First Bus Ride in India

In my first three visits to India and 11 months total in India, I used or rode in nearly every type of transportation you can imagine: planes, trains, taxis, private cars, autorickshaws, bicycle rickshaws, motorcycles, elephants, and even camels. It wasn’t until the very end of my third journey that I first stepped foot on a bus.

To be fair, before my first trip, I had promised my brother, a man whose idea of adventure vacation was hitting the bars in Cancun, that I wouldn’t get on a train in India. He was reading about the worst things that could happen around the globe, and bus accidents in India were a major part of the list.

On my first trip to India, I travelled from Dharamsala, in the north, to Kanyakumari, at the southernmost tip of the country, where the three oceans meet. I never took a single bus. By my third trip, buses were no longer on the itinerary.

One day, I found myself in Pushkar. Pushkar is like that. It attracts people, people who want to relax and enjoy the “vibes”, as they’re known in this region of the world. I spent nine days on the rooftop terrace of the Seventh Heaven Inn, taking in the vibes. I also met other women travellers who arrived and left the hotel by public buses.

I looked into the possibilities when it was my turn. I only had to travel 100 km to Roopanghar in central Rajasthan, another small village. It was finally time for me to leap. I thought the statute of limitations on my promise to my brother had passed. The trip took only two hours and was on flat desert terrain. What could be worse?

I took a taxi to Ajmer, did my bus ticket booking and only waited 15 minutes for it to load. Two assertive Indian women pushed me from behind as I struggled with my bag, purse, and camera bag to load onto the bus. After I had stuffed my bag, I was able to find a seat. There wasn’t much room left for anyone else. The bus then filled up, and I was crammed with two children and an older brother and younger sister, who were sitting practically on my lap.

It was very exciting for the first hour. The women were smiling and speaking to me in a foreign language. The girl was trying to get closer to me, and the bus heated up under the midday sun. The young girl gave me a piece of candy just as I was about to give up.

They were people who had little or no hope of ever being wealthy. As I ate the candy, I felt a bittersweet tug as I reacted to her generosity. She gave me another a little while later.

She was delighted when I handed her the little beaded bag that I had bought in Rishikesh. She handed it to both her grandmother and mother, who inspected it and gave it their approval. They smiled warmly at me and hugged the little girl. I was amazed by her beauty. She had large eyes, delicate features, and long, fawn-like limbs.

I looked out the window and saw the desert, baking in the sun. Mud huts were scattered around, and women were carrying huge bundles of branches and twigs on their heads, or almost equally large jugs filled with water. As I realized why I avoided the bus, my eyes filled up with tears.