Cock a doodle dooo…the morning in Shirdi dawned as the 2 of us quickly showered, got our “special” darshan pass ready, checked out of the hotel and strode towards the temple. The plan was to 1) pay our obeisance, 2) have a quick bite comprising vada pav, usal pav, 3) down 2 or maybe 3 special masala chais (given my unending love for this brown water thingy), 4) shop for the yummm dudh peda, 5) walk through the by lanes and the small market chaos towards the main road, 6) thumb lift for one of the umpteen Pune bound Volvo busses and 7) reach Meherabad, Ahmadnagar some 95 kms away.
The going was good and we completed the 5th milestone post a little more than a heavy breakfast. The watch claimed the time to be 10:12. Great, I reckoned pretty smug that the going was being perfected to the plan. The sun was up. We were directed to walk down the road to ST (State Transport) bus stand where Volvo busses would pick up travelers. 10:20 the watch showed. Soon it was 10:30 and then 10:47. The sun was beating down on us now while we saw a couple of Maharashtra red busses emerge from the ST stand and go past blowing soft sand into our faces. A few coughs later, we realized about the missing Volvos. Throats parched, we decided to take the next best alternative. We trudged into Maharashtra State bus stand, while one of the busses was just about reversing out of the platform. Phirrrrrrrrrr Phiirrrrrrrr was the shrill noise that fell on our ears. “Kutehe” (Where) shouted the man in Khakis, removing the whistle from his mouth. Nagar, I shouted back over the din. A loud thunk on the bus, stopped it, and we were ushered in. The bus appeared full with many men wearing the whitest of the white shirts and trousers, a cap adorning their heads. The ladies in their cottony dark shades were busy conversing while settling down. A few strange quizzical looks welcomed us. Perhaps, thinking, what this neatly dressed folks are doing in a bus like that !!. Luckily for us there were seats, the last row it was while we sat down on the not so leathery seats, the coconut straws peeking out of the torn seats pinching through the trousers a bit. An Express luxury service the writing on the bus proclaimed that I noticed while clambering on. Alright, I thought, so much for the luxury…let me experience the “Expressness” of the services.
Soon enough, the rattling started. The windows went rattle, rattle, rattle. I was sure that the bus was keeping its “Express” reputation intact and presumed that we were doing 90 kms an hour only to realize a few slower vehicles go past us. I realized that the incessant rattling of the windows added to the notional “speedy” feeling. The flow of air was good, the whiff from the sugarcane fields felt divine. My keen observations into the environs I was in was broken when the conductor came over thrusting his hands shouting “Teeekets”. A 100 Rupee note is what I gave him said “Doan paije, Nagar” recollecting some of my chaste Marathi. “Ankhin Shambhar kada” I was asked with a rather scornful dismissive look. I gave him another 100 and waited. 2 teekets, he thrust into my waiting hands and left. I was expecting some change back, but a quick look into the Marathi numbers on the ticket, left me aghast. Rs. 98 one way !!! My jaw dropped. When did tickets become so expensive, I thought. Highway robbery, I say !!!. I quickly came to and realized how cut off I was from the current times.
80 mins into the journey, we covered a paltry 51 kms distance, when the bus pulled into Rahuri bus station. A glee broke onto our faces. Kheeras, Bhel, parle biskeets, water botttals, time pass moong phallis greeted us. The greedy us bought one of each. A few of the passengers de-boarded while a few walked in. I noticed a burly looking lady walk right upto where I was sitting and said sternly..”Tikde Sarka” (move over) and before I adjusted myself, she plonked herself on my reasonably thin frame. I wailed and let out a soft cry…cursing under my breath while my wifey couldn’t control letting out a grin.
A good peek into a different world it was. We felt pretty good at the end of it, experiencing something different from routine. I still carry the memories of this trip 2 years later. A subtly romantic one I must say…..
The going was good and we completed the 5th milestone post a little more than a heavy breakfast. The watch claimed the time to be 10:12. Great, I reckoned pretty smug that the going was being perfected to the plan. The sun was up. We were directed to walk down the road to ST (State Transport) bus stand where Volvo busses would pick up travelers. 10:20 the watch showed. Soon it was 10:30 and then 10:47. The sun was beating down on us now while we saw a couple of Maharashtra red busses emerge from the ST stand and go past blowing soft sand into our faces. A few coughs later, we realized about the missing Volvos. Throats parched, we decided to take the next best alternative. We trudged into Maharashtra State bus stand, while one of the busses was just about reversing out of the platform. Phirrrrrrrrrr Phiirrrrrrrr was the shrill noise that fell on our ears. “Kutehe” (Where) shouted the man in Khakis, removing the whistle from his mouth. Nagar, I shouted back over the din. A loud thunk on the bus, stopped it, and we were ushered in. The bus appeared full with many men wearing the whitest of the white shirts and trousers, a cap adorning their heads. The ladies in their cottony dark shades were busy conversing while settling down. A few strange quizzical looks welcomed us. Perhaps, thinking, what this neatly dressed folks are doing in a bus like that !!. Luckily for us there were seats, the last row it was while we sat down on the not so leathery seats, the coconut straws peeking out of the torn seats pinching through the trousers a bit. An Express luxury service the writing on the bus proclaimed that I noticed while clambering on. Alright, I thought, so much for the luxury…let me experience the “Expressness” of the services.
Soon enough, the rattling started. The windows went rattle, rattle, rattle. I was sure that the bus was keeping its “Express” reputation intact and presumed that we were doing 90 kms an hour only to realize a few slower vehicles go past us. I realized that the incessant rattling of the windows added to the notional “speedy” feeling. The flow of air was good, the whiff from the sugarcane fields felt divine. My keen observations into the environs I was in was broken when the conductor came over thrusting his hands shouting “Teeekets”. A 100 Rupee note is what I gave him said “Doan paije, Nagar” recollecting some of my chaste Marathi. “Ankhin Shambhar kada” I was asked with a rather scornful dismissive look. I gave him another 100 and waited. 2 teekets, he thrust into my waiting hands and left. I was expecting some change back, but a quick look into the Marathi numbers on the ticket, left me aghast. Rs. 98 one way !!! My jaw dropped. When did tickets become so expensive, I thought. Highway robbery, I say !!!. I quickly came to and realized how cut off I was from the current times.
80 mins into the journey, we covered a paltry 51 kms distance, when the bus pulled into Rahuri bus station. A glee broke onto our faces. Kheeras, Bhel, parle biskeets, water botttals, time pass moong phallis greeted us. The greedy us bought one of each. A few of the passengers de-boarded while a few walked in. I noticed a burly looking lady walk right upto where I was sitting and said sternly..”Tikde Sarka” (move over) and before I adjusted myself, she plonked herself on my reasonably thin frame. I wailed and let out a soft cry…cursing under my breath while my wifey couldn’t control letting out a grin.
A good peek into a different world it was. We felt pretty good at the end of it, experiencing something different from routine. I still carry the memories of this trip 2 years later. A subtly romantic one I must say…..
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