Delhi Buses

The early morning sun crawled over the dense dusty rooftops of Lajpat Nagar, where we live, and sprinkled the hundreds of commuters with light. Standing three deep along a busy main road Allan waited with the others for the bus to work. Some buses were battered, work weary replicas of bygone days whilst others were new, but all were crammed to capacity. Each slowing bus attracted the throng like a magnet, producing a bulge in the crowd which followed the bus’ progress. The bus coming to a brief halt transformed the bulge into a heaving globule of thirty hopeful travellers who surrounded the door. Once fifteen people squeezed into the already full bus it moved forward five yards, urgently followed by the crowd. They clawed their way into the writhing twisting interior leaving only five still with feet on the ground as the bus moved forward another five yards. Then they were off with the last five securing tenuous toe holds and hanging on by one hand. Departing in clouds of acrid blue exhaust and sprouting disembodied arms and legs the bus disappeared into the frantic honking jostling Delhi traffic.      

It was into this heaving mass of humanity that Allan was absorbed daily for an hour to get to work. Once on board, ten rupees was passed from one crushed passenger to another until it reached the conductor, pinned helplessly into a corner. The ticket returned by the same route. Although every available space was occupied, people even squatted in the luggage areas, it was an exercise in congenial compromise and mutual support. Ladies were invariably given a seat and old folks were accommodated. Seated passengers gladly took luggage on their laps to free up more space for passengers compressed three deep in the isles.

Soon it will rain. But now it’s hot, 45oC, and rising. Beads of sweat drip from one person to another as passengers stretch to capture a breath of air from the open windows. Still, sweaty torsos aid the passage of people slipping and slithering through the mass to reach the exits. Multiple intimate contact is a commuting norm with personal space being a very unhelpful concept.

Dressed in their whites, sporting jaunty caps, a whole cricket team crammed into the bus one morning. The smooth batsman, wearing cool wrap around sunglasses with a bat under one arm managed to appear aloof and superior amid the scrum of less fortunates. Another incident to break the routine journey was an altercation between two women that escalated from abuse and name calling to a full fledged shouting, hitting and slapping match. It’s amazing how much space can appear when fists are flying. The dispute was brought to a premature and unsatisfactory end when the driver ejected one of the protagonists.     

The National Trust for the welfare of persons with Autism, Cerebral Palsy, Mental Retardation and Multiple Disabilities is a government agency. Technically it’s part of the Indian Government Ministry of Social Justice and Empowerment. Such a long title though is cumbersome so it’s usually abbreviated to just the ‘National Trust’.  That way hardly anyone outside the disability sector has any idea who Allan works with.

Already in our first few weeks Allan has visited wonderful organisations which care for kids with cerebral palsy, enjoyed chocolate and walnut cake made by adults with Downs Syndrome and watched people with mental retardation make paper carrier bags out of newspaper. These replace the plastic bags which pollute many parts of India and most of the western world.

 There is no doubt about it Delhi Wallahs are friendly. At work we’ve already had invitations to visit colleagues’ houses. We are warmly greeted in the few shops we’ve been in. Bajaj the proprietor of the fabric store where Margaret bought cloth for an Indian outfit invited us home for a meal. When our new water filter broke down after only one week the guys in the shop called regularly until a service engineer called late one Sunday night to fix it.  Even a guy dressed as monkey strolling along an alleyway waved. No, I’ve no idea why he was dressed as monkey.

Pictures