It was like any other morning. Bubbly little kids, waiting for their school buses with their sleepy fathers, were clad in full sleeve sweaters -- it was a cold Bangalore winter. The flyover at Nayandahalli was still under construction which meant long waits at the Outer ring road - Mysore road junction. Early in the mornings, around 7 - 8AM, the wait would be max 5 only (which bloated to 30-40 min during the day), but each and every second counts in that rush hour. A 5minute delay at starting point translates to 15min delay in reaching the destination.
After a brisk walk listening to the calls of the bulbuls, making sure that the munias are still there in the lantana bushes in spite of NICE men at work close by (they cleared the whole area of all bushes eventually), I reached the bus stop. Given a source and destination, a bus-pass holder's journey is very very different from that of a pass-less traveler. I normally take 4-5 buses to reach office! As I reached the bus stop, was delighted to see a bus about to arrive there. I would just get off in very next stop! (Network theory will have to be reworked for a weight called pass! :))
Now, between this stop and the next is the dreaded wait-junction. And as I climbed into the bus, heard the screaming conductor. He was shouting at somebody who had not bought a ticket. He was at the top of his voice with 'it is due to people of your kind that this country does not progress', 'if a ticket-checker comes, you will have to shell out 10 times this ticket price' and so on. Only when the bus stopped at the junction did I hear the feeble voice of the person he was angry at. Normally conductors dont get into arguments early in the mornings; their patience wane only by evenings. And here it was with a woman. Now that is very rare! The feeble voice kept repeating one thing 'Give it back to me, I need to go to work. It is getting late'. The lady was supposed to get off at the junction. The conductor had confiscated something from the lady. What authority did he have to do that! Many people had got off at the junction and the body languages of the attacker and the attacked was also clear now. The lady was holding a tiffin-box in her left hand while she pressed against her chest the tip of the saree which had come round her neck. She was leaning against a vertical rod stretching her right hand towards the angry conductor. The fellow had the audacity to say 'I have seen thousand ladies of your kind. If the woman at my home (his wife) was of your kind, I would have ground her under the stone (miming with his palms)' (this is too loooose a translation - in kannaDa: ನಮ್ಮನೆ ಹೆಂಗಸು ನಿಂಥರದೊಳ್ ಆಗಿದ್ದಿದ್ರೆ ಅರಿಯೋ ಕಲ್ಮೇಲ್ಹಾಕಿ ಅರಿದುಬಿಡ್ತ್ತಿದ್ದೆ). And still the lady had the same pleading words 'Give it, it is getting late. I have house keys in that...'. This conductor's behaviour was too much to listen to, and I am sure all others in the bus had got annoyed too. The conductor sensed it. The bus was out of its short waiting period now and the woman started pleading even more constantly with 'ರಿ ಕೊಡ್ರಿ...' (in hindi 'दीजिये जी') I simply cant translate it in english and know well that I have not represented the contrast between abusiveness of conductor's addressing and the woman's respectful 'ji' usage in spite of listening to all that.
Another lady who was seated nearby turned to this woman and asked 'how much were you supposed to give?'
Woman: 'only three rupees amma...'
Even in those days there was no ticket for 3 rupees in a red board bus. This was becoming curiouser. The seated lady rummaged in her hand bag, picked some coins and gave it to the woman. The still growling conductor took it, walked to the driver's area, picked the little valet, and thrust it in the woman's waiting hand. By then the next stop had come. Once out of the bus, suddenly the woman seemed to have found her voice. She started using swear words at the conductor. The bus chugged on.
I could not believe what had just unfolded - all that verbal abuse was for mere three rupees!! My head tried to weigh, measure and balance morality, values, abuse, struggle to survive and so on, for several more hours that day. And the scene is as clear as ever!
After a brisk walk listening to the calls of the bulbuls, making sure that the munias are still there in the lantana bushes in spite of NICE men at work close by (they cleared the whole area of all bushes eventually), I reached the bus stop. Given a source and destination, a bus-pass holder's journey is very very different from that of a pass-less traveler. I normally take 4-5 buses to reach office! As I reached the bus stop, was delighted to see a bus about to arrive there. I would just get off in very next stop! (Network theory will have to be reworked for a weight called pass! :))
Now, between this stop and the next is the dreaded wait-junction. And as I climbed into the bus, heard the screaming conductor. He was shouting at somebody who had not bought a ticket. He was at the top of his voice with 'it is due to people of your kind that this country does not progress', 'if a ticket-checker comes, you will have to shell out 10 times this ticket price' and so on. Only when the bus stopped at the junction did I hear the feeble voice of the person he was angry at. Normally conductors dont get into arguments early in the mornings; their patience wane only by evenings. And here it was with a woman. Now that is very rare! The feeble voice kept repeating one thing 'Give it back to me, I need to go to work. It is getting late'. The lady was supposed to get off at the junction. The conductor had confiscated something from the lady. What authority did he have to do that! Many people had got off at the junction and the body languages of the attacker and the attacked was also clear now. The lady was holding a tiffin-box in her left hand while she pressed against her chest the tip of the saree which had come round her neck. She was leaning against a vertical rod stretching her right hand towards the angry conductor. The fellow had the audacity to say 'I have seen thousand ladies of your kind. If the woman at my home (his wife) was of your kind, I would have ground her under the stone (miming with his palms)' (this is too loooose a translation - in kannaDa: ನಮ್ಮನೆ ಹೆಂಗಸು ನಿಂಥರದೊಳ್ ಆಗಿದ್ದಿದ್ರೆ ಅರಿಯೋ ಕಲ್ಮೇಲ್ಹಾಕಿ ಅರಿದುಬಿಡ್ತ್ತಿದ್ದೆ). And still the lady had the same pleading words 'Give it, it is getting late. I have house keys in that...'. This conductor's behaviour was too much to listen to, and I am sure all others in the bus had got annoyed too. The conductor sensed it. The bus was out of its short waiting period now and the woman started pleading even more constantly with 'ರಿ ಕೊಡ್ರಿ...' (in hindi 'दीजिये जी') I simply cant translate it in english and know well that I have not represented the contrast between abusiveness of conductor's addressing and the woman's respectful 'ji' usage in spite of listening to all that.
Another lady who was seated nearby turned to this woman and asked 'how much were you supposed to give?'
Woman: 'only three rupees amma...'
Even in those days there was no ticket for 3 rupees in a red board bus. This was becoming curiouser. The seated lady rummaged in her hand bag, picked some coins and gave it to the woman. The still growling conductor took it, walked to the driver's area, picked the little valet, and thrust it in the woman's waiting hand. By then the next stop had come. Once out of the bus, suddenly the woman seemed to have found her voice. She started using swear words at the conductor. The bus chugged on.
I could not believe what had just unfolded - all that verbal abuse was for mere three rupees!! My head tried to weigh, measure and balance morality, values, abuse, struggle to survive and so on, for several more hours that day. And the scene is as clear as ever!
