Primarily, because I’m bored.
On a second thought, I should have said something earlier. I mean four years of experience in travelling by these intercity buses, so many stories.
I like watching random people talking to even more random people, I like gauging their stories by the way they haggle with the bus conductor, the way a mother slaps her wailing child, what do they say to stop the bus to take a piss in bushes. This is Pakistan and travelling with a bunch of strangers in one hell of an experience per se.
I leave Karachi 9ish a.m. It would take 4 hours to reach the place I’m in love/hate relationship with. It’s like an arranged marriage, I expected better… It delivered wayy too less.
They have made me take this so-called VIP seat as I’m the only ‘one ladies’ in the bus. This is what you need to know; if you respect a lady, you must call them ‘ladies’, it doesn’t hint that you could be gravid with another baby girl… it’s just Bus Conductor Manners 101. I’m not even making fun of them as I type this out. Professors at my University have this really amazing tendency to call ‘they’ as substitute for Urdu pronoun ‘Aap’ . We’ve seen as much in these four years that we’re immune to all kind of surprises.
The saying goes: ‘ Travel is meant to broaden the mind and loosen the bowel’. We beg to differ. Four hours and we have tamed the anal sphincters and them urethras. This is however, not true for the male passengers. I have always heard and believed that men can control their urge to urinate more impressively than females due to longer size of urethra but here’s another myth buster: They can’t!
Science doesn’t argue with men who need to take a piss or dump every hour. No wonder there’s so much greenery on both sides of super highway.
I’m no feminist nonetheless. Frankly, I don’t mind any excuse for the bus to be stopped.
We stretch our legs and grab a cup of tea from roadside cafés. They’re there like mushrooms sprouting after every five miles or so.
This tea is the reason I’ve still some hope in fellow Pakistanis. We can even export that frigging awesome tea.
We get on the bus again and I can see the fellow travellers more clearly.
Right now I’m distracted by this ‘dil mera tour dia us ne bura kiun maanoon.’ Bus drivers are obsessed with Karishma and Boby Deol. They just don’t want to move on. At times they also play movies. My bollywood experience is mainly limited to these movies. Dabang, Rowdy rathore, Chupke Chupke, Nayak, Bol Bacchan etc. I watched these in bus only.
Sometimes they also play some really PG 18 stuff. I’m just surprised why families don’t object to that. I mean, who could be fan of watching mujras with dozens of strangers. It’s like sitting in Nishaat Cinema, Saddar. (I made this analogy up, stop making this judgey face… You ass)
‘Humsafar chahiye, Umar bhar chahiye; This is being played right now and I’m hungry.
Songs make me hungry.
These important people I can never travel without are… Driver and conductors. They are good people, like really good people. You’re offered tea, Pepsi and even Poly Juices if you’re stupid enough to cry all the way back to Karachi after giving a dumbass viva.
Once a girl vomitted in my lap but other than this it’s good altogether. So extensive that I can’t stuff it in one blogpost.
I like travelling only because it breaks stereotypes. It bursts biases. I like talking to strangers.This family sitting right next to me are Sindhi people. They talk in amiable high pitched tones. Their kids look lovely in ajrak patterned frocks.
That woman sitting with a child asleep over her hand bag is Punjabi because I eavesdropped snippets of Punjabi.
That guy who sells tea is a Hazara. People who run those highway side cafes, they’re mostly Pathans.
They are all beautiful people.They smile at you, I always return the smiles unless you’re a really sleazy person.
All these years have drained me out of respect for all those who stereotype people. How difficult is it to love people regardless of their creed or race, I ask?
These people don’t hurt anyone, they won’t judge you on the basis of which city you belong, which accent you sport. These are the people who make 80 % of this country’s population and you guys who don’t go places, just sit on your bum stereotyping and shitting, who are you people seriously?
P.S. This blogpost was written in episodes, the incoherence which might be habitual otherwise is more pungent here, I can almost taste it.