Delhi, I have been told, has one of the best public
transport system in the country. I haven't been around the major metropolitan
cities of this country to vindicate or refute this opinion. But I did set out
to test it today late evening. I did not have my beloved Firebolt (that's my
car) with me at my college campus this week. Hence, I would have to use public
transport to get home. By early evening, I was free from my classes and could
have left for my home. However, knowing the peak hour rush, I decided to be
smart and leave late. So at about 8.45 pm, I slung my laptop bag over my
shoulder, picked up the other rather heavy bag that I needed to carry home, and
left from college.
As I walked towards the main road, I realized my first
mistake. I had forgotten to carry substantial change with me. Which meant that
I could only take a bus to get to the metro station. Cursing under my breath, I
reached the bus stop. I sat down to wait, a wait that lasted a very long time
owing to the poor service of bus at that time. I saw two-three auto wallahs come
to the bus stop and drive past them at a very slow speed in anticipation that
patience may have run out of the waiting passengers and they may be willing to
use their vehicles instead of bus. The sheer expectation with which they looked
up at every bystander made me want to take one. But due to the above mentioned
reason, I was unable to. Then again, there was one guy who did get tired of waiting
and finally asked the passing auto wallah to drop him to some place in Sheikh
Sarai. This auto wallah was not even looking for a passenger and was driving
past us without slowing down. I thought of the auto wallahs who had so wanted
to find a passenger amongst the group which was sitting there, but could not.
Luck, as they call it.
My luck, it seemed had run out. 10 minutes gone, and yet no
sign of any bus. On some other day, four would have passed by. After waiting a
while, one did come. It was the old DTC bus and obviously was very full. I
climbed in, since I did not want to take a chance of waiting for the next one.
One bag on the shoulder, the other one in my hand, I just about managed to squeeze
myself in a corner somewhere. The bus soon reached a red light. Staring outside
the window, I saw a man standing on the divider making signals to, umm,
himself! As I observed on, I saw that he was actually trying to signal the
traffic in different directions to move and stop as and when the lights
changed. Not that anybody looked at him, but he was probably in his own world
where he was the policeman manning the red light. As the car in front of me
moved a little, I was startled to see that he did not have a leg. He was
standing on one leg only. On the divider itself, there were sheets and quilts,
and somewhere in the middle of it, lay a plastic bag, presumably containing
some food. I looked back at the man. He was not making any effort to ask for
money and alms. His eyes were now focussed on our red light because it was
about to turn green. About a second before it turned green, the man gave his
hands an almighty heave and egged the traffic of our side to move on. Try as I
might, I failed to find any source of helplessness or sadness in those eyes.
Not for a moment had he looked at any car driver with the expectation of any
help. He was too happy in his own make believe world I guess, a world which was
far better than the one in which he lived.
In about half an hour, I was in metro. It was full, so my
smartness had come to nothing. I would have found the same rush an hour earlier
too. Too tired of carrying the bags, I put them down in a corner, plugged in my
earphones, and looked about aimlessly. I have travelled in metro frequently
over the years and nothing about it seems to change. I saw an old poor couple
sitting on their seats, not talking, staring around as pointlessly as me. I saw
a middle aged man, screaming into his phone, so that the whole compartment knew
that a shipment that he was supposed to receive some day ago had not been received yet. All in very fluent
Punjabi. There was the usual set of young teenagers or college going crowd in
the mix, some on their phones, some reading their books, some listening to songs(like
me!). Then, there were the perfect
stranger uncles, who were discussing how full the metro was, and how people did
not know how to enter and exit the metro compartment ( always pushing, they
rightly complained. Though I am sure they would have done the same while
entering!). The topic of conversation veered from this to politics to sports. I
saw a young couple dragging a suitcase in the metro, and then dragging it out
at Chandani Chowk station. I saw an uncle wearing suit and with a suitcase
right next to him, playing some game on
his Samsung phone. A little away, there was a small labourer crowd, their "gamcha"
hanging on their shoulders, chatting merrily as the thought of reaching home
kept up their spirits. All these under one roof. The metro definitely brings
people from all parts, walks and stages of life under one common roof.
Speaking for myself, I felt very tired. It had been a
journey longer than expected. But staring around, I realized that most of the
people here had had a much tougher day than me. Some were middle aged man, and
to return at past 10 pm to their family sounds so sad. I thought of the
labourers, how despite being more tired than me, they were happily waiting to
get home. I thought of the stranger uncles, how travelling like this with no
space at all had become a part of their lives. I could use a car whenever I
wanted. I thought of the college going crowd, how they were trying to make
their future, studying even in metro so that they can get a good start to their
career. Each and every person I saw during my journey seemed to be on an adventure
of their own, and as I thought, most of them had a life tougher than mine.
I had never thought that travelling on the Delhi roads for a
couple of hours could be so humbling!
