Pee Tee Cee, Chennai
To those of us in Chennai who lack an excuse for coming late, there's always the infallible PTC. Admittedly, I make it sound like PTC drivers are fanatics who derive mindless pleasure, out of depriving us of the glorious opportunity of being on time, but it is more or less true (I've always had an unprejudiced mind). Come to think of it, it isn't always the driver responsible for the chaos, but often the passengers themselves. What does the average person do the moment the right bus stops in front of him? Simple, he grabs the handle and hauls himself in. Following the above train of thought, I proceeded to grab the handle when I became aware of an odd substance on my palm. Closer examination revealed it to be well-masticated paan. The culprit turned out to be an old lady who smiled apologetically. Having revealed two rows of discoloured teeth, she spat on the steps, giving me a red carpet welcome. Three seconds in the bus got me wishing I'd been born without a nose - a basket of decaying fish which would have given a skunk a severe inferiority complex. After politely denying an offer to buy fresh fish, I proceeded to get squashed. There seems to be some kind of law (as stable as Newton's) - A body in a PTC bus continues to remain in a state of maximum compression unless compelled to change that state by jumping out of the window". Take a single bus, install an irritable conductor and a driver with the time sense of an over-aged turtle. Add couple of hundred people (one fishmonger for sure) on the inside and another fifty on the outside. It is essential that at least one of the 100 people inside feel queasy, so that they may conveniently throw up on their seat, or onto some unfortunate soul who happens to be hanging precariously from the window, and voila! You've got the perfect recipe for the black hole! Pardon me…a PTC bus! It is quite understandable that under such circumstances tempers flare, unrest grows and people stop thinking beautiful thoughts. There is a constant shuffling of feet and the anger slowly accumulates. Those who are seated may derive sadistic pleasure out of asking the less fortunate ones to move so that they may stretch their feet. A few seconds before the outbreak there's an ominous silence. The tension rises and everybody waits for something to give. A drunkard might permit you to sample some of his fresh breath energy and then one of the two will collapse onto the lady seated nearby (its always a lady, there is no exception to this rule). That triggers of an entire chain of events. The lady goes hysterical, and accuses you harassing her ever since she got onto the bus. The drunkard is usually deeply moved by her plight and grabs you by the collar. Chaos breaks out and confusion reigns supreme. Somebody suddenly notices her gold chain is missing and has hysterics on the seat (whether she wore one while entering the bus is irrelevant). People suddenly realise they've been pick-pocketed and start yelling on top of their voice. One over enthusiastic young man will yell for the police and demand that the bus be stopped immediately. The driver will mildly point out the bus has been caught in a traffic jam for the past hour and a half and that he has no choice. The over enthusiastic young man will then get down and run away. The drunkard meanwhile will tell the driver what he thinks of him and then accuse him of running away with his wife (there is no exception to this rule either). Finally the traffic clears and the bus starts (under extreme cases, the driver has fled and the drunkard is at the wheel). Things clear up eventually and you arrive at your destination. You get down, leaving your sanity behind. One may wonder how people survive this everday grind, but they do. I am a veteran, having survived 12 long arduous years on the PTC bus. Sure, this may account for my occasional bouts of insanity, or it may be the reason I wake up screaming at nights. But otherwise I'm perfectly alright. |
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