Our family makes occasional trips to our home town for a stay at our alternative abode. Generally we drive along, since the journey takes around six hours, or even less if one forgets to apply brakes. But when I need to travel alone, I take the night bus, which has its own story. Recently an invite from a dear friend motivated me to take the bus trip.
My search for a recliner seat proved futile since it was a sleeper bus that I got. As the online payment faced a glitch I quickly called the office and made an offline reservation for the last but one seat and my obliging husband went along to make the payment. The D-night came and I boarded the punctual bus and occupied my seat after spreading my
personal bedcover over it. The windows were surprisingly not jammed and I opened them halfway to let the breeze in during the hot May night. There were privacy curtains on the aisle side and I was comforted. The bus started and soon picked up terrifying speed, flying over potholes and navigating bends with dexterity. The privacy curtains were up in the air and on my face at the same time as all the windows were open! I had initially noticed that the crates being stashed inside the boot were more in number than the human passengers. The law of oneness took over and we, the humans, seemed like potatoes in a crate. I started rolling from side to side and noticed the lady on the next berth clutching the railings for dear life. The potatoes soon morphed into squashy mangoes! Soon a
‘mango’ burst open on the berth diagonally behind. The bus boy came running and cautioned the person not to soil the mattress and to have a bag on hand for such emergencies, although the advice seemed a tad late.
Soon the bus halted and the driver shouted, “Tea, coffee! Half an hour break!” It was 12.30 am. Even as I was wondering as to who would wish for such beverages, a co-passenger shouted loudly, “Sir, sir, can you get me a bottle of water?” She may have paid ‘sir’ through the window and got the water through the same route. She then woke up her companion, perhaps her daughter. Next I heard her voice, “Sir, sir!” No response. Then“Oh appi, appi!” She proceeded, “Appi, dabba lid open maadu…gojju ide, saukaash!”(dear, open the box lid, it contains curry, be careful!”). She passed the box to the ground floor and the unseen “appi” obliged and it was dinner time for the duo. She must have mixed rice and “gojju” and served it to the daughter, who later complained that she could not eat that much. Pat came the loud voice, “Why were you sitting mum when I
served you? Now eat!!” I applauded their courage in stuffing themselves with food at that unearthly hour even after the mango squash episode right behind them. Reverence for the packed food perhaps. Fortunately they both held the food and I held on to my limbs till the bus boy shouted at 4am, “Udupi passengers get down – quick!”, expecting us to leap from the seat and jump from the bus. That is another story for next time.
