The bus experience

The bus screams along the road intimidating the tiny tuk tuks which buzz around like a swarm of angry wasps. Everyone standing sways in time with the lurches - forwards, backwards - dangling by their arms like giant pea pods ready for picking. Those lucky enough to have seats lean from side to side like riding a giant bob sleigh. The sweat from the man next me slowly trickles down my arm and I try to peel my legs off the plastic seat that I've melted to. Bus driver and conductor work in perfect harmony and the chanting of place names takes on an almost musical/poetic quality. The shouts "Haree haree" (okay - go) and "Binarr" (get down - stop) float continuously through the air. The all singing and dancing shrine- like Buddhist display flashes garishly at the front of the bus, surrounded by garlands of plastic flowers. Luggage racks are roped off to prevent bombs being left. The stop buzzer is an old fashioned bike bell attached to a long piece of string that runs the length of the bus - it works well and causes the driver to stamp on the breaks to produce an emergency stop the likes of which would impress the harshest of driving instructors. Through the windows comes the deafening clatter of the kothu roti choppers who dice the roti with two big blades and use them like they are playing percussion. My eyes hurt from staring intently out of the window, trying desperately hard to lock on to something I recognise so that I don't fly by my stop. My skin turns grey from the constant blast of dust from the street outside. As the conductor approaches me I pretend that I know the exact bus fare and confidently hand over the money, then look away....it works!