in the next bus does the same thing, I would stand my ground and yell at him along the lines of
"What do you think you're doing? It is clearly written on the side of the bus that this bus will stop in Y and I know for sure it will stop in Y. I got to my seat a full 10 minutes before the other guys did. It is my goddamn right to be on this bus and you better damn well not ask me to get off it. If you still insist, I want your name and am going to take action. If you want to remove me, you have to do so physically.. not just me but all the other Y people" at which point, there would be more people who join the cause and a minor battle would be won for the common people.
Sure enough, the next bus rolled in and I watched the conductor go 'Only people to Z... Only people to Z... Y people better not get in' for about five minutes. I got in nevertheless and was rehearsing my tirade and made sure I stood right next to the conductor. The bus was getting quite incredibly crowded and the conductor stopped yelling the pleasantries and bus took off a few minutes thereafter. I was the first to buy a ticket and when I said 'One ticket to Y', he gave me a ticket and was rather indifferent about it. The next 7 or 8 takers were all Y people and the rest were pretty much Z folks. Then I got it - He just made sure the longer haul people were seated and didn't care two hoots about what happened after that.
So what did I learn from all this? a) That injustice can come at you in many forms, b) That most people don't complain when screwed, c) You really can't predict how you might be treated - Your experiences will be slightly different every time unlike in the developed or upper middle class world, d) Be ready to take a stand the next time lest that opportunity slip, e) You just wasted a bunch of your time reading this blog, and most importantly, f) To never shove even an almost fully finished Sundal pack in your pocket - I thought I was pretty careful, but by the time my journey was half complete, my pocket was a mush.
So as the 52 seat bus (crammed with 70 people) took off, it made an unspecified stop; about 10 people got off and 10 got in... admist the crowd, the conductor was skillfully navigating his way and getting tickets to his new clientele; some people made way for an OLD lady and someone offered his seat (gasp); a couple of standing (possibly Y) folks were entertaining a (possibly Z) baby seated on her mother's lap and was probably uncomfortable with the crowd while her mother was quite seriously reading a 'how to speak Hindi clearly' book; someone (possibly one of the victims from the previous incident) started a conversation with me in broken English about the welfare policies of the government and its impact on the local economy; a group of young kids were rhythmically tapping the ceiling to the beats of a catchy song blaring from the speakers of the bus; It all seemed to come together for everyone in bus and life just chugged along.
Just another day in the ebb and flow of life in this country. Change will come when it comes. Humanity gets by, collaborating when necessary, berating when not, but always with the bottom line in mind. Not unlike the few missed heart beats that I initially experienced on the "hair pin bends" on the way down from the hills. Sure, one in a million is going to die, but the rest of us just get by juuust fine.
ps: Yes.. you guessed it, the last paragraph was just a (poor) attempt at getting at least a blog post out of the non-event.... and yes, the entire post is supposed to radiate the NRI naivete.
