An Experiment in Public Transport

April is the first month in the last 25 years when my usage of public transport within the city will exceed my driving. Over the last year, the transition to Bangalore's bus system has been a humbling & delightful experience. On the bus from Indiranagar to Koramangala, for instance, or on the way back, one sees the microcosm of humanity that, in traffic, hides behind the ubiquitous helmet or dark-tinted screen. The air in the bus is heavy with the sweet smell of gutka, the killer substance I have elsewhere referred to as Branded Cocaine, the odd string of jasmine on a lady's hair adding to the existing heady perfume. A number of young men and women from the North East are regulars, leaving the lazy comforts of their lovely, verdant homes to labour in an alien city as watchmen, gym instructors and retail store staff. They - both men and women - are still the subject of some distasteful attention from the 'locals', despite Bangalore's cross-cultural, cosmopolitan history - the attention being entirely due to skin colour, the other Indian obsession (other than gold, that is). The odd foreigner is always interesting company for he (or she) has a most perplexed expression while conversing with the conductor, whose genetic absence of courtesy, combined with a rough, ready wit, is displayed in full splendour to the amusement of those around this odd couple. And then, there are the eunuchs.

Well, eunuchs need to travel, you know. What was most interesting for me was to learn that they were particularly well behaved with the conductor and with other passengers on the bus, in sharp contrast to the exaggerated displays of crudity that we see increasingly at traffic signals on main roads. One vocal pair sat behind me (a few anxious moments, I agree) and spoke in animated Tamil on domestic issues that we would otherwise ascribe to others, not as engendered (my childhood propensity for puns must be excused).
And finally, there are the mofussil commuters - the men and women who travel to and from the city everyday. If I had the lamp with a genie, I did wish that he gave them the opportunity to have a bath at shorter intervals. Thus, when I do take the mofussil bus, it is often with a heavy heart and a close examination of the carbon I am keeping out of the atmosphere by doing so.
A brief word on the Bangalore bus network: a huge improvement over the last decade, excellent connectivity, niche products for different price points and an army of drivers who would gladly slaughter the population to be on time, if their driving is to be witnessed from an inside-out view.
Here's the crux though: I don't find enough of 'us' on the bus. The definition of 'us'? Those who have the economic power to pollute - the middle & the upper middle strata of economic distribution. We are the problem. Just as in Mumbai, the problem is not the Bihari, but the rich Mumbaiya, who sees consumption of finite resources as his birthright, in Bangalore, the problem is the lifestyle - seeking software engineer, buying his SUV-cum-truck-cum dining-hall-in-the-back-seat, not the man from the North East. I am convinced that the tipping point for the environment will be when people who can afford something learn to not have it, rather than when people who do not have something get it.

Yes, we need more of 'us' in the bus, and not just in the air-conditioned Volvos that ply restricted routes.
The Volvo has its own charm, a subject that I shall keep for another day.