On the 29th of the last month, my sister delivered us a very happy surprise- a nephew and I, soaked in `maternal- aunt` love decided to go to Delhi to see him at once. However, at that time I had no clue that this would prove to be a journey of awakening.
The first train from Aligarh to Delhi runs at six in the morning and I had every plan of getting on it until the time I reached the railway station. Let me tell you this weird fact that most railway stations in India look more of a relief camp (with a hundred or more dull and lost faces filling its every corner) and less of a railroad station. Once I was there, I began with the never ending process of being able to get hold of a ticket. Standing in a cue does not hurt as much as the sound of the lady standing right next to you when she calls out to her husband(trying his luck in the men`s cue) every second minute or the site of her, thrashing her children every time they dare move an inch. Nevertheless, after trying my luck for twenty minutes, I was still behind seven people in the line and without a ticket. I knew my chances were negative and so, I decided to take a bus instead.
There are buses at a gap of every five minute to Delhi and hence getting one was never much of a problem. However, sitting inside it for four hours was a big one because in any roadways bus in India, the windows and the seats make more noise than the passengers themselves. One inevitable thing that I came to know after traveling in a roadways bus that day, is that the peanuts are omnipresent in India. Irrespective of what season it is; you will always find at least a few peanut wraps under some seat of an Indian bus. And if you are lucky enough, you will get a romantic driver who will make Mohd. Rafi and Altaf Raja, your accomplices in the journey.
The most unendurable yet the funniest part of an Indian bus journey begins when the driver pulls the bus at some road side plaza for tea and enters the man who is there to sell you the world`s best products. In my case, that day, the efficient sales person turned out to be a rather gory looking man trying to dispose off some tablets that he claimed would come handy in case of constipation and loose motions, vomiting, nausea and what not! (It seemed like the tablet was this medical wonder that could singly cure everything, even AIDS). Even more surprising was this- some half of the passengers bought it. We were on the road again in no time. Alas! The rest of the journey was rather eventless and the free time it provided, prompted me to think about the traveling saga of India.
The road transport in India is neither crippled nor impotent. It is very capable of delivering good results; where we lack in a major way is the administration. There is no dearth of buses and trains but there is a nescience of a working staff that is willing to provide help. It is for this reason that enquiry numbers never connect and the cues on ticket counters take hours to move forward; that people sleep on railway platforms when there are rest rooms and the buses gets swabbed only once in a blue moon. If the situation is to be made better, the ministry of railways, roads and highway transport will have to start looking beyond increasing the counts. It will have to work more on getting an efficient administration in place.
The traveling Saga in India starts from twilight, owing to deficient administration, moves to an eclipse but with an effort can be made into a Breaking dawn.
