“Fools rush in where angels fear to tread”, said Pope, and this I quoted every time I saw people waiting for the BTS buses. I considered travel by BTS buses insipid and monotonous and developed an insatiable thirst for cycling. But, thanks to the BCC, the BWSSB, and the KEB, all working cyclically throughout the year on the City roads, I quit pedaling and started traveling exclusively by BTS buses.
On numerous occasions, I have condemned my friends for wasting their youthful energy in waiting for the unreliable BTAS buses. “Pedal and simultaneously exercise, save time” I used to say. Agreed. But then, I got fed up with taking my dear bike frequently to the doctor for treatment of the ulcers on the bladder. In fact, I was doing more of walking than cycling! In addition, I would any day prefer to strain my tough limbs (the result of years of cycling?) to my weak back and my weaker bike.
Believe me, just a couple of weeks of continuous bus travel has made me repent for not having taken to it still earlier. I have inculcated an eternal sense of “over punctuality.” I leave my house at least an hour and a half before college time and this has given impetus to my morning chores. I have clearly realized that man learns to appreciate life, thus, justifying his living in this world, only by living amidst people, people, and more people.
With people from all walks of life thronging the BTS buses, I now wonder why BTS has not been named “Behavior Training School” and why people have not made use of the services of the BTS to tutor their wards in moral and social sciences.
Just observe the romantic interludes, the exciting scuffles, the authoritative political talks and debates, etc. and the adventures on the foot board. These offer a plethora of opportunities to study human behavior and in a few days you’ll be able to sketch the character of the persons and you’ll start questioning whether solitude is the school of the genius!
I have started off with a bang and “trained” at least one person in human sciences inside the BTS buses. In the process, I too have learnt a few valuable lessons and effortlessly digested the implications of “tradition”, “generation gap”, etc., on our daily life.
My nephew Shekar, who has only this year entered college, wanted to understand tradition, generation gap, westernism, and wanted ta few tips in behavior amidst women.
I paid the requisite tuition and procured admission to the Behavior Training School. I apprised Shekar of its dynamism and advised him to keep his eyes and ears wide open. To avoid jerks and simultaneously study the women, we occupied one of the front rows marked “Ladies.” (But Bangalore isn’t Madras; so this is not a problem!). Shekar was unable to imagine why our women stood in the front hanging dangerously to the support handles and straps when rows of seats were partially empty in the rear. A couple women walked straight towards us expecting us to vacate our seats.
I felt sad and said to one of them in Kannada “M’am, there are plenty of seats in the back.”
She harshly replied. “Mind your business. If you are willing to vacate, vacate.” (literal translation from local Kannada). I kept mum and struck to my seat. Shekar, horrified by her reply vacated his seat only to occupy after a short interval, as no woman sat beside me! (just a boy in the early twenties, let alone a man of marriageable age!)
A few days later Shekar, and of course I, was surprised when a pregnant lady, sweating profusely, failed to occupy a seat beside a man sitting in one of the front rows. Irritated by the behavior of the women, at home Shekar asked my sister “why is it that you girls don’t sit next to men in buses, even when the seats are empty?” Probably Shekar wanted an explanation straight from the filly’s mouth; hence, he didn’t ask me the question. “Tradition”, explained my sister.
“What have you learned so far?” I asked Shekar. “Never irritate a lady, and beware, your consideration for a fat lady might be mistaken”, smilingly he shot back.
Throughout Shekar’s schooling in the BTS buses, I tried my best to occupy the front rows with Shekar preferably behind. Once, a girl in a bottom-hugging-jeans sat beside me (a filmy coincidence?). The bus had hardly moved when she commented in English, adjusting her rectangular glasses. “It’s too sultry” and a short while later asked “May I know the time” and adjusted her watch. Encountered once again by Shekar’s probing questions, at home, my sister remarked, “Generation gap.” But Shekar wasn’t convinced.
However, he admitted having learnt a second lesson. Can take a few liberties with modern girls. Can talk about the weather, the Sun and the Moon. Can ask the time and adjust the watch.
The next time at school, Shekar pressed me to experiment; behavior study is a better phrase. Reluctantly, I accepted the challenge. Though no girl sat beside me, I decided to ask “May I know the time?” to the girl in front. Just when I was all set to do so, the bus screeched to a rapid halt and my forehead dashed against the steel bar in the front. Guessed the route number? 14!
“Sorry”, I mumbled as the girl turned behind. Shekar laughed while I cried in pain. As we got down from the bus, I lovingly said to Shekar, “C’mon, take the third lesson. Never think of a girl in a moving bus” as the Behavior Training School sped away from us.