Behind Everyday Faces

When I was working back in 2015-2020, the company cab would pick me up at 7.30 in the morning. It would go ambling along collecting two more people and three of us would somewhat sleepily ride to work. I loved working in the early shift, it was quiet, I would be the first on to switch on the lights for my row of cubicles, I would fill up my water bottle from the cafeteria, while the news channel hummed in the background and then look out of the glass window at the world in front of me, the sun rays gently hitting my face. By the time majority of my co-workers trickled in at 11.00, I was already through the considerable portion of my work pie.

When I look back, I know that the cab was a privilege in a city like Bangalore with not the most sophisticated public transport system. In fact, it has been punishing with respect to the traffic and deadlocks created by the construction of the new metro system. Due to this, I hated the days I missed my morning cab, it would then mean that I had to ride the bus at 9.30 and reach work by 11.00. Don’t get me wrong, I come from a family where I was always taught to use the public transport, never waste food, judiciously spend money, and think twice before making purchase. In fact, my father still says that though travelling in Mumbai locals is tough, it changes you and teaches you in not so subtle ways. In my case though, I had an option and I messed up.

So, on the said day, I waited at the bus stop, being the morning rush hour there were a bunch of people waiting with me. All of us were hoping for a slightly empty bus, generally they were jam packed with no standing room for an extra person, yet like Moses parted the Red Sea, the conductor would say ‘Swalpa adjust madi’ and magically create some more standing room. Not looking forward to the uncomfortable journey, I plugged in my earphones and looked at the sea of cars in front of me. Traffic makes me more nihilistic than usual, music distracts me from questioning everything!

I see a bus that is fairly empty compared to the normal standards, heaving a sigh of relief I get right in and stand against one of the seats, my back supported. The conductor makes his way swishing sideways amidst the ladies keeping a respectful distance, as the norm goes in India the ladies seats are at the front. The conductor has a handlebar mustache and crimson tikka, I give him the exact change that I had sorted beforehand and he looks visibly elated. They have a tough time with people handing them notes of 100 early in the morning. I can imagine that it could be a frustrating job, travelling through the same traffic ridden routes, crowded buses, moving through the stream of people and issuing tickets, day in and day out.

As people left the bus for their stops, I happened to notice that there was a whiteboard on the partition behind the driver’s seat. There was poem written in English and Kannada, it cheered me up so I took a picture.

While I was taking the picture, the conductor looked surprised and happy. I asked him if he had written it, and he said he does that everyday. A lot of things he writes are his own. I remarked that this is the first bus with a white board and it turns out that he got it fixed himself. He then proceeded to show me the pieces he had written in the past week, he told me that he had a degree in English Literature. His name was Mahesh Babu (Like the actor? I asked and he blushed) and he was happy to pour his creativity out in the world, even if no one noticed. As my destination arrived, I asked for his picture and he obliged.

I realize that there are stories behind every day faces, stories that inspire and warm the heart from inside out. No matter the age, a little appreciation goes a long way. After that day, whenever I set foot in a bus, I look for the whiteboard and a familiar face handing tickets while building poetry in his head.