Close-Up 2011

I admit, over the past few days I have frequently done something that’s strictly forbidden: I jumped onto the moving bus. At first, it was from sheer necessity. There is no other way to enter these vehicles. In the meantime (to be honest), it’s even fun, as taking the bus in Kolkata generally is.

It’s gotten to the point where I’m frustrated if someone tells me a destination is too far or too complicated to reach by bus. While I react almost aggressively to taxi drivers who appear to agree that there is nothing simpler than to take a foreigner (mainly European) for a proverbial ride, in my eyes the crews on the busses are the absolute heroes of mass transit.

What these people do is simply incredible. Formula 1 races are already a bore to me, and since I began taking the bus regularly (primarily between Ballygunge Phari, the bus stop near my flat, and Camac Street, where our office is located), all the more so. Here in Kolkata, I experience an adventure on a daily basis that makes that spectacle pale in comparison. It is far more entertaining and also leads to personal contact.

Most bus stops are unrecognizable here. You just have to place yourself at the edge of the street where the most people are crowded together. They know where it is. Yet, even on your own, you simply need to raise your hand. So far, the men at the wheel have always slowed down for me.

There are no timetables displayed to help you find your way. It would basically be futile, since nothing can be timed in this chaos. So, it’s a good thing that the busses here in Kolkata have no doors. The conductors stand at the entryway and, as a Swabian with no idea of the routes and position of the stops, I simply shout out my desired destination. Either they wave me off or wave me in.

They also poignantly make sure that the guest from afar is not too uncomfortable. Sometimes people even get up, which I find embarrassing. Another thing that I am unaccustomed to: in Nürtingen no student has ever offered me their seat. There, taking their satchel off the seat next to them is the noblest of gestures.

Whenever I peer uncertain through the pane or stand up, thinking I must be nearing my destination, the conductor raises his right hand and then lowers it slowly with a reassuring glance. When he begins calling excitedly, I know I have to move towards the door. A few seconds later I feel a hand on my shoulder, then a slap, which means, “Son, get off!”

In the meantime, I pay my fare. It costs me six rupees to get to the office, that’s a little less than ten cents. Sunday evening I was on my way back from Belur temple on a regional bus: more than an hour and a half bus ride for 18 rupees! Horst Stammler, the boss at VVS, will be glad to know that I raise the flag for mass transit even in Kolkata, although it gives me more arguments that mass transit in the region is far too expensive. Still, I must admit that no one on the Neckar would board a bus like those on the Ganges. Incense before the devotional on the dashboard

I, however, am a genuine fan of these old jalopies whose drivers handle the crowds, hordes, commotion, and honking as if it was nothing. Once they are able to drive faster than pedestrian speed, they put their foot down and it’s a delight. The old vehicles hop with playful agility over the potholes and the speed bumps and although landing on the other side may not be a treat for the spine, it’s huge fun.

Incidentally, on Sunday I had a very special experience. Before we departed from Belur the bus driver first pulled out his incense sticks, waved them about in his cockpit and then draped them burning in front of his devotionals on the dashboard to ask protection of the gods. A short time later it became clear to me why he did so: the bus was hopelessly overloaded. In the Esslingen district we most certainly would have been stopped by Karsten Bolz’s traffic police. Still, considering the way the bus wildly races over rough and smooth (when it’s not sitting in a traffic jam), this may have its advantages: at least no one can fall over, that’s for certain. And we all arrived back safely, too.