The Bus Diaries III

I was going to work. I boarded the usual bus and sat down in one of the seats reserved for women. It was pretty crowded, as usual. The bus moved along at an idyllic pace that day (quite unusual) and everyone settled in their positions. It was a spring morning but the days were getting hotter by the day. Thankfully, the woman by my side stood some comfortable inches away.

There was a young girl sitting in the seat just in front of mine. Two men were standing near her. The younger one of them was standing uncomfortably close to the girl, who fidgeted in her seat visibly uneasy with the proximity of a man’s crotch near her face. He bumped into her shoulder, again and again. Even a blind could tell she wanted some space and a little respect.

The other man, who was older, and I witnessed what was unfolding in front of us. I looked at him and then at the younger man. Then something happened. After a few seconds the older man stepped in, moved to his side forcing the younger man to step away from the girl. Not a word spoken.

I felt like clapping and giving him a thumb-up. I thought, “We need more of such people.” I felt delighted and gave him a smile. He made my day!

I so wish my story had ended at the last sentence. But it continued. The girl stood up and escorted by her protective father and savior, got off at the next bus stop. I was almost disappointed.

I still wish my story had ended four sentences ago.

The Bus Diaries II

Today, in the morning I got onto a crowded bus to come to work. Taking advantage of the crowd, a man behind me touched my buttocks.

An indescribable mixture of anger, disgust, hatred and shock came over me and I asked, “Haath kahaan jaa raha hai tera?” Feigning innocence, he refused he did anything wrong. I said I could call the police and then no one would reach anywhere on time today. He mocked at me asking me to go ahead. His thick face with cheeks hanging heavy on either side, he contorted his thick lips, which looked like the labia of a whore’s cunt. And for the first time in my life I shouted “chuttiya” in public. I didn’t intend to call the police, though I could have, because I was going to work and I wanted to reach there on time. Just like anyone else.   

Today, in the morning I got onto a crowded bus to come to work. Just like everyone else. But a man behind me touched my buttocks.

And I wonder why. 

The Bus Diaries I

When, as a hungry-for-adventure undergraduate student, I came to Delhi, one of the first things which I found praiseworthy of the city was its efficient and well connected bus service run by the Delhi Transport Corporation( DTC).One can go to almost every nook and corner of the state by bus, which I found pretty amazing.

This is one of (hopefully) many posts which will be coming up on my experiences as a commuter on the buses and roads of Delhi, to and from my lab. I thought I suffer enough already and every day, so why not use the torture as a food for thought. Yes. That's constructive. I always used to enjoy my bus ride before I lost it all in the humdrum of everyday grind and of late, the one and half hour I spend to and fro apiece, was becoming a little taxing. It prompted me to think about applying for a hostel room in the University Hostel for women, which I didn't want to. I had almost lost my sense of humour. So, this is an attempt at rejuvinating my spirits. Here, I'll recount funny and not-so-funny anecdotes which I become involved in or become a spectator to, during my daily bus rides.

Let me start with some incidents which happened earlier as today's travel was so mundane. Once, I was returning to my hostel in North Delhi from a lab. in Okhla in the late afternoon in the summer of 2008. I had got a summer fellowship from the Indian Academy of Science and was doing my summer internship in that lab. That meant it was summer vacation and I was not home.

On my way back, this guy came to where I was sitting.He asked me if he could sit there if I didn't mind. I thought "Sit wherever you like" but said, "Oh yes". He gave a congenial smile, which I returned. He told me he had just come to Delhi and joined an office that day itself. I found him bothersome at first, because in Delhi talking to strangers is not always a good experience. He said he was from Rajasthan. I don't remember his name. He asked me what I did. I said I was doing my masters, to which he said I looked "like a baby". This was a really amusing way of putting what had become a common comment on my looks.

We travelled together for a very short duration but he did leave an impression on my impressionable mind. He said, "We met by chance today and we will meet again if destined, it would be nice if our paths crossed again. Aise hi toh log milte hain (that's exactly how people meet)." I've not met him again. Perhaps, he came for a fleeting moment carrying a message to remind me of the small world we live in with the multitude of people, carrying with themselves stories to pass on to someone who'ld listen and hopefully understand. Its interesting how it added to a feeling I had grown up with all along, that I'm a traveller at heart, a wanderer. And it seemed the journey had just started.