November 9, 2007
State buses in India are great. I don't mean aesthetically. In that sense they are sad, old, sheet metal enclosures that look as though they were disassembled by a ten year old and then reassembled by his five year old brother. The outsides are a drab off-white, sometimes with primary stripes, and uninspiringly, the name of the bus company, or its acronym, as the only thing written on the side or front. The buses' insides are painted an institutional green color, the same color commonly used for refrigerators sold in American in the 50s, or maybe it was the shade used for Medusa's blood in Clash of the Titans. The seats are usually wrought iron and vinyl, with all the comfort that implies. And, the noise; the horns are so loud, they make me nauseous. Anyway, disregard how they look, wear earplugs, like we do, and focus on what's more important for the roaming tourist: they leave on time, arrive on time, run everywhere and do so frequently.
In Kerala, the 3 hour bus trip we took from Trivandrum to Kollam left every 10 minutes! Where else in the world is this true? (In fairness, part of the reason may be that there are 35 million people in the smallish state of Kerala and many seem to live in a narrow corridor between the mountains and the sea.) So, when the bus tire noisily exploded, people just piled off the bus and, with the help of the driver, loaded onto the next bus that came along just a few minutes later. Really, the whole episode from the "bang...wap, wap, wap..." to riding away on a new bus didn't take more than 10 minutes. Then we took a bus to Fort Kochi, an overnight bus to Mysore and an AC bus to Bangalore; and, each was on schedule.
From Bangalore, there was no need to make reservations: a bus to Hassan was leaving when we arrived. We just had to hop on and pay the bus conductor. (Paying on the bus in normal and does not carry a surcharge, unlike the train system.) At a station, about an hour before our stop, the bus turned tightly around a corner and kissed the nose of a parked bus: three windows burst sequentially. Thankfully, nobody was hurt. (Actually, one man had a pin prick of blood on his index finger, but he seemed okay.) Most of the passengers filed out to inspect the damage, there was a few minutes of discussion between several drivers, and then we were off again. In many other countries, the same accident may have delayed the trip for at least a few hours. The police would have come, reports would be completed and everyone would stand around for a new bus to continue the journey. In India, the conductor just had to brush the seats clear of glass as our tough bus was on its way.
