Off the top of my head:
I traveled by bus the other day. On the way back from college. *dances* And was thrilled to part with just a five rupee coin, instead of the usual forty bucks. And was very proud of self because Ive never been able to travel by bus in Bangalore.
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I should perhaps stop here to tell you that Im now in Mumbai, studying at St Xaviers (yes, that place where they shot Jaane Tu Ya Jaane Na! *does excited dance* Forgive me. It's the only Hindi movie Ive been able to watch twice, apart from Lagaan) and Im doing a PG diploma in advertising and marketing, and Ive been here a month and many adventures have happened that I havent written about.
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Now that that is out of the way, we can get back to the bus. It was awesome. Ok maybe not awesome. Maybe there were lots of people coughing and sneezing. In your face if they could. And maybe there was one man in a surgical mask which made me get to thinking that i should possibly be worried and wearing one too. And maybe there was a man in a netaji cap who should probably have used some deodorant if he didnt want people around him to keep fainting. Maybe. But still. It was awesome.
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Better at least than traveling in a cab whose driver is the stupidest man on the planet. I swear, I am NOT joking, I should have taken a picture, it'd have gotten me millions. Westside to Bachelors, should have been 13 bucks, you dont want to HEAR the exorbitant amount he charged me because he was too dumb to know the route.
Because of recent swine flu scare I have been severely instructed by the 'rents not to use any mode of public transport, and to use the cabs everyday and to wear a mask and not to breathe too much if possible.
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But most cabbies are quite nice actually. Really nice in fact. Better than our local autodrivers most definitely. Always ready to help, making friendly conversation, not laughing at your broken hindi, sharing tips on how to prevent swine flu. In fact, people in general are more friendly there than here Ive noticed. When I landed at the airport this time I forgot I was at Bangalore and "No thank you plus smile"-ed at a dude who asked me whether wanted a taxi. Whereupon he sniggered at me and muttered something offensive in Kannada. After which I realised that this is not Mumbai MM, the appropriate response would be loud tsking and a rolling of the eyes before glaring at said man.
Havent you noticed that in Bangalore, being friendly doesnt work well with most of the people you have to deal with? I had to rewire my entire system after we moved back from London when I was eight. We do have our good qualities, but being civil and genuinely friendly to strangers is not one of them.
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Also, Ive been able to pick up Hindi much quicker than it took me to learn Kannada because people arent constantly correcting, judging and critiquing what Im saying and then laughing at me. Here they just take my broken Hindi and keep talking to me, I swear Ive gotten so much better at it. Soon I will be able to hurl abuses at the occassional foolish cabbie in fluent Hindi.
I tried talking to my mum in Kannada over the phone the other day and all that came out was broken Hindi. Funny how things change, in the beginning, I'd talk to the cabbies in Kannada not realising until they turned around and stared at me questioningly.
I like Mumbai. :)
I love Bangalore too though. This week break thanks to Swine Flu Scare has been too short.
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Back to the PG tonight. I stay in Tardeo. On the 29th floor, three sides sea facing, in a flat where the rooms are all painted bright and wonderful colours. My roommate is a sweetheart. I have it gooood. This I have realised this more deeply after a month in Mumbai. Accommodation is really expensive here. But we found a gem. PG aunty is Nepali, who married an Iyer, so she cooks us nepali achaars and otherwise south Indian type food for a very nominal rate. Her kids are all grown up and away, so their beautiful penthouse is ours for a year. :) I have the blue room. Just in case you wanted to know. There is also a pink room, a yellow room and the hall is orange and green. And although this sounds tacky, it is really not. :)
Lookit that. Im missing the place. Seems like I have two homes, for the now. :)
Anyway, while she may be really Brahmin with some of her rules, dont touch the used plate to the table, dont touch food in the pots once you've started eating etc, she's really decent about curfews and the like. Osh and I walked in at 4am the day we'd gone to Pune (that was loads of fun, the Hard Rock Cafe there is to die for, and try their mashed potato with gravy. Drool. Also there's this shop called Babe there. If I die and go to heaven, I hope I will wake up to find myself in Babe. Very afforable fantastic fashion. Needless to say, we went a little crazy. Im also in love with Pune. Everything is so much nicer and cheaper there. Of course there's the swine flu and all as well. Balances out.) And I walked in at 2am the day our class went to Zenzy's, only to find her watching Hindi soaps with her mum and her sister who've come down from Nepal to visit. Is she ever one for Hindi soaps.
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Incidentally, we saw Abhay Deol at Zenzy's. He was with two guys in this room at the back where Something Relevant was about to start playing, and the room was empty, ad me sai and shashank walk in and see them there. And we nod at each other and continue to stand there for the longest time the three of us whispering about whether we should actually be there or not, until people started to fill in. I'll have to admit, I didnt know he was an actor, havent seen him before, I only knew because they told me. I need to really watch some Hindi movies.
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I have glimpsed quite a few celebs here in Mumbai actually. :D The other day as Shanks and I are walking out of college, we turn around to see Rahul Bose walking behind us. :D
Our college has a lotta celebrities visiting it. Abdul Kalam came. And Hilary Clinton and Aamir Khan. Heavy security. The day we had Vivienne D Souza's class. She requires an entire blogpost for herself.
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College is nice. I miss my little gang or whatever you might call it. Sweethearts, although they would be greatly disturbed if they knew I was calling them that. Shanks from bangalore of course, Keegan, really musically talented and all, Savio, funny guy, easy to talk to "brand of our class", Arjun also plays the guitar and all that, fun to talk to, Mandar co- Paparazzi and entertainment provider. :D I actually miss it all! Ok, now Im ready to go back. Then there's Yashad whose funniness I miss greatly. And Shreyas and Dorita and Apoorva Sneha and Neha, my comp partner Harsh, who's lots of fun, and lots of other wonderful people that Im just getting to know.
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And Malhar has been postponed to next week. Im excited about that, will probably blog about it when it happens. :) Oh and the Xaviers building, is beautiful!! I just love it! So Harry Potter esque. :) I only saw it because of Malhar. The XIC building isnt as splendiferous. Plus we have to climb to the third floor everyday. Blah. That bit sucks.
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So Week One was running around trying to find accommodation with mum and dad. Mr Vikram is a character I will not easily forget. Perhaps I will blog about him later.
Week Two was hospital with Malaria/dengue/mild viral hepatitis, the docs cant make up their minds.
Week Three was college, horse carriage rides with osh sai and shanks, visiting marine drive and gateway at midnight, eating at roadside restaurants and getting caught in HEAVY rains that only Shanks umbrella could withstand :D
Week four was Josy Paul and Vivienne D'Souza and some worthwhile teachers and Malhar and practice and all that. Oh and Mr Samir Chadha who I found out, worked on the Orbit cow ads!! :D He was one of our guest lecturers.
Week Five swine flu holidays and back in B'lore for a week and it's not nearly enough time for anything. :( Blah. Not nearly enough time.
I have just realised now that we have a LOAD of assignments due pretty soon, and I'd better buck up and finish them or I am going to be in a lot of soup.
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I have the feeling too many drawers open.
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Showing posts with label Buscapades. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Buscapades. Show all posts
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Catching the Bus- Pondy
Okay, so we went to Pondy. Me Osh NiceHair and NiceEyes, for a lovely two day break.
NiceEyes and Osh planned the whole thing... bus tickets and everything, while I sat around wondering if we were going to go or not and placing bets with my mum.
So anyway, we turn up there at Kalasipalya bus stop, where our travel agent's shop is and where he has promised us the bus will leave at 9.45pm.
We sat there, bus didnt come.
Its ten o' clock.
Finally the travel agent guy leads us through the rain and squelching mud to this rickety bus one would imagine chickens are transported in.
Thats our bus.
We get in and Osh and me find our seat numbers: 15, 16, 17, 18.
There's a boy sitting there. I tell him to get up, he throws attitude at me. I tell him this is our seat, he refuses to budge. I yell at him loudly in Kannada, he looks uncomfortable and sidles out. Me and Osh sit down.
"What the hell. First of all this bus is nothing we expected or paid for! Then this dude tries to grab our seat! What the hell!"
"Seriously MM! No way are we moving from here! We've paid for these seats, we sit in them, thats that!"
Coupla minutes later, drunk very loud, very authoritative conductor comes and tells us in no uncertain terms that we have to get up. I shout again, and look to the window for help from our good for nothing travel agent. He tells me yes yes, we have to get up.
We get up and are led to the front of the bus where drunk rude loud conductor tells us the story.
Our original bus has broken down, travel agent has requested him for four seats on this bus, and out of the kindness of his heart, he has agreed.
Two seats on the bench opposite the driver (which seats four, but which now has to be shared by six)
And two "mission" seats.
"What the hell is that?"
"Ingine ma, ingine."
Two of us'd have to sit on the bloody engine, next to the driver. One can only imagine how burnt our behinds would be after ten hours of that.
We're angry. But we want to get to Pondy. If this is how it has to be done, so be it.
After telling travel agent we'd be back for full refund, we set off, NiceHair on the "ingine", NiceEyes and Osh on the seat, me on Osh's lap.
To my right, pregnant lady, half sitting on husband, half on us, throwing up at regular intervals. Couldnt have been older than any of us. We gave her half our water, she was really grateful. Whispered to me in Tamil, next morning, that her bus stop was coming, and that I should get ready to grab her seat for ourselves before any of the other old hags caught it.
To my left, fat lady in green saree with loads of big big moogbottu and other jewelery, muttering curses at us in Tamil. When I cursed her back in Tamil, she was shocked out of her senses. It felt gooooood. That lady was a real pill. She even hit NiceEyes in the middle of the night. The driver shouted at her then and threatened to throw her off the bus if she didnt start behaving. Real nice chap, he was. Old man, sympathised with us.
NiceHair was stuck with this scheming lady who side-ily came and sat on the engine with her, and refused to get up when Osh decided that her legs were killing her, and that she'd brave the burning engine anyway.
The two of them had to manage on that tiny spot of lava for the last seven hours, in addition to it all, being nudged and pushed around by her.
Bus broke down in the night and we were delayed for half an hour.
We asked sidey lady to shift a little so that Osh had some place to breathe. It wasnt even her goddam seat in the first place for crying out loud.
Pompous old paati sitting behind the driver butts her nose in. This was way too much to take. I yelled at her loudly in Tamil and told her to mind her own business. She shut up. Driver came and peace was restored.
We slept not at all that whole night.
We stopped at 5.30am. But we weren't in Pondy.
We had to take another bus to get there.
The driver was amazing though. I tell you, my knowing Tamil had such benefits. Immediate camaraderie. He didnt let us take the bus the rest were taking, he got us one with seats, and bought us the tickets, advised us to inform the police about this bugger travel agent who took so much money from us, and waved us off, the dear.
What adventures I tell you.
Caught half an hour's shut eye before we finally reached Pondy.
Aaaargh what a journey.
NiceEyes and Osh planned the whole thing... bus tickets and everything, while I sat around wondering if we were going to go or not and placing bets with my mum.
So anyway, we turn up there at Kalasipalya bus stop, where our travel agent's shop is and where he has promised us the bus will leave at 9.45pm.
We sat there, bus didnt come.
Its ten o' clock.
Finally the travel agent guy leads us through the rain and squelching mud to this rickety bus one would imagine chickens are transported in.
Thats our bus.
We get in and Osh and me find our seat numbers: 15, 16, 17, 18.
There's a boy sitting there. I tell him to get up, he throws attitude at me. I tell him this is our seat, he refuses to budge. I yell at him loudly in Kannada, he looks uncomfortable and sidles out. Me and Osh sit down.
"What the hell. First of all this bus is nothing we expected or paid for! Then this dude tries to grab our seat! What the hell!"
"Seriously MM! No way are we moving from here! We've paid for these seats, we sit in them, thats that!"
Coupla minutes later, drunk very loud, very authoritative conductor comes and tells us in no uncertain terms that we have to get up. I shout again, and look to the window for help from our good for nothing travel agent. He tells me yes yes, we have to get up.
We get up and are led to the front of the bus where drunk rude loud conductor tells us the story.
Our original bus has broken down, travel agent has requested him for four seats on this bus, and out of the kindness of his heart, he has agreed.
Two seats on the bench opposite the driver (which seats four, but which now has to be shared by six)
And two "mission" seats.
"What the hell is that?"
"Ingine ma, ingine."
Two of us'd have to sit on the bloody engine, next to the driver. One can only imagine how burnt our behinds would be after ten hours of that.
We're angry. But we want to get to Pondy. If this is how it has to be done, so be it.
After telling travel agent we'd be back for full refund, we set off, NiceHair on the "ingine", NiceEyes and Osh on the seat, me on Osh's lap.
To my right, pregnant lady, half sitting on husband, half on us, throwing up at regular intervals. Couldnt have been older than any of us. We gave her half our water, she was really grateful. Whispered to me in Tamil, next morning, that her bus stop was coming, and that I should get ready to grab her seat for ourselves before any of the other old hags caught it.
To my left, fat lady in green saree with loads of big big moogbottu and other jewelery, muttering curses at us in Tamil. When I cursed her back in Tamil, she was shocked out of her senses. It felt gooooood. That lady was a real pill. She even hit NiceEyes in the middle of the night. The driver shouted at her then and threatened to throw her off the bus if she didnt start behaving. Real nice chap, he was. Old man, sympathised with us.
NiceHair was stuck with this scheming lady who side-ily came and sat on the engine with her, and refused to get up when Osh decided that her legs were killing her, and that she'd brave the burning engine anyway.
The two of them had to manage on that tiny spot of lava for the last seven hours, in addition to it all, being nudged and pushed around by her.
Bus broke down in the night and we were delayed for half an hour.
We asked sidey lady to shift a little so that Osh had some place to breathe. It wasnt even her goddam seat in the first place for crying out loud.
Pompous old paati sitting behind the driver butts her nose in. This was way too much to take. I yelled at her loudly in Tamil and told her to mind her own business. She shut up. Driver came and peace was restored.
We slept not at all that whole night.
We stopped at 5.30am. But we weren't in Pondy.
We had to take another bus to get there.
The driver was amazing though. I tell you, my knowing Tamil had such benefits. Immediate camaraderie. He didnt let us take the bus the rest were taking, he got us one with seats, and bought us the tickets, advised us to inform the police about this bugger travel agent who took so much money from us, and waved us off, the dear.
What adventures I tell you.
Caught half an hour's shut eye before we finally reached Pondy.
Aaaargh what a journey.
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Catching the Bus- Goa
Suffering Succotash! As Lalitha said.
I am such a lazy bum. Lazy I tell you. Goa was a blast. So much fun. And I'm too comatose to write about it all. Or even upload pics on Facebook so that long suffering friends can see them.
Even now my fingers are dragging themselves across the keyboard in mild protest at the labour they're being put through.
Anyway since this post is supposed to be about Goa, I'll get on with it.
We almost missed the bus to Goa in the first place. Yeah.
Bus leaves at 7.30pm. We're stuck in traffic and its effing seven forty.
I'm convinced we've missed it and am hyperventilating.
Snum's trying to calm me down on the way to the bus station ("Ay those buses no... they're always half an hour late... minimum.")
Osho's already mildy motion sick (minus the throwing up).
We're coming up with Plan B's ("Okay okay... What we'll do is, we'll camp out at Osh's hostel for the next five days. Okay? We'll like, get fake tans, take some rigged photos, buy a coupla Goa T shirts and just say we went. That way our parents wont kill us, and we'll go on to lead the lives we were otherwise meant to. Okay? Fine? Cool.")
We get to Majestic. Late. I bound into the station with my luggage, almost breaking my arm in the process. Osh and Snum follow. I frantically sidestep sewage, asking people in Kannada where platform number 1A is. (I love being the competent one among us who knows the local language. Ha ha. Didnt like it a bit when it all that reversed in Goa where we'd to communicate in Hindi.)
They point somewhere, we look.
It's the platform farthest away from us. (Well, obviously.)
And there's a big AC bus just leaving from it.
"Thats the one Osh! Thats the bus!" I scream.
I feel a whoosh of air against me as Osho ROCKETS past, all motion sickness vanished, her strolley thundering after her. Snum gives me an amused look and sprints off after her. I totter forward at a slower pace. I figure they'll make the bus wait anyway.
I lose track of them. Couple minutes later, I spot them standing near the platform. Their expressions are unfathomable.
Was that a smile? Or a grimace?
Will the next five days be Galavanting in Goa or Hiding in Hostel?
Turns out they were just catching their breath. Too busy panting to look happy or relieved.
We hadnt missed it (Surprise! There's something you didnt expect) In fact, the bus hadnt even arrived at Majestic yet. Snum's bull turned out to be true. This time at least.
All that running around like headless chickens for nothing.
(NB: Yes, I do understand that technically, we didnt "almost miss the bus", but as mentioned earlier, I am currently too lazy a state to think of any other way to refer to it)
I am such a lazy bum. Lazy I tell you. Goa was a blast. So much fun. And I'm too comatose to write about it all. Or even upload pics on Facebook so that long suffering friends can see them.
Even now my fingers are dragging themselves across the keyboard in mild protest at the labour they're being put through.
Anyway since this post is supposed to be about Goa, I'll get on with it.
We almost missed the bus to Goa in the first place. Yeah.
Bus leaves at 7.30pm. We're stuck in traffic and its effing seven forty.
I'm convinced we've missed it and am hyperventilating.
Snum's trying to calm me down on the way to the bus station ("Ay those buses no... they're always half an hour late... minimum.")
Osho's already mildy motion sick (minus the throwing up).
We're coming up with Plan B's ("Okay okay... What we'll do is, we'll camp out at Osh's hostel for the next five days. Okay? We'll like, get fake tans, take some rigged photos, buy a coupla Goa T shirts and just say we went. That way our parents wont kill us, and we'll go on to lead the lives we were otherwise meant to. Okay? Fine? Cool.")
We get to Majestic. Late. I bound into the station with my luggage, almost breaking my arm in the process. Osh and Snum follow. I frantically sidestep sewage, asking people in Kannada where platform number 1A is. (I love being the competent one among us who knows the local language. Ha ha. Didnt like it a bit when it all that reversed in Goa where we'd to communicate in Hindi.)
They point somewhere, we look.
It's the platform farthest away from us. (Well, obviously.)
And there's a big AC bus just leaving from it.
"Thats the one Osh! Thats the bus!" I scream.
I feel a whoosh of air against me as Osho ROCKETS past, all motion sickness vanished, her strolley thundering after her. Snum gives me an amused look and sprints off after her. I totter forward at a slower pace. I figure they'll make the bus wait anyway.
I lose track of them. Couple minutes later, I spot them standing near the platform. Their expressions are unfathomable.
Was that a smile? Or a grimace?
Will the next five days be Galavanting in Goa or Hiding in Hostel?
Turns out they were just catching their breath. Too busy panting to look happy or relieved.
We hadnt missed it (Surprise! There's something you didnt expect) In fact, the bus hadnt even arrived at Majestic yet. Snum's bull turned out to be true. This time at least.
All that running around like headless chickens for nothing.
(NB: Yes, I do understand that technically, we didnt "almost miss the bus", but as mentioned earlier, I am currently too lazy a state to think of any other way to refer to it)
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