The bus stand presents a very lively and interesting scene. There is always a great hustle and bustle. The hawkers fill the place with their sing song voices selling their goods. There are queues of men, women and children eagerly waiting for the bus. The queues get longer and longer every minute.
The passengers wait patiently and discuss the topics of the day. Some talk of the rising prices of the necessities of life and curse the government for all their ills. Others curse the D.T.C. for its poor and irregular service. Some ladies have babies in their arms and look tired. It is of course very difficult for them to wait for the bus which sometimes takes hours to come. Children become restless and trouble their parents to buy them something. The balloon sellers have a good sale.
The bus stand is a museum of human faces coming from various states of this vast country. They are in their peculiar dresses and speak different dialects. There is the Punjabi with his long shirt and salwar and the man from Uttar Pradesh in his dhoti and kurta. There are ladies from nearby villages in their multi-coloured ghagras and . Young girls in jeans or skirts. The ancient and the modern get mingled.
The scene shifts ail of a sudden with the arrival of the bus. The queue breaks. People rush to take their seats. It is the old and the ladies who suffer the most in this confusion. The strong board the bus while the weak are left behind to wait till the next bus comes and picks them up.
Last Sunday, I went to the bus stand to see off my uncle. There were different bus stands for different routes. Every bus Hand was crowded. We went to the bus stand meant for Route 22. There was a long queue. My uncle stood in the queue. He Bras at the tail end, A bus came. The queue moved. The bus took in a few people and then moved away. My uncle could lot board the bus. He hoped that he would get a seat in the text bus. He was right. The next bus arrived after half an hour. My uncle got the seat and off he went. It was really an ordeal for him to wait so long for his turn.