A Monograph on the Inner Psychology of a Bus Driver-cum-GDP Enhancer in God’s Own Country

 I returned to Bangalore from Ernakulam this morning and took the usual airport bus back home and there were times when I thought I was still in the aircraft because the landscape passed by in a blur.  But I did not complain. Here is the crunch: if you live in Bangalore and ever complain about the way drivers of BMTC go about their business of letting others know just who the boss is, I will know that the two places you haven’t visited are Kerala and Himachal.

A private bus driver in Kerala is generally a certified homicidal maniac.  He has a set, grim face and will not look at you (or me or any sub-species like us that are worthy of the deepest contempt).  He generally does not speak to commuters and will grunt or stare in expressive response that tells you that he is not, decidedly Not, Happy. He generally has three states of Being: Not Happy, Unhappy, Furious.  If he speaks a sentence at all - it is generally a whiplash and torrent in one - it means he is decidedly Unhappy (State 2).. If it is more than one sentence, he has moved to State 3.  If you are the subject of State 3, please transform into a boll worm and evaporate in Society’s larger interest.

His principal interest (other than population annihilation, which has been a lifelong passion) is to beat his earlier timing between two destination points. This goal he pursues with determined fervour of the take-no-prisoners variety, inspired by the great white shark of which he has a sticker next to his speedometer. This means driving at top speed on a two-lane road in the wrong lane, giving the oncoming traffic plenty of how-to-handle-the-steering-wheel-while-keeping-heart-beat-at -only-150 experience and providing just the right catalyst for premature ageing and religious belief - they all have pictures of gods, goddesses, crosses and symbols next to their speedometers, clutches, brakes, gear levers, seats, windows and fuel tanks to neutralise GWS (Great White S...).  When he brakes, he doesn’t just press the brake: he screeches, skids, swerves and swears to an inch of the vehicle ahead of him.  The back seat passenger in this vehicle will, in mortal, petrified, shrunken fear, never look back, thus enabling a Life lesson in philosophy that all those motivational videos about Looking-Forward can never teach.

He specialises in sidelining any vehicles in his lane by racing neck-to-neck and then effecting a deft and subtle turn to the left sending the other driver into an advanced state of panic and providing hospitals revenue in their cardiac departments, hence contributing to national GDP (where the P does not stand for Panic). And, as you can see from the picture below, there are even buses named Good Luck that offer a rather dire warning to oncoming traffic.

On a journey in one of these starships, I was offered the sideseat right in front, facing the driver, but the conductor saw the terrified look in the eyes and then said, “Ok, you stand in the middle then and wait for a seat. Many older people find that seat uncomfortable.” I swallowed my pride of course with a “You have no idea. I have rock black hair, it’s just been dyed grey for today”. (No, actually I did not say that to him, no chance in hell, but fantasising never costs you anything). 

The astonishing thing about all of this is that the people in the bus don’t seem to mind.  But that is because they – like all Mallus the world over – are bloody smart: it’s better, they reason, to be inside than out.