Banashankari, onduvare ticket!

[My first blog post in ages, its an attempt to try my hand at nostalgic writing. This post is a tribute to all those blogs and stories of nostalgia, which when read truly transports you back in time, most notable among them Bengalooru Banter. Heres another comical take on it.]

For the uninitiated, Route No 14 is one of the very few links between the North and South of our famed Bengalooru. I wont go into all the explanation about how people in the North think South is a residential paradise or how the South thinks North is uncultured among other things. Usually operating between Malleswaram in the North to some random location in the South (which the author doesn't know since he never sat through till the end or had no enthu to google too), it made an extended trip from ITI Layout in the North to again the same random location in the south twice in the morning and once in the evening everyday. This they say was to facilitate the employees of AG's office long ago. Its another matter, that no one knows what exactly is AG's office now or what actually happens within the confines of the office [For general information, it is Accountant General's office situated somewhere on Kasturba Road, the same place where the Museum is situated (and no, its not the museum road)], and as with all great things, conspiracy theories abound like the local milkman bribed the BMTC officials to run this service so his kids could attend some random school in Basavangudi, or the area MLA used this to return from Vidhana Soudha when the MLAAD scheme was under scrutiny - although all charges have been unconditionally refuted and no chargesheet filed.

14 is one of the few buses (let me be frank, the only bus) I know in Bangalore that follows a queue system, yes a QUEUE. The bus leaves at 0840 hrs in the morning and one can see a long serpentine queue beginning to form at 0810 itself. As with most other things, I dont see the logic behind standing in a queue for a good 30 mins so that you dont have to stand in the bus for an equal or lesser time. But nonetheless, I have more often than not, stood in the line. And no, this bus is a true showman. He doesn't believe in exposing his body to all the smoke and paan standing there like a fool and expecting people to arrive. He arrives royally at 0830 or 0835, the conductor still cleaning his mouth of the morning breakfast and sipping water. The conductor for many years was a medium built man with a striking resemblance to Kannada actor Ambarish, was replaced for a few years and then he was back all over again.

The earliest ones are AG's office employees who are near their retirement or for that matter anybody whose retirement life is beckoning but they still got to finish up a few years before collecting their pension. They wake up early, eat early and are at the line early, with a newspaper, which is most cases is the orangish brown Economic times or the Hindu, TOI is blasphemous. Passing by the queue, mostly you would see shining bald heads with a briefcase or a bag in one hand, except if you were a regular, in which case, the shining heads would tilt back and grace you by a elegant curve on the lips. The general rule is no one breaks the line, and if you did, thou shalt be charred to death by the disgusted and angry look on their faces (even if looks could not kill). Then, there would be the old ladies who made a dignified walk to the end of the line occasionally stopping to chat with other ladies in the queue (as expected!!) Amidst all this, there would be a drooping Anglo Indian who seemed to be in a world of his own complete with an old European style cap, flannel clothing and total silence.

Amidst all this sepia tone drama, there would be an occasional 'young blood' in the queue. A young girl in her mid twenties who for some 'strange' reason always sat with another young guy of comparable age, an occasional engineer who lost his way, or some PU student from Shady's who had bunked the morning session and wanted to experience some college torture after the breakfast break (which incidentally is where yours truly fits in - and our college started at 7:30 in the morning and we had a breakfast break at 9 - good old days)

Back to sepia, bus is in place, conductor having finished cleaning his mouth, would start his ritual, and that being his first 'trippu' in the morning, the oft heard growl was 'Change illa kanri, change tharakke agalwa?' This was mostly with the people at the end of the line, the early birds were of course regulars and mostly had the exact change down to the last paisa or had passes! Occasionally, someone in the crowd waiting for other buses about 100 ft away would notice a totally empty bus as against the usual filled to triple capacity buses at that hour and would leap into the bus totally ignoring all protocols only to be abused and sent to the end of the line.

All the groundwork done and the last of the passengers boarded, the bus would leave at 0840 hours or at most 0843 hours - amazing time keeping by any Indian standards - initially slow and then picking up pace - as if it was some princely locomotive. The sepia tone generation would still be in their 'economic' times with an occasional political commentary, the color generation trying to strike up conversations and failing most of the time, a few others looking at their watches and repeatedly cursing the organised boarding for their delay, people alighting, new people boarding, and halfway through the trip, the original passengers would've all alighted to make way for a new set of them, a new crowd behavior, a new set of discussions, a new set of purposes. Of course, Route No 14 didn't mind any of these, it was more than happy looking at the stone buildings of IISc, the hustle bustle of Malleswaram, the stagnant traffic of link road, the terrible stink on link road, the distinctive smell at Shivananda, the powerful Vidhana Soudha, the bustling RC College, the overcrowded City Market, Chamrajpet, Ramakrishna Mission, Shanthi Talkies and disappear into the folds of the South.  It was afterall a daily routine, sometimes in sepia, sometimes in color.