The Bus Stop - Living Mumbai 14

Finally after spending half of yesterday, I had to remind myself that I was not on vacation anymore. I need to kick myself and get to work. It would not be as easy as traveling in Amsterdam but then I had to go. So after setting the alarm for 6:37 AM, I still woke up by 8:30 AM. After a short breakfast, I packed the chocolates for my team and started for the nearest bus stop.

The humid climate is unbearable. I was sweating in no time. I felt myself taking a deep breath, trying to suck in more air. I needed air.

I stood there at the bus stop waiting for the bus. A couple of boys talk about something excitedly. I guess they are still in college. They wear the most laid back clothes. It seems the latest with these youngsters.

Youngsters? I am not a youngster anymore.

A man with crutches and one leg comes to the bus stop. He asks me if the buses go from here? I show him the numbers at the top of bus stop. He says that the bus does not stop there after the building collapsed last month. He goes ahead and asks the two boys. They are not waiting for the bus at all.

The man already knew that the bus would not come there and still he asked me for the same information. It seems he had waited more than 30 minutes only last week. A strange way of helping me. He could have just told me.

Mumbai! Yahan Sab chalta hai!

I walk to the bus stop on the parallel road. Many people are waiting for the bus there. Behind the bus stop, my school building. For 10 years, I had walked to that school. I was so scared of going to school sometime. We were living a little away from school. I cycled my way to the school. I see parents coming to the school. I guess its the end of classes now.

My bus is still not there. I see two number 226 in a gap of 5 minutes but I don’t see my bus.

A teenage girl walks in the middle of the road probably reading what seems like her subject book. She cooly crosses the road as cars whiz past her. I remember yesterday when I went to the station, the traffic just wouldn’t stop for me to cross. I waited and then just crossed dodging the cars. I have to admit, even after 3 years outside Mumbai, I still haven’t lost my touch

Mumbai! Yahan sab chalta hai!

A long wait and my bus is still not there. A small dog sleeps behind the bus stop totally oblivious of the surroundings. Another dog, very weak and very thin walks behind a rag picker. The rag picker must be feeding him food and the dog follows his undeclared master. The dog reminds me of Sheru. He would walk behind me all over the house. They say, Dog is a man’s best friend. I believe them

Four boys walk past me, three of them are not wearing shoes/footwear. They were a white jersey declaring some political group. Its dahi handi today. These boys will risk their limbs and legs to reach curd pots many feet above the ground. Some political party is sponsoring those jersey. Some of these boys are too young to understand any political ideology. They are just like lambs in a herd led with the crowd. Tomorrow the paper will have a report of at least one accident. People will have debates on how high a dahi handi can grow and the sheer stupidness of such height. Its not a competition, its a festival. Some days later the victim will be forgotten until next year.

Mumbai! Yahan sab chalta hai!

My bus arrives, finally. I patiently get in There is no line at all, not even a concept of it. I am the third one to get in. As a practice, I walk at the seats behind. I always sit in the last seats, always but the bus is full. Before the last person is in, the conductor signals the bus to leave. The last man efficiently climbs in and hangs on. He has climbed many such buses. The conductor can’t help it. He has many passengers waiting at the other stop. Some people will always be left behind. Its the motto of Mumbai, “Run or you will be left behind”

Mumbai! Yahan sab chalta hai!