There were three types of buses in Kolkata – the mini bus, the private bus and the State owned bus. Why the distinction was made between the first two types I am not sure because both the categories of buses were privately owned. The State owned ones were big and spacious. The mini bus was like a match box and the private buses were a bit larger versions of tin boxes. But whatever the size or capacity of the buses they were always overloaded with a few bodies precariously dangling from the door, their feet in air and hands clutching just the tiny bit of the iron bars of the side windows.
These were the modes of transport by which I commuted from home to office and back year after year till I managed to get membership of a chartered bus wherein seats were limited and allotted to members only in lieu of a fixed payment each month and no standing passenger was allowed.
This was a much better facility because the buses, though not air-conditioned, had large windows which permitted proper ventilation inside upping the comfort level of the commuters by a few degrees.
In the other buses, the inside temperature rose due to their size and structure and the piles of human bodies dripping with sweat glued to each other and small windows hindering air passage. There would hardly be enough space to even place the feet properly while standing. But Bongs being Bongs they took these everyday commutes in their stride. They read classics, hummed Tagore songs under their breath and even had a good snooze while just about balancing their bodies with a practised ease developed over the years.
But amidst this chaotic commute God forbid if any female passenger objected to the misbehaviour of a co-passenger. In a jiffy the laidback crowd could turn into fierce mob beating the offender into an unrecognisable pulp. Thus, in spite of the acute inconvenience, these were the safest modes of transport for me and any other lady who would immediately be helped while boarding or deboarding and seat, if unavailable, would be arranged for them either by the conductor or the passengers themselves.
These were, like me, ordinary men and women who travelled long distances to meet both ends and coped with the vagaries of life with unwavering fatalism. If you wonder what enabled them to keep at it I’d say it was their innate sense of humour, a generous dose of which could be experienced during these journeys making them the most enjoyable.
Once a young man running after a bus which had just left the stop, shouted, “Rokkey! Rokkey! Jenaana hai!! (“Stop! Stop! There’s a lady who wants to board the bus!!”) Hearing the word ‘Jenaana’, meaning lady , the conductor dutifully stopped the bus. Huffing and puffing the man got in but there was no lady in sight. When the conductor asked where the lady was, the man answered pointing to his chest, “Dil mein!” Meaning “Inside my heart!”
One day going homeward, the bus stopped at a junction. It was the last trip of the bus. A man, obviously waiting long for a transport, asked expectantly to the conductor whether the bus would take him to the opposite end of the route. The conductor smiled and replied politely, “Oh yes! But tomorrow.”
One day an irritable man got in midway and immediately picked up a fight with another passenger. The debate was over something very trivial and quite unnecessary lasting only a few stops after which the man got down. Summing up the situation, another commuter said dryly, “Meet Mr. James Bond! He came, played , won and left!”
In a crowded bus it was very common to step on another person’s foot unknowingly. A passenger, his foot being crushed under the weight of another elderly passenger’s boot, politely retorted, “Dada, anek to holo. Ebaar ei paataa nin.” Translated it meant, “Brother, you have been standing quite long on my foot. Leave this one. I will give you my other foot to stand on.”
Thus, these contraptions on wheels wherein we spent quite a few hours, sometimes even longer, accommodated each one of its users on a day to day basis, like a machine with a mammoth heart, ungrudgingly and with a touch of bizarre humour.
I smiled: he’s a lady.🤭 and the other one who offered the other foot. Beautiful share, gc
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Thank you Hazel. Every city had its own humour.
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I’m pretty sure! My pleasure, gc
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Love these stories Geeta.
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Thank you very much dear Sadje. ❤️
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You’re most welcome 🤗
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What a clear description of such resilience
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Thank you so much Derrrick 🙏
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Wonderful insight into the bus system! I love the phrase about someone standing on your foot. Very enjoyable read. 🙏
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Thank you so much Liz for reading and I am glad you enjoyed the post.
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Your post brought back sweet and sour memories,Geeta Di
We enjoyed travelling in the buses with our colleagues but at times suffered and choked due to overload.
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I remember the buses to the University. Eve teasing was a regular feature and no one dared to speak out. But in Calcutta the scene was totally different.
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In Kashmir,state run buses had no overload but the timings didn’t always suit us and they didn’t have a stereo to play songs,so we preferred public transport.
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Kolkata buses did not have any stereo. The only entertainment was the conversation of the commuters.
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Bengalis and the sense of humour 😀 I remember those blue buses when we would visit my aunt in Kolkata and I remember rickety wooden benches on the bus! Those were some rides. And the sudden appearance of vendors selling candies, “tok, jhaal, mistie” 😀
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And the chaanachoor and jhaal moori!! Those were the rides. Yes, the humour was unforgettable.
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This was so culture rich and your memories were shared in a way where I can imagine the details – and laughed with please stand on the other foot now…
also this was so powerful
“In the other buses, the inside temperature rose due to their size and structure and the piles of human bodies dripping with sweat glued to each other and small windows hindering air passage.”
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Thank you so much Yvette for your deep reading and understanding of this culture rich experience 🙏.
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🙏.
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It’s good to have a sense of humour. I like the man pretending to be a lady. Initiative. 😂
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Sometimes humour sees us through tough times.
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What a vivid and delightful slice of Kolkata life! Your storytelling beautifully captures the chaos, warmth, resilience, and unmistakable humor of everyday bus journeys. The anecdotes are both entertaining and deeply human, bringing an entire era to life with charm and authenticity.
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Thank you so much Vijay ji. I am glad you got the whiff of that era through this post.
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“Dil mein!” is genuinely one of the greatest lines of quick thinking I’ve ever read, Geeta. The man’s entire strategy hinged on the conductor not asking follow-up questions, and it worked! And “Meet Mr. James Bond! He came, played, won and left” deserves to be printed on a plaque somewhere. But my favourite is the polite foot-swap negotiation, only in Kolkata would getting your foot crushed turn into an act of diplomatic courtesy. What a wonderful, chaotic, oddly tender way to commute.
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Thank you Khadija for aligning with the post so well. Yes, these are those one liners which stay with you all your life to be recounted and relived again and again on gloomy days.
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A beautiful reflection on memories and the emotions they carry. Even simple moments from the past can hold meaning, reminding us of experiences, laughter, struggles, and the stories that shape who we are. ✨
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Safiaji, sorry for the delayed reply. But sometimes memories are what you are left with. Greatest wealth …
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Kya baat hai! I thoroughly enjoyed reading this. You turned everyday bus journeys into memories full of humour, warmth, and nostalgia. 😊
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Hi Rajeshwari! Thanks for the words of appreciation. They mean a lot. I guess, remembering happy moments is a good form of entertainment. What say you??
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Awe, “Dil mein!” was too good. My wish to visit Kolkata is growing day by day.
I have read many stories about Mumbai’s commuting culture, including experiences on the local trains and BEST buses. It was equally fascinating to read about Kolkata.
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To be very honest the people running after the local train in Mumbai scared me. BEST was cool.
You must visit Kolkata. It’s full of culture, heritage, legacy, history, cuisine and the city grows on you.
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Loved every bit of humor and I could imagine the same. 😀
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Thank you so much Ganga
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Thank you for sharing the daily travel experience of many people in your area, Geeta. Happy Sunday to you.
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