I am a train junkie – the whistles and pit-stops that invariably accompany a train journey would be akin to the sensations experienced by a cocaine addict after a swift snort!
My fondness for trains means that I am not similarly fond of buses or air-planes, since I don’t perceive the same magic when I use either form of transport.
However, the ‘Volvo-Vajra’ is an exception. Every Bangalorean worth his or her salt knows and ‘respects’ The Volvo.
It’s too big to ignore. On Indian roads, where might is always right, the big, red, monster trundles down narrow, pot-holed roads, elbowing out everything else. The mantra that pedestrians and motorists follow is simple – fly; never stay and fight!
After being bullied into submission by this weighty vehicle, I parked my compact in the garage and decided to board the Volvo instead. I have loved it since my very first ride.
Stepping into the Volvo’s comfortably climate-controlled interiors, I leave the blazing summer heat behind and sink into welcoming cushiony seating. I always carry a book – but seldom read it; absorbed as I am in watching my co-passengers.
The rides in the Volvo are a rapidly changing tableau of new actors and scenes – a kaleidoscope of human emotions and interactions and I never seem to notice time flitting by, the moments continually framed and sometimes archived in my memories….
A replay of one of my commutes to work:-I am traveling in reverse with my back to the road – the bus-driver imagines he is Schumacher aiming for pole position and ploughs mercilessly into the throng…
5 rows away, Boy in jeans, blue checked shirt, earphones in place and hormones in overdrive, eyes pretty young girl in yellow tee as she titters constantly into her mobile phone. Girl’s instincts, I imagine, feel a pair of eyes on her and she turns around to catch the boy staring. As expected, she quickly looks away and continues tittering; albeit in more pronounced fashion. Exactly 5 seconds later, she pats her hair, curls a stray lock firmly in place behind her ear and surreptitiously (or at least tries to) casts a backward glance at Boy, whose eyes apparently are by now frozen on the scene in front of him. Girl quickly looks away – again; however, the ‘looking away’ is slower this time round…and so it goes on, the forward and backward glance, the overt interest and apparent disinterest. It is another ho-hum courtship as played out in generations of homo-sapiens. Will it not ever get more creative???
2 rows in front of the laws of attraction dance, a man sits, picking his nose and looking dreamily out of the bus. I don’t even want to know what he is thinking and quickly avert my eyes from the socially-challenged specimen.
Instead I train my sights on the person sitting diagonally opposite me, engrossed in a book – I crane my neck to see the cover (am uncharacteristically inquisitive on this particular day) and am amused by the title – “20 ways to be more creative at work” – a how-to book on creativity and innovation? Wow! That indeed is creative!!
The guy sitting next to Picasso has more spiritual aspirations – he is reading Robin Sharma.
Bored, I turn away, only to lock eyes with someone who appears to be watching me...It appears that I am not at the top of the food chain…the thought is sobering and I bury my nose in my book. Ten sentences later, I look up and am glad that Peeping Tom is not around; so I begin scanning all over again.
The bus is getting fuller, now that we have reached Techie Heartland a.k.a Marathahalli – everywhere you can see the unmistakable signs – state-of-the-art mobile phones, Bluetooth, ubiquitous laptop, gelled hair, harried looks. There are no more seats vacant and so the ones standing are now hanging on for dear life, swaying along with the motion of the bus which heaves like a giant ship on troubled seas.
The scene is still fun to watch, though. An especially nimble traveler demonstrates his ability to multi-task while standing on one leg and with one prehensile limb clutching the tenuous hand-rail above – he puts time to good use by reading the day’s paper over another’s shoulder, even while balancing his lunch box in his other free hand.
The conductor, meanwhile, weaves his way in and out of the human maze, selling tickets. He has devised a nifty way to dispense change that does away with having to rummage around in a bag. All the notes he gets in lieu of tickets sold are folded lengthwise and stacked between the fingers of his left hand. Ergo, ten-rupee notes are perched between his thumb and fore-finger, twenty rupee notes between fore and mid-finger, fifties between mid and ring-finger and hundred rupee notes between the ring and little finger. The big-ticket denominations (five-hundred and thousand) are packed in a wad and tucked away into his shirt pocket. It’s fascinating to see him demonstrate sleight of hand – he peels off a ten rupee, leaving the neighbouring notes intact and inserts a fifty without disturbing the arrangement!
Every conductor has his own peculiar flourish which he brings into his daily work - it might be the panache with which he announces a pit-stop, or like in the case above, in the way he manages the days collections...colourful characters in a changing scene...
The ride in the Volvo is easily the most engaging and enjoyable part of my work-day. Every ride is an enchanting landscape of scenes and colour, which is somehow missing, when I drive down to work, ensconsed in in my little car, with no one but Radio One blaring in the background, to keep me company...
(Picture courtesy - bangalore-city.com/transport/bangalore-buses.html)
