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J.S TRAVELS
SHILLONG -MAWLANG – MAWJATAP- NOHRON
ML 05 B 6055

…….the engine warms up slowly with slight, consistent acceleration and the horn blows- Teet Teet, tearing through the silent hours of the morning. Its 4.30 a.m and only a few can be seen, walking towards the greens to perform ablutions. Mawlang rests peacefully for it knows that the bus will return after collecting passengers from Mawjatap. By 6 a.m. So there is still time.

Paiyyu(meaning “Brother” in Jaintia, since he hails from there), the driver, steers the bus through a jumpy, kutcha road (as the windows rattle and puddles splash) and announces with aplomb- a loud Teet Teet, twice over, his arrival at Mawjatap. He swerves the big green striped body of the bus- back and forth, reading the road back and front and when satisfied, parks it- a general invitation to passengers to board on.

Steps down then, enters a small tea shop, preparing for the long hours ahead.

After an hour, the bus becomes fat- with mothers and their little ones tied securely to their backs, a village headman from neighbouring Siangkhnai (a fifteen minute walk away from this bus point), a young college girl returning to Shillong after the weekend from Nonghulew (who has walked for an hour and half to catch the bus), the young and the old enter and slowly fill up the empty bus.

packets dangle from the iron lattice that divides the bus in between and things squeezed on the small top compartment chatter when they hit against each other as the bus rolls out, leaving a big huff of dust clouds

Mawjatap, Mawlang, Umsawar, Pashang…..and many a rattle later…..the bus, as if swelled up with pride at its generosity, rumbles on

things get piled up on its wooden floor, seats dismantled to stuff load within extra seating, planks joined to provide for additional space, faces next to faces, about seven in a row, covering the aisle and all, rows after rows, looking ahead

from the top, feet dangling down, perched on goods sometimes, hands grabbing on tightly against the notoriously wild rhythm of the bus as it leaps over bad patches of road.

Fattened thus- with friends and relatives, with goods to sell and buy, with the clamour of voices-

With things to do, the Bus makes its journey to the city.

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