Tracking the journey of the BUS.
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.
The buses that start from Mawlang, Syntung, Nohron, Mawlat, Kharang and Diengling connect a particular set of villages in East Khasi Hills to Shillong. Their routes overlap and diverge after a point.
Unlike the other buses that ply from fertile areas of the East Khasi Hills like Sohra (Cherrapunji), Pynursla or Dawki (which face the Bangladesh plains) or the Ri-Bhoi district, these buses do not carry much agricultural produce to sell at Iewduh. A fact that signifies the low fertility of this area, and that there is, for some villages, not enough produced for it to be sold outside.
However the villages of Nohron, Syntung and Mawlat, due to their proximity to the low, flat terrain of Bangladesh, are suited to grow tympou (betel leaves). Given the large demand of tympou and kwai (areca nut) all over Meghalaya, these villages show signs of relative prosperity compared to their neighbors. The buses from these villages come laden with bamboo baskets, filled with tympou and the promise of a good sale.
For other villages which sell seasonal produce in small quantities, it is for small chores and daily necessities that the journey from the village to the city becomes inevitable. Buying a cough medicine for an ailing child, purchasing bags of cement for a half constructed house, tin sheets for a new village shed, to a pair of new school shoes- the bus fulfills all these needs and much more. And if one wishes to avoid the trip to the city- list out all the items to the driver or manager, hand over the money, wait for the bus to return. The handyman of the bus will tow the goods personally to the owner- no matter how big or small the thing might be.
By afternoon, when it is time to make the return journey, the buses are usually overloaded- a mélange of goods and people interspersed with each other. As it drives out of the city limits, the bus enters the semi-urban township of Smit and then stops a while for new passengers to get on. People wait uncomplainingly as goods are loaded/off- loaded by the manager and the handyman, while the driver, enjoying his scarce moments of respite, ‘oversees’ or simply gets off for small talk with a few regular faces. Ahead of Smit, the bus stops at villages on the way, patiently repeating its well- practiced ritual- loading and unloading of people and goods, even as some passers-by drop in to greet their passenger friends or to deliver some news via a traveller to a particular village.
Not all the villages fall on assigned bus routes. Sometimes, people have to wake up in the wee hours of the morning and walk for hours to make it in time for the bus. During the heavy monsoon, not so firm patches of the road relent to ceaseless showers and cave in. Then the buses do not go all the way back to their original village heads and rest on safer ground, perhaps a neighboring village.
Even though the distance from Shillong to some of these villages is not much, maybe 50-70 km, the bus often takes about 3-4 hours time to cover the route, given the intermittent breaks where it waits for people to get on or for loading, unloading and transfer of goods by the handyman.
The road too, surprisingly smooth in parts, breaks out in long stretches to reveal freshly formed ditches or long ignored wear and tear, slowly gone from bad to worse. At times, the tar gets washed away by incessant rains and makes it difficult for the wheel to get a firm grip on the road. Perhaps that is why the drivers’ peer out of their windows, throwing side-long glances onto the moving wheels while their skilled, practiced hands maneuver the steering wheel. By studying the wheel and gauging its alignment to the road, the drivers steer their way through thick fog or rain, even if visibility is extremely poor. This comes with years of expertise and knowing.