Posted by: Prashanth Rajan | May 11, 2010

Bus Number 75

With urban sprawling being more evident than ever, add to it the rapid migration towards cities of huge population, the infrastructure of any city is visibly strained. Nowhere more visibly than in Bangalore where, as anyone who has tried knows, it takes a herculean effort to go from Point A to Point B.

The city buses do a fairly decent job provided the scalability of the current population residing here. Not that it is rocket science or anything, but anyone on a trip to Majestic surely wish they had taken some other mode of transportation to reach their destinations. Take for example the newly constructed Mall in Malleshwaram- surely it is not going to be another run-of-the-mill Mall. (The author’s hopes on having a safe and comforting journey from 6th Block R’nagar to Malleshwaram are now somewhat more screwed, with probability ratios being decreased by the plenty). Which brings us to the bus I cannot afford to forget. Bus number 75.

The long cuboid shaped locomotive with wheels adorned with 2 khakhi wearing employees belonging to the Karnataka government surely gave me some instances I would never forget. One particular instance where this conductor resembled a perfect example of middle class father of a heroine in kannada flicks. Or this other guy who looked like he could give the movie henchmen a run for their money. There was this particular bus conductor in 279G who never failed to amuse the passengers with his histrionics, be it with his nonchalance in climbing a running bus or hanging out on the foot-board of it while at top notch speed. But I am not here to talk about arbit bus conductors and drivers. And surely, I would give a miss to the bus numbers which started with 63 and ended with different starting letters of the English alphabet as I thought it would be a better idea battling lions in Roman Colosseum than struggle with bated breaths in that bus. And no, if you are thinking what I am thinking, Volvos did not start yet that time on that route. Atleast on that time frame.

Take a good look at this route map.

Subject : Tall, cute 5’7 girl aged around 20 gets up at ESI hospital stop.

And the rest is history. She made all that ‘factor’ to cheer about every time I boarded a 75 bus. Of course, it did become a bit of a drag once she started taking the wrong 75s, but when she did board the same bus as mine, it was a reason enough not to be worried about the humongous and tiring journey that still lay ahead. (The path that needs traversing after Navrang remains to this day, one of the most cumbersome and tiring journeys you could come across in Bangalore today). The journey that was monotonously boring used to lit up when she boarded the bus. Her destination luckily happened to coincide with mine, but the opportunity to follow her was NEVER present as I was busy rushing onto college, just a few minutes to go before you had to bribe the security guy near the college gate to coax you into letting you in. (8.45 AM still remains a harrowingly distressing time for me, and I had to jump over the college back gate a couple of times in order not to give the attendance a miss, and it gets even funnier when the principal is waiting just inside the college gate, itching to listen to your excuse, which makes one come up with the wittiest of excuses).Ahem, more on that later. A day once arrived when the mighty protagonist over sleeps, and eager not to miss his daily ‘fare’, catches an auto and zooms to the Navrang circle. And as lady luck would have it, there she was, standing garnering all unwanted attention with a couple of neat books in her hands. Slowly, I walked up to her when out of nowhere; she started asking me about the frequency of buses, much to the jealousy of the other prying male eyes. I nodded with a meek yes, and replied. Then it was my turn to ask her a couple of questions. This went on for some days, when I would ask something whenever I bumped into her on the bus. Then Month 3 arrived. That was the shocking month, when the protagonist eventually finds out that the ‘girl’ was actually a  ‘woman’. She was a young mother. Somewhere, something broke. Into a million pieces. I no longer took the ’auto’ to catch that bus. No more enthusiasm to talk to her. Everything had returned to normalcy now. I looked at the sky, smiled and said to myself, ”God, you cheeky little bastard”.

P.S – The girl, which I later found out , was a teacher at my college, but somehow never bumped into her the whole of 2 years.

P.S 2- She never found out about my being a student. (That sounds better, doesn’t it ?)

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Responses

  1. Poor You. Better Luck next time

  2. LOL ! good one 😀 somehow we are all allergic when the word ‘mom’ is used with reference to someone as in this case – did it remind you of yours? 😛 Cheers!

    • It sure did ! 😀

  3. EKSI !

    anyway , nice post ! And when I read it, I am like, this bro of mine has become a porikki 😛


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