TrendingVideosIndia
Opinions | CommentEditorialsThe MiddleLetters to the EditorReflections
Sports
State | Himachal PradeshPunjabJammu & KashmirHaryanaChhattisgarhMadhya PradeshRajasthanUttarakhandUttar Pradesh
City | ChandigarhAmritsarJalandharLudhianaDelhiPatialaBathindaShaharnama
World | United StatesPakistan
Diaspora
Features | Time CapsuleSpectrumIn-DepthTravelFood
EntertainmentIPL 2025
Business | My MoneyAutoZone
UPSC | Exam ScheduleExam Mentor
Advertisement

Missing the bus, literally

BengalUREANS born in the middle of the last century would associate with the phrase ‘missed the bus’. Catching these elusive ‘red beauties’ was a tall order, and during peak hours, people would queue up for what seemed to be an...
Advertisement

BengalUREANS born in the middle of the last century would associate with the phrase ‘missed the bus’. Catching these elusive ‘red beauties’ was a tall order, and during peak hours, people would queue up for what seemed to be an eternity before elbowing into the packed vehicles. 

Taking the bus was literally the survival of the fittest and not for gentler souls. People also adopted innovative ways to reserve seats at the departure points, including dropping handkerchiefs through the bus windows.

Advertisement

Footboard mishaps were common. A tribe of commuters would also distance themselves from the conductor when he stepped forth to issue tickets. Conductors also did not crown themselves with glory by pilfering, despite checks by the transport authorities.

The bus was the cheapest intra-city transport. In the ’60s, a trip from Fraser Town (where we lived) to Shivajinagar cost 10 paise. Our favourite destination was Shoolay, where my great-grandmother lived with her large joint family straddling three generations.

Our family of seven would board a bus on Madhavraya Mudaliar Road or Mosque Road to Shivajinagar. On disembarking at Shivajinagar, we would scramble into any bus passing through Shoolay. The bus would pass popular landmarks, such as BRV theatre and Parade Ground, and cut into the iconic Mahatma Gandhi Road before trundling down Brigade Road and halting between Opera Cinema and St Patrick’s Church. There were no one-way restrictions or traffic signals then, and the buses sported destination boards in English. 

Advertisement

Crowded buses also bred pick-pockets who lifted purses with stealth and finesse. Some miscreants operated in gangs. So I adopted the ploy of securing the cash in my shirt pocket. But many others who employed a similar tactic found themselves outsmarted.

We seldom travelled in double-deckers that ran on select routes. So when we commuted in these tall coaches, it was only on the precious upper deck. The view from the top was glorious. A double-decker that had a long run before the authorities took them off the roads was the one that traversed from City Market to Shivajinagar. 

The BTS also had a fleet of grey-yellow trailer buses or road trains, ferrying passengers on select routes. However, seeing these vehicles take a turn was a mind-boggling sight. Some preferred the rear car to avoid the front engine’s roar.

Some popular trailer buses would operate from Ramamandira in Rajajinagar to Shivajinagar, and from Bangalore City bus station to Gandhi Bazar. The phased-out double-decker and road train now remain just a distant memory.

Advertisement
Show comments
Advertisement