Bus-pass that missed the bus

Without realizing it, I suddenly burst out laughing because it was real bheja fry  stuff!!

In Delhi Transport Corporation (DTC) buses, people get in from the rear gate and exit from the front gate. The conductor sits next to the rear seat, and people need to buy tickets and move forward. The onus of buying the ticket is entirely on the passenger. This itself was quite a novelty to me. In Calcutta, in sharp contrast, the bus conductor moved up and down the bus, vending tickets, and the onus of making a passenger pay up was the sole responsibility of the conductor.

Most of the times shrewd and savvy commuters, particularly the portly ladies, bypassed the conductor in a DTC bus and occupied the vacant seat(s) pushing their way, while people who had boarded the bus before them were not quite finished with the transaction with the conductor. The shameless creatures, safely ensconced in the  seat, which would not have been theirs if they had not jumped the queue, would then nonchalantly pass on the fare to seated passengers behind, bhai saab/behenjee, zara mera ticket mangva dena… I   was new, timid, and not so conversant with Punjabi-ised Hindi that is spoken in Delhi to take these offenders on… , so, more often than not , I just had to bear the injustice silently.  

I stayed alone, a new immigrant to Delhi, while my colleague Mr. Bose had a wife, a three year old daughter and a rickety scooter.  We were also neighbours in the same Government Hostel, and I was a frequent beneficiary of maachher jhol cooked by his wife and was easily the best friend cum maasi of his adorable daughter. Mrs Bose was a very simple person, not too worldly wise, and very happy to be just Mrs. Bose.

Most of us those days travelled to work by bus and private transport were a luxury. Though Mr Bose did possess a scooter, he used it mostly for weekend errands and socialising. More often than not, we would take the same bus to and from office. We still could not do in Rome (read Delhi) as the rest of the Romans do, that is, elbow out people in front to grab a seat which was legitimately not ours.

During one such trip, we discovered that if one takes a DTC bus pass, one could just go forward and take an unoccupied seat legitimately with no guilt. No need to wait for that change from the seated un-laughing Buddha conductor, who never seemed to have small change on him despite everybody paying their fare in change, or silently fuming and fretting at those who jumped the queue.

So, one fine day Mr Bose and I set out in search of the Bus Gumti in Central Secretariat where bus passes were sold. We bought the passes, and were looking forward to using them henceforth.

Next day we were both at the same bus stand while returning from office. I suddenly remembered that I had not seen Mr Bose in the morning.  I boarded the bus in high spirits. Today nothing would stop me, not even the double my size Sardarni standing ahead of me !!. Sure thing, with a confident swagger, I firmly asked the lady to make way for me, she was startled but did give me space. I was on a high; I went ahead and sat down.

When I turned my head, I found Mr Bose in the familiar spot in front of the conductor enclosure…now what was he doing there instead of moving up? He was waiting for his change!!! But just why, for Christ’s sake?  

Mr Bose moved forward to stand next to my seat, crestfallen. By that time all seats were taken. I looked at him questioningly.

It seems today he was nearly dragged to police station by the roaming bus inspector in the morning for travelling without ticket, and he was let off only after paying double the fare and showing his office identity card. He was still quite shaken from the experience.

But did he not carry the brand new bus-pass? No he did not. Mr. Bose was totally dependent on his doting wife to hand him his belongings like wallet, handkerchief, etc while he set out for office.  When an agitated Mr. Bose spoke to his wife at home about the missing bus-pass after the ordeal with the roaming bus inspector, the good lady was quite indignant.

Did Mr Bose not notice that the bus –pass was too large to go straight into the wallet or in the breast pocket of the shirt? It was printed on thick paper which would crease badly if folded? Why did Mr Bose not look in the scooter dickey? Talking of ungrateful husbands who are spoilt by caring wives!!  This, after all the trouble Mrs Bose took to keep the bus-pass safe and un-mutilated, even wrapping it in a polythene bag for good measure and keeping it in the scooter dickey?