Waiting for the bus: The ride

Part II

Through the traffic I watched the bus. Trying to see how many people were in it. Now, I would have got on the bus even if I had to hang out the door, but it's always good to see what your in for. My bus seemed to be having some sort of trouble with a little car that had just come out of a lane, but it was blocked by the traffic on the other side of the road. The bus driver honked his horn a bit, then stuck his head out his window and started screaming at the driver of the car. who in reply started shouting at the the bus driver. Eventually there was an opening and the car made way. The bus driver passed the car, leaving a few stinging remarks about the other drivers absolute lack of driving skill. I saw now that it was only about half full.
"here's the bus" I said to the man and the girl as it pulled up. My current state was not one so that I could fight for a seat, so I didn't really bother to hurry in. But I was an exception. The big man was one of the first in, I was one of the last. I couldn't see where the girl was. On the Inside, the bus was not much different. The paint was faded, peeling, with the scribbles of bored passengers all over. Seats that once might have been comfortable were worn down to the wood. In general, it was what you would find anywhere in India. I scanned the seats to see if there was any space to sit, but saw none.
Then, looking at the seat on my right, I got a bit of a shock. The girl had managed to get herself a window seat. Think about it. Me, a seasoned traveler of buses, trains, and many other forms of transport, is usurped by a first timer, and that too a girl. I tried to console myself, well I'm tired, and wasn't really trying to get a seat. But my competitive nature was just too much to let it lie. Steading myself as the bus started of, I couldn't help but ask, "So how did you get in so fast?" The girl looked at me and smiled, "I saw that every one was getting on from the front door, so I just hoped from the back." Now why didn't I think of that? "Oh, well" was all I could manage. The conductor was going from passenger to passenger, perfectly balanced, one hand full of notes and tickets. At his hip hung a small pouch, which I knew held all the change.
"how much does it cost to go to the train station?" asked the girl.
"It'll cost about six rupees." I replied as I tried to get my wallet out of my pocket. You might be thinking, how difficult can it be to get a wallet out of your pocket. Well, on a bus that has about as much body roll as some boats, and with the driver seeming like he was trying to throw every one of balance, the way he accelerated and braked with no apparent reason. Anyway, The important bit is coming up. As I tried to get my wallet out of my right hand pocket with my left hand,(my right hand was occupied holding the railing above head) I noticed that what was supposed to be in my right hand was not. And and what was supposed to be in my right hand was a small white plastic bag which was carrying a limited edition model car. It was a Lamborghini Muira. A friend of mines birthday was coming up soon, and, being a bit of a car buff, I thought it would be a good gift for him. Only now I must have left it at the store. The shop keeper would keep it for me, I knew, but there was someone else also wanting to get it, and he would probably be willing to pay a fairly large amount to get the car. I'll explain later, it's a long story. Paying for my trip, I started to move towards the door, as the station was getting close.

Waiting for the bus

Part I

The traffic sped by, spewing out dark clouds of smoke, ad adding to the cites pollution and kicking up the dust bringing gasps and coughs from pedestrians. Crowds of people walked along the side walk and road. And there, at the bus stand I stood, waiting for my bus home. It was midday, not a great time to be stuck out doors. Especially in the summers of Jaipur. Well there I was, hoping that this misery would end soon. I was not the only one suffering, to my left was a tall, dark man. On his head was a big white turban, and he wore a simple white kurtha and wrapped around his legs was a plain dhoti. Sweat had made the kurtha stick to his body, and his forehead was shiny with perspiration. His face was dominated by those big handlebar mustaches that are so common in Rajasthan.
Then up walked a girl in her late teens. She was wearing a red salwar top with a pair of blue jeans. I could tell instantly that she was fairly well of, and was probably not used to riding a bus. The big man looked at the girl and raised his eye brows. I was not the only one thinking she was out of place. She took out a cell phone from her purse gave me and the man a glare-oops! I pretend not to notice, turning in the opposite direction, looking for the bus.
"What's taking that bus so long?" said the big man.(that's been translated, of course.)
"Who knows? Buses are almost always late." I said.
"So, where are you going?"
"To the train station, I'm here only for some work" He replied.
"Really? I live just five minutes away"
"Well, that means we'll be on the same bus" By now there was a small gathered, waiting for their buses.
The girl had just finished talking on her phone, it had appeared to be a heated conversation. She looked around, then said, "Which bus goes to the train station?. Excuse me?" I only realized that she was talking to me now, and I was a bit tired from standing in the sun. All I could manage was look that was a mix of fatigue and confusion. "Eh?" How can you mess up so badly?
"which bus is going to the train station?" She asked again, why she didn't give up on me I still don't know. "I'm going there too, so just wait for the bus that I will go on." I finally said.
"Thanks" she answered.
Then, coming around the bend, driving like any other respectable bus driver. Which is not very good. I looked at the number displayed on the board above the wind screen, and could just make it out. It was my bus.