Tuesday, August 4, 2009

SAMARITAN SEARCH

Bangalore was famous for its misty mornings in the seventies and eighties. I had just shifted from a nearby school located in Malleswaram to another in the heart of the city for my high school. Travel by the BTS (as it was then known as Bangalore Transport Service) was inevitable. We used to look wishfully at the auto stand located outside our home and move towards the terminus. The terminus was also the terminal point of the journey of life since it was located outside the crematorium popularly known as Harischandra Ghat. The bus number 85 used to take us to the Majestic bus stand. However, we used to cross the road for the route number 84 which would take us straight to the Corporation bus stop since it would move up to City Market. This bus would embark on its journey by moving ahead and taking a U turn to proceed towards Malleswaram Circle and move towards Vidhana Soudha which would also serve as an optional stop to disembark to enable us to savour the green glory of the Cubbon Park.
The red coloured buses were few and far. We used to have the timings of the buses ready and it was a normal feature for dailies to publish the schedules at the beginning of the year or when there was a reshuffle of the routes. The buses were largely of the TATA brand. We were such loyalists of this brand that there used to be animated discussions on the demerits of the Ashok Leyland buses which were being introduced. It is irony that life has come full circle with the Nano cars grabbing headlines. Another favourite past time was to identify the licence number of the bus by its looks or its honk. We prided in announcing 1293 has arrived instead of using just 84. No wonder we are aghast to see the GenX actually doing the reverse by shortening names and even in route numbers they would choose 4 instead of even saying 84.
1293 was an exception in the Ashok Leyland league and had a headgear. The reason was that the last seat had a special window which would slide either way. Persons used to Volvos and other buses would never understand the pleasure of identifying a window seat in the bus where in the both panes would slide both ways. Adults in those days itself used to consider the school boys as looneys to make a mad rush for the last seat while the conductor was asking them to move in. The latecomers among students had a special privilege even in those days. As a special tribute to the brilliance of one of the back benchers George Washington, the drivers would accept our school bags through their window and then allow us entry from this green room door for a seat on the engine or the sill in the front. All these noble souls may have retired from service but this thanksgiving note would fill their coffers of best wishes well.
It was one of these eventful days that I had managed to beat my rivals to the prized seat at the unique window on the last seat. The others were apparently miffed and chose to boycott the last seats. A middle aged man who wore a mush and beard sat beside me. He engaged me in light talk and I cautiously responded. I was unsure of the attitudes of strangers. He then steered the conversation towards his schooldays which brought some comfort. By the time the bus veered to a halt next to Vidhana Soudha (which was not a fortress then), he had won my confidence. Then we alighted together and walked through the sylvan surroundings of the Cubbon Park. A path next to the Attara Kacheri upto the fork where one led to the tennis courts and the other towards the road towards the Kanteerva Stadium was the end point of our walk. This soon became a daily habit where we would share a lot of good times. The Samaritan must be somewhere in Bangalore and my subsequent quest to trace this soul has been in vain.

No comments: