This was the first time I got up before the sun in Dehradun. Dehradun which is a beautiful city surrounded by scenic mountain beauty. Neither a metro nor a small town, but FYI, this city has Mc D, KFC, Subway et al, I guess there are two multiplexes and a water park( though in the outskirts) also. My PG is east facing, facing mussourie, which is a town uphill and a wonderful tourist destination. This is the month of may and a scorching summer by now has engulfed most part of the country, but Dehradun is just WOW! I feel lucky that I got my internship in such a beautiful place and got to explore it. Anyway there was some training which I had to attend in Saharanpur, a small town at a distance of one and a half hours from Dehradun. The training was to start at 9 am, venue, Hotel oasis. That means I should reach leave Dehradun by quater past seven. I set my alarm for half past five. My alarm tone is Jassi Sidhu's Rahe Rahe, the sound of the dhol is a guarantee to wake up a Punjabi lad, getting the drift? I donned on a formal attire with a black turban, grabbed two bananas and left the room. I had to climb the gate to go out though, since Mr. Bhatia who owns the PG had still not unlocked it. The common man of Dehradun commutes through shared autos, called Vikram over here, and it is light blue in colour. At a time it can gorge in 11 people including the driver. The nearest stop from my PG is at a walking distance of ten minutes. Walking in the twilight , eating bananas and breathing in the freshest air, it is like one of the most pacific feelings one can get.
I took Vikram for route number 5 to ISBT bus stand. On the stand the bus was parked in front of me and I got aboard on it just in time. There were not many co-passengers in it and I don't remember when I fell asleep but by the time I got up it was stuffed with people. Finally, as planned i reached Saharanpur on time and my oh my, dude the street was generously sprinkled with people. Vikrams are in Saharanpur also, though with a different structure and there are green colored also there with the blue ones. They are super voracious, thirteen people at a time. It is understood that the Vikram walla will try to stuff his washing machine wagon as much as possible, but why the heck do people get in it? particularly when there are hundreds of others also there on road and if given a thought you can comfortably sit in others. There is funny sight always there inside such pregnant Vikrams. The men are usually smiling at each other conforming understanding while the ladies are staring at each other expressing disdain. I had mentioned to the driver dude that to drop me at Hotel Oasis, to which he replied with his mouth full of gutka, "Haao". But, some how the dude forgot it and dropped me some where else telling me that the hotel was near by, which actually was not! Anyway I reached the session half an hour later. Overall the session was good.
I left the hotel at about 5.30, again took a washing machine and went to the bus stop. The first bus comes, filled with bodies to the brim, did not stop. The second bus came, same story, sorry. Third came, nope. Every time a bus showed up people ran towards it, hoping to get a seat. Then I decided to ask the traffic policeman that from where the bus is getting its livestock? And quite a surprise, the depot was nearly three hundred meters away. I wonder what made all those people to wait at that place rather than the near by bus depot. Finally, I reached the depot and inherently became a warrior. Trust me the sight of the bus is like a bugle for a chaaaaaarge. People running for their life, kids getting crushed and crying, ladies fighting with the men for privileges. Uproar, chaos, mayhem!Apparently, nobody gives a hoot about order and understanding. In between I saw another bus and ran with all my stamina being chased by an ornery, disgruntled mob. I was the first person to enter the bus, Glory was mine, cherished it in slow sepia motion. within few minutes all the seats were occupied. And this character sits next to me, lets name him 'beedhi'.
Beedhi insisted me to give him the window seat, since he had to smoke. I agreed. But the bus has not yet started and beedhi has lit his first smoke. I objected since it was a boiler room, and he stubbed the smoke against the seat, giving it a lifelong beedhi love spot. But, let me describe him first. He is a common rural Indian man. short, black, small eyes, tiny white stub. The texture of his skin exposes his usual laborious hard work. Beedhi looks at me and says," Sardarji, look at my foot, it has got swollen this morning." And indeed his foot was swollen, with cracks symbolizing his long journeys on foot. I just told him to consult a doctor. Every few minutes he would press his foot to alleviate the pain. Finally, the bus starts and beedhi gets the opportunity to quench his thirst. Beedhi is a poor man, a labor class it seems, but as the bus crosses a mosque beedhi takes out a five rupee note and drops it on the road. I can't express how strange, sad yet happy I felt at that moment. For the next fifteen odd minutes beedhi rests his head on the seat in front and after that takes out his chinese mobile phone and hits his retro play list. The bus was silent for the rest of the journey except for beedhi's jukebox. I could see a few heads waving in sync with his beats.
Finally, I reached Dehradun, took a usual eleven seater vikram and reached the stop near my PG. The following ten minutes walk was different from the one which I had the same morning. I reached my room by nine, all bushed and famished.
It was a colorful day indeed, good for a one day experience.
I took Vikram for route number 5 to ISBT bus stand. On the stand the bus was parked in front of me and I got aboard on it just in time. There were not many co-passengers in it and I don't remember when I fell asleep but by the time I got up it was stuffed with people. Finally, as planned i reached Saharanpur on time and my oh my, dude the street was generously sprinkled with people. Vikrams are in Saharanpur also, though with a different structure and there are green colored also there with the blue ones. They are super voracious, thirteen people at a time. It is understood that the Vikram walla will try to stuff his washing machine wagon as much as possible, but why the heck do people get in it? particularly when there are hundreds of others also there on road and if given a thought you can comfortably sit in others. There is funny sight always there inside such pregnant Vikrams. The men are usually smiling at each other conforming understanding while the ladies are staring at each other expressing disdain. I had mentioned to the driver dude that to drop me at Hotel Oasis, to which he replied with his mouth full of gutka, "Haao". But, some how the dude forgot it and dropped me some where else telling me that the hotel was near by, which actually was not! Anyway I reached the session half an hour later. Overall the session was good.
I left the hotel at about 5.30, again took a washing machine and went to the bus stop. The first bus comes, filled with bodies to the brim, did not stop. The second bus came, same story, sorry. Third came, nope. Every time a bus showed up people ran towards it, hoping to get a seat. Then I decided to ask the traffic policeman that from where the bus is getting its livestock? And quite a surprise, the depot was nearly three hundred meters away. I wonder what made all those people to wait at that place rather than the near by bus depot. Finally, I reached the depot and inherently became a warrior. Trust me the sight of the bus is like a bugle for a chaaaaaarge. People running for their life, kids getting crushed and crying, ladies fighting with the men for privileges. Uproar, chaos, mayhem!Apparently, nobody gives a hoot about order and understanding. In between I saw another bus and ran with all my stamina being chased by an ornery, disgruntled mob. I was the first person to enter the bus, Glory was mine, cherished it in slow sepia motion. within few minutes all the seats were occupied. And this character sits next to me, lets name him 'beedhi'.
Beedhi insisted me to give him the window seat, since he had to smoke. I agreed. But the bus has not yet started and beedhi has lit his first smoke. I objected since it was a boiler room, and he stubbed the smoke against the seat, giving it a lifelong beedhi love spot. But, let me describe him first. He is a common rural Indian man. short, black, small eyes, tiny white stub. The texture of his skin exposes his usual laborious hard work. Beedhi looks at me and says," Sardarji, look at my foot, it has got swollen this morning." And indeed his foot was swollen, with cracks symbolizing his long journeys on foot. I just told him to consult a doctor. Every few minutes he would press his foot to alleviate the pain. Finally, the bus starts and beedhi gets the opportunity to quench his thirst. Beedhi is a poor man, a labor class it seems, but as the bus crosses a mosque beedhi takes out a five rupee note and drops it on the road. I can't express how strange, sad yet happy I felt at that moment. For the next fifteen odd minutes beedhi rests his head on the seat in front and after that takes out his chinese mobile phone and hits his retro play list. The bus was silent for the rest of the journey except for beedhi's jukebox. I could see a few heads waving in sync with his beats.
Finally, I reached Dehradun, took a usual eleven seater vikram and reached the stop near my PG. The following ten minutes walk was different from the one which I had the same morning. I reached my room by nine, all bushed and famished.
It was a colorful day indeed, good for a one day experience.
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