Struggle
at ST Stand
The triple
alliterative title might suggest something poetic coming up.…Well
you shall be disappointed.
I remember those zillions of occasions, during my extensive travel across the country, when I had the misfortune of having to travel in an ST bus. I cursed at the conditions of busses. I swore never to travel in a ST bus again.
And then PCT happened…
And ST buses were as integral a part of our lives as watching daily soaps is for thousands of women across the country. Neo, the "One" said… the problem is choice. Well for us at PCT the problem was lack of it. The only way to reach the college, located on a piece of illegal (as the rumour goes) land on a god forsaken place geometrically bisecting Borivli and Thane, was to go by an ST.
But we were quick learners. We learnt that in an ST, conducters are called "masters". We learnt that these masters didn't like us PCT people. And we learnt that standing in a queue in the morning to get into the bus was futile. Well just imagine, near about 300 students standing at the ST stand in the morning, waiting for a bus to board. The few civilians who lawfully stood in the line were left shouting their throats hoarse, complaining and abusing as the students swarmed the gates of any bus that was brought in.
We swarmed, and how!! I remember this one occasion when the door of the ST was torn out because of the sheer pressure of the people pushing and shoving trying to get in. Undeterred, without any last rites, the corpse of the door was flung away, and the students continued the ruthless competition of getting in.
Of course the door is not the only way to get in, is it? The drivers entrance too was utilized. As was the emergency "exit" at the back of the bus. Some enterprising students with narrow lateral dimensions would even sneak in through the windows. Resourcefulness, combined with agility, is a daunting ability.
The dysfunctional nature of the ST buses only added to the adventure of the travel. The ST buses used to break down so often, that even Mika Hakinen (aah my poor spelling skills...) would have found his car's efficiency heavenly. And when you get stranded on an highway, the only saviour is a kind master of another ST bus who will stop and rescue the passengers. Bus breaking down was a not so dangerous hazard in the ST. There was this one occasion when a driver made a sharp turn at maximum speed, and a poor guy, standing at the door got thrown out of the door of the speeding bus. Reason? The door cracked open under the centrifugal force as the bus turned. I stared with horrified eyes as the poor guy made a zero point landing flat on his back.
The verbal bouts between the students and the master were legendary. Some master would say the pass will not do and tickets need to be purchased, and students, more often than not ganged up and said, no we won't pay for the tickets. It followed the same pattern every time. Mostly, the master had to relent. The ST pass was another big headache. The logistical issues in getting a pass were so cumbersome that I, and Pratik, didn't even get a pass in the first year. In the first year, we had to go all the way to Thane to get a pass. That was just too much effort for me. And some extra bucks was a just price for avoiding the trouble of going to Thane. Thankfully, from the second year on, the pass could be got at Borivli. But the logistical issues remained. Apply in college, Get a form, get the form signed in college. And GOD Almighty, knows, getting documents signed at PCT happens in a time zone where time moves extremely slowly at the other side of the desk. That can be resolved by slipping a ten rupee note to the Chacha… an art mastered by Sagar.
Well, I guess the ST bus journey made the PCT experience all the more memorable. And truly speaking, it was a lot better than the train journeys to get through Mumbai. Boy, oh Boy, people go like animals in trains. At least in ST, if lucky, you get to travel with real animals. Like goats. Or fishes…
I remember those zillions of occasions, during my extensive travel across the country, when I had the misfortune of having to travel in an ST bus. I cursed at the conditions of busses. I swore never to travel in a ST bus again.
And then PCT happened…
And ST buses were as integral a part of our lives as watching daily soaps is for thousands of women across the country. Neo, the "One" said… the problem is choice. Well for us at PCT the problem was lack of it. The only way to reach the college, located on a piece of illegal (as the rumour goes) land on a god forsaken place geometrically bisecting Borivli and Thane, was to go by an ST.
But we were quick learners. We learnt that in an ST, conducters are called "masters". We learnt that these masters didn't like us PCT people. And we learnt that standing in a queue in the morning to get into the bus was futile. Well just imagine, near about 300 students standing at the ST stand in the morning, waiting for a bus to board. The few civilians who lawfully stood in the line were left shouting their throats hoarse, complaining and abusing as the students swarmed the gates of any bus that was brought in.
We swarmed, and how!! I remember this one occasion when the door of the ST was torn out because of the sheer pressure of the people pushing and shoving trying to get in. Undeterred, without any last rites, the corpse of the door was flung away, and the students continued the ruthless competition of getting in.
Of course the door is not the only way to get in, is it? The drivers entrance too was utilized. As was the emergency "exit" at the back of the bus. Some enterprising students with narrow lateral dimensions would even sneak in through the windows. Resourcefulness, combined with agility, is a daunting ability.
The dysfunctional nature of the ST buses only added to the adventure of the travel. The ST buses used to break down so often, that even Mika Hakinen (aah my poor spelling skills...) would have found his car's efficiency heavenly. And when you get stranded on an highway, the only saviour is a kind master of another ST bus who will stop and rescue the passengers. Bus breaking down was a not so dangerous hazard in the ST. There was this one occasion when a driver made a sharp turn at maximum speed, and a poor guy, standing at the door got thrown out of the door of the speeding bus. Reason? The door cracked open under the centrifugal force as the bus turned. I stared with horrified eyes as the poor guy made a zero point landing flat on his back.
The verbal bouts between the students and the master were legendary. Some master would say the pass will not do and tickets need to be purchased, and students, more often than not ganged up and said, no we won't pay for the tickets. It followed the same pattern every time. Mostly, the master had to relent. The ST pass was another big headache. The logistical issues in getting a pass were so cumbersome that I, and Pratik, didn't even get a pass in the first year. In the first year, we had to go all the way to Thane to get a pass. That was just too much effort for me. And some extra bucks was a just price for avoiding the trouble of going to Thane. Thankfully, from the second year on, the pass could be got at Borivli. But the logistical issues remained. Apply in college, Get a form, get the form signed in college. And GOD Almighty, knows, getting documents signed at PCT happens in a time zone where time moves extremely slowly at the other side of the desk. That can be resolved by slipping a ten rupee note to the Chacha… an art mastered by Sagar.
Well, I guess the ST bus journey made the PCT experience all the more memorable. And truly speaking, it was a lot better than the train journeys to get through Mumbai. Boy, oh Boy, people go like animals in trains. At least in ST, if lucky, you get to travel with real animals. Like goats. Or fishes…