The way we travelled

When I see today's ultra-modern buses in India, I envy them. Sometimes, I ask myself; why did not these luxury coaches with fine window curtains, reading lights for every passenger, reclining cushioned seats etc appear on the scene in the earlier days?

Once, while travelling in a modern-day bus, I was transported to the era when going by even a rickety bus (called lorry those days) in the then United Provinces of Agra and Oudh was beyond the means of the average man.

Secondary roads were awful. They were not made of bitumen and concrete and raised a lot of mud and dust. I was with my family on way to Atrauli, a satellite town some 30-35 kms from the district headquarters. On reaching the lorry stand, I looked for a clean and comfortable-looking vehicle. I spotted one but as it was scheduled to leave after about an hour, I chose to utilise the time to inspect the vehicle closely.

The private bus had a first class and a second class. The first class was made up of a 15-inch wide wooden bench behind the driver's seat that could accommodate five or six persons. Foam had not been invented yet so a cotton-filled cover worked as an apology for it.

The rest of the bus was second class, meant for the less privileged. It had four long wooden benches fixed lengthwise, that is, stretching from the first class right up to the rear. The two benches in the middle were joined back to back. Thus, all the passengers in the second class sat facing each other.

By now, it was time to leave. We occupied our seats in the first class. The lorry moved on a memorable journey. I could see through the grille all that was happening in the second class.

The first thing that struck me was the sight of the bus conductor-cum-cleaner giving the driver a go-ahead and then boarding the bus from the rear door.

The man stood all throughout the journey at the door. He carried a nice big leather bag (containing tickets and cash) slung diagonally from his shoulder over a soiled vest and a more soiled striped underwear.

As the bus moved on the bumpy road, the lengthy leather bag, often threatened to roll up the underwear. But it did not matter to him.

He quickly checked the tickets, jumped out of the slow moving bus and entered our first class. He checked our tickets, discussed with the driver the cash proceeds and went back to the lower class once again by the same route while the bus was in motion.

Acting in unison

I noticed that whenever the driver applied brakes, the second class passengers would shake sideways, lean on the neighbour's shoulders, all acting in unison. Nobody would mind because it was a community action, I mean everybody was doing it, because the structure of the bus was such.

On the contrary, the privileged first class passengers were shaking only forwards because at the rear was a grille made of brass that divided the upper and lower classes. A couple of passengers sitting just behind the driver's seat often appeared almost hitting the driver or his seat with their nose. There was no support to hold them back.

The bus owner was, however, very particular about keeping the grille glistening with brass polish, for after all, the upper class passengers paid more.

What struck me most was that the lorry's wheels were moving effortlessly in two parallel grooves in the muddy road. Apparently, these had been carved out by the constant movement of buses on the muddy route. I was amused that for drivers, it was almost like hands-free driving!

The road being narrow, it had only one pair of groves to serve the buses coming from both the directions. On spotting a bus coming from the opposite side, one of the drivers would take the moving bus out of the grooves to give way to the other vehicle. And then it would be back in its place once again.

Finally, we reached our destination. On disembarking, we did a virtual count of our bones and muscles and thanked god for transporting us safely.

Lalith Raizada is a journalist based in India.