Why shell out money to experience ‘adventure’ in a wonderland
when autorickshaws and buses can give you the ultimate theme park experience
every day?
The roller coaster
autorickshaw ride or the daily adventure — call it what you will.
A horde of vehicles
flashed past. I made as if to run. Just then, a bus came from nowhere and
blundered ahead, foiling my efforts. After about a minute of dilly-dallying,
which appeared to me like hours, I dashed across the road, as if my life
depended on it. Without stopping at the security entrance, I urged my legs to
run faster. And even faster. And then finally! The moment I had been waiting
for, finally arrived. I flashed a card at a device glowing red and beeping
assent, making me feel as if I had just secured my entry into the FBI
headquarters. Phew! But it was not 935 Pennsylvania Avenue. Welcome to a regular
day of a regular week at work!
My friends often ask
me, “Why don’t you take a cab or something?” My usual response is: “There are
hardly any people coming from my end. Anyway, let’s see how long it lasts.”
Yes, I too am a
proponent of the chalta hai movement. As long as it works, as
far as it goes. Always pushing the envelope, always testing the limits. “You
could bring a car, you know,” someone suggested. And spend an hour and a half
staring at the ball of fire, turning red, green or orange, with my hands stuck
to the steering wheel, switching between radio channels trying to locate one
devoid of garrulous cranks trying to mobilise support for elections or selling
products? Thank you, I’m fine. My friends fail to see my reasons for opting for
public transport.
A nine-hour desk job
involving sitting in front of the computer screen, letting the monitor
radiation bore into my nearly empty head, is not exactly exciting. On the other
hand, a bumpy roller coaster ride in a shared auto while eavesdropping on the
conversations of the innocuous and unsuspecting passengers, who assume that no
one would be interested in their lives (perhaps no one would, except crackpots
like me) is the kind of thing that fires me up for the day. Although the
clichéd corny old songs that mark the ambience of the vehicle warrant the use
of cotton earplugs, they sort of provide a comic contrast to the severe and
focussed attitude of the passengers, making me giggle into my shirt, providing
much-needed jocular relief.
So, why wait for the weekend
to shell out a precious bunch of notes to experience ‘adventure’ in a
wonderland when there are ready-made amusement parks along the roads, what with
speed breakers, potholes and construction sites; with autorickshaws and buses
doubling up as roller coasters to give you the ultimate theme park experience
every day?
Are you the daring and
plucky sort? Well, that is even better since there are no safety precautions or
security latches on these improvised swings. Come to think of it, the daily
sprint before boarding the bus to the dash after alighting from it to the race
between me and the steady competitor of time, to the punching machine of my
office, actually ensures that I get a decent amount of exercise and helps keep
me in shape.
Add to that the pleasure
of anonymity it offers. No questions asked except ‘where to?’; no answers
needed except a currency note with a photograph of the Mahatma printed on it.
No uncomfortable conversations or vexing gossip, no exchange of plastic smiles
or inane worldly goings-on. Just plain staring into space, dozing off or
wondering about the lofty but useless ideals like the origin of man and the
stars and the world…
For a potential
flaneur, I can’t envisage a better start to the day. Especially for a woman,
who has practically no chance of perambulation in the rape-stained society
today, this method of flanerie is a blessing in disguise.
Can the sombre
confined cab climate with a poker-faced driver and stuck-up crotchety
cab-fellows match the vibrant, unpredictable motley of people, events and the
atmosphere of the bus or autorickshaw? Add to that the exorbitant amount of
monthly charges coupled with extra sops to be paid to the driver for change of
timings or weekend travel, besides the walking out of a certain passenger or
the clash of timings with some other, and the pros for public transport keep
mounting. Did I forget to mention the recent sexual assault in a hired cab? But
let us not grade cab service by a one-off mishap, because in that strain, one
could cite the Nirbhaya episode that happened in a bus.
My family might not
approve of my idea of adventure but in the face of drab desk life, paucity of
time and limited opportunities for women to wander, this appears to be my best
shot.
Why shell out money to experience ‘adventure’ in a wonderland
when autorickshaws and buses can give you the ultimate theme park experience
every day?