Baldy's Comb: Experience #2 - The Bus Ride

Part II - Roberta

‘Could you tell me when the next bus to Pushkar is’

I turned around and saw the female who was sitting all alone all this while. About 5”6’ tall, dark hair, athletic built, proper American accent and a backpack almost her own size – that was Roberta (as I’d learn later).

Me:’Umm…am really not sure…let’s get down and I’ll find out for you’

Roberta:’Ohh you would…ohh that’s soo sweet of you’

And then she did it…she brought together both her hands and started ’Namaste’ing me.

‘Thank you soo much..it’ll be a great favour’

Ohhk woman…stop…stop it right there. I am no backward, illiterate, ultra-religious Indian. Do not ‘Namaste’ me. I have yet not been able to fathom WHY I felt so strongly about what she did. It almost felt as if she was mocking my entire existence - mocking my education, mocking my fluency at speaking her language, mocking the hours I’d spent at Barista sipping Cappuccino, mocking the nights I’d slept listening to Floyd, mocking the ‘wassup’s’ I’ve used to greet my friends, mocking my 234 strong friend list on facebook - just mocking everything. In that one moment I wanted to shout out and tell her so many things – I wanted her to know that I hang out at pubs on Saturday nights and in café’s on others, that just like her I am not one to make ethical and religious issues out of short skirts, kissing in public and one night stands, that I have a hep friend circle that dopes, smokes pot and sleeps with multiple partners, that even I shop at malls and screw up my credit card limits, that I also watch friends, that even I use ‘fuck’, ‘whatever, and the middle finger when am at a loss of words (I was at a loss of words when this entire scene did happen…it was only later that I reflected on what made me mad…but at that time…I was just mad!!), that I write a freaking blog!– I don’t know why I wanted her to know all of this but I’ve narrowed down to two options.

1)It was either out of my sheer anger at her holding such a stereotypical view of all Indians…and daring to ‘Namaste’ me and saying thank you…how could she presume about me without even knowing who I am (that fact that she might have just been told by someone that this is what you do in India is something that didn’t seem like a possibility worth considering until wayyy after)

Or

2) I, just like a lot of Indians, wanted to prove myself to this westerner…this human being who is universally accepted to be ahead of and better than me because she comes from a more prosperous nation

Yup…you got it…it was not an either or…it was a combo of both these reasons.

Anyways, so I told her that it was ok and we stepped off the bus. By now I (and obviously she) was the center of attention. And as expected, as soon as we stepped off the bus -

‘Madam…Madam…pushkar madam…nice AC car…200 only madam…200 only for you madam..’ (these offers were interspersed with subdued cries of ‘kya maal hai’, ‘aaja meri gaadi main baith ja’ and ‘full service madam ji’)

Well this was precisely the reason I had offered to find her a bus to Pushkar. At 11 in the night…trying to find transportation to pushkar…alone…a westerner…NOT a good idea. In that respect, Rajasthan roadways was a much much safer (and cheaper) option

Me:’Nai chahiye bhai…koi gadi nai chahiye’

After repeating the same for 5 minutes, I was able to ward off all evil, but not without sly remarks about how I was trying to act smart with the ‘Angrez’ and screwing their potential earnings in the process (actually it was said with much brevity in Hindi – ‘akele hi lega ya humen bhi kamane dega’).

Apparently the next bus to pushkar was due to arrive in 10 mins. Hmm…so we need to make small talk now….ok

Me:’Hey, the bus is coming in another 10 mins. So I guess you’ve got to bear me a bit longer’

Roberta:’Ohh you don’t need to stay … you already have done soo much for me…I really can’t ask for more…pls don’t le t me keep you’ (btw…from now on assume that whenever she had to thank me…her Namaste pose – with proper head bent down n all han – was a continuous accompaniment)

Me:’No really…its ok … I don’t have much to do…and this isn’t a very safe hour to be at a bus stand. Not to mention that the time estimates given in India rarely hold so you will constantly need to recheck on the time of arrival and where the bus shall be parked’

Roberta (more vigorous Namaste and a pained/ indebted face): ‘ ohh how can I thank you…’

Me (you could start by not thanking me): ‘Well…so…tell me about your trip to India… Where all have you been…how long is the trip’

Roberta: ‘ Well the trip has just started…just spent a week in Rajasthan and Delhi…plan to go east and then south after this. I am here on a 75 day vacation’

WHAT!! Are you even allowed to use ’75 days’ and ‘vacation’ in the same sentence!!

Me:’75 days!! What do you do for a living…how did you manage to get such a long leave’

Roberta: ‘Well I used to work for this publishing house for 3.5 years…then due to the global recession…I got laid off…so I thought I have my savings…I should use them…and here I am!’

Ok..this conversation isn’t making any sense to me…are we from the same planet…is the end near…did she just say she got laid off and she used her savings to go on a 75 day India trip!!!!! I mean, tell me frankly, what would you have done? I would have: Taken the pink slip à gone to my atm and checked my bank balance à gone home and started working on my CV à cut down on petrol, movies and a few meals to ensure my savings last. My head drifted back to Mr. Anthropologist in the bus and how he would’ve evaluated this contrast in reactions…while Roberta continued speaking

‘ I had always heard about India from my father who had been in the Italian Embassy here and I soo wanted to visit…and I knew that in a job I would never get such a long vacation…so I took the chance’

Hold on…did she just say Italy

Me:’ Which country are you from again?’

Roberta:’ Italy’

Me:’ Wow…you have a perfect American accent’

Roberta:’Yea…I’ve lived in New York for 7 years’

Me:’Hmmm..no wonder…umm…am sorry…don’t think I caught your name’

Roberta:’Roberta’

Me: ‘So Roberta – you are on a 75 day trip to India…ALONE! – WOW’

I suddenly looked around us…and there were like 20 people gathered all around…staring us down. Typical Indians…huh

Me:’Hey…if you aren’t already…then get used to this…you will be flocked everywhere you go. I on the other hand…am new to this attention…’

Roberta:’Yea…I’ve noticed this…but why’

Me:’Maybe you are too good looking (yea I know…lame attempt)..maybe us Indian men are too desperate, maybe it’s reverse apartheid and they want you to be the brown man’s burden (I think this bounced over her head – and thank god for that)’

Roberta (having heard only the ‘desperate Indian men’ part):’ Yea…I know…this driver I had in Jaipur…the guy who took me around the city for 2 days…I think was a gigolo’

Ok that’s it…where is the Mars rover hiding...i mean… everytime we start having a decent conversation on similar planes of existence…she shoots off to another dimension and says something absolutely unfathomable…I mean …how on earth do you – ‘THINK someone is a gigolo’ – isn’t it an extremely rare profession which has a very clear and objective way of being identified!!

Me:’How the hell did you ‘think’ he was a gigolo’

Roberta:’Well…all the time he drove me around…every half an hour…he would keep asking me – “will we go back in the evening to your room and have sex” ‘

Houston we a ready for take off…please please call us back to mother earth!

Me:’WHAT!’ (you really expected me to say something intelligent)

Roberta: ‘Yea…n I kept telling him that noo…I am not here for that…I am here to see the country…but he just wouldn’t listen’

I really wanted to ask her…did she never consider LEAVING THE CAB and finding another one…did she never feel UNSAFE in this guy’s company… but apparently she didn’t….infact - turns out that she was trying her hand at understanding the guys psychology while he made his sexual expectations clear to her

Roberta:’I guess he must’ve met other westerners who come here just for that…he must’ve seen then get sloshed and then sleep around..that’s why he kept asking’

Roberta…darling…there are times when you don’t try and figure out why the gun is being pointed at you…you just run

Me:’Ohh gawd…he actually…he said…ohh shit man…how could you…didn’t you’ (I think I was able to beautifully and concisely capture the emotions and feelings I’ve expressed in the paragraph above)

Me:’Ohhk…that is freaky…I would’ve freaked out had I been in your place…btw…freaky reminds me…what brings you to Pushkar…and why can’t you spend the night in Ajmer and travel in the morning. Such urgency to get sloshed han’

Roberta (smiling):’No I don’t drink…I really like to keep fit…even while travelling…I just go to a city and walk…that’s it…no guide no nothing..,just start at 6am and walk’

Wow…just wow….I’d give an arm (I wanted to say an arm and a leg – but you shall soon realise why I couldn’t) to do that…go to a new place…with nothing to go back to…and walk!

Roberta: ’And I’ve given my word to someone in Pushkar and I want to keep it by getting there tonight…’

And another 10 people have started watching the show

Roberta: ‘I don’t understand…why do they keep looking…Indian women are soo beautiful’

Me:’Yea but they aren’t hot (another lame attempt I know…but the truth)’

Roberta:’I dunno…they have such good features…such amazing faces…every other one can be a celebrity back in hollywood’

Well I didn’t expect to get into an intellectual discussion on how beautiful, cute, pretty and hot are all different things…so I just nodded and agreed.

This entire conversation was, btw, interspersed with me checking for the bus and she checking if I wasn’t getting late and ‘Namaste’ing more vigorously with every negative reply from my end. So finally, at this juncture, the bus arrived and we started saying our goodbyes

Me:’I guess this is it…have an amazing journey…n keep safe’

Roberta (worshipping me like a God):’Thank you soooo much…I dunno how I can thank you…I would’ve been lost if not for you…you are my angel…I will PRAY FOR YOU TO RAMA’

Now you’ve done it

Me:’Umm..i don’t really believe in Rama’

Roberta:’Well then Ganesha’

Me:’Lets just say that I do not subscribe to the concept of a God’

Roberta:’Really…not even one’

Me:’Nop’

Roberta:’Well yeah…I understand…when I see a lot of misery and hurt and suffering around me…even I lose faith sometimes…but it is so comforting and so calming to pray in a temple or a church and just be at peace’

Well by then the bus had started to move….so we quickly shook hands…said our final goodbyes…I helped her board…and off she went…

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PS: - Nop…I didn’t ask for her number or email Id…you don’t feel the need to do that stuff when you’re in love

Baldy's Comb: Experience #2 - The Bus Ride

Part 1 – Of Anthropology and Anthropologists

The scene…its 10 in the night…I am dead tired and waiting at the Kishangarh Bus stand for a bus to Ajmer…my salesmen Miyalaram and Hanuman are standing beside me…

Me:’yaar melaraam (that’s what everyone calls him…regardless of what his actual name is)…ye Kishangarh se Ajmer ki busses ke do alag rate kyun hote hain…koi Rs14 main le jaati hai toh koi Rs17 main?’

Miyalaraam:’who sirji jo Ajmer depot ki local gadi hai…jo sirf Ajmer-Kishangarh chalti hai…who 14 leti hai…but jo Jaipur depot ki gadi hai…who Rs.17 leti hai’

At this point you should know that Kishangarh falls on route from Jaipur to Ajmer…you should also know that I didn’t know it then…so I just nodded my head with my special, erudite – ‘Ahhh…I see I see’ look on my face…and Miyalaraam bought it!! Another potential threat to my vanity avoided…haha!!

So a bus arrives…I wave goodbye to my salesmen…with the usual joke about how I will stay up all night devising ways to increase their targets and make their lives miserable (actually…somehow I didn’t think they’d appreciate the joke…so I normally kept this parting joke to myself)…and I stepped onto the bus…

The scene…I walk up into the bus…and like any normal Indian…immediately notice that at the far end of the bus…3 foreigners are seated!! Now going by my amazing track record…I will surely find a seat much before I reach the end…and this trip shall pass without event!! But the Indian mind isn’t this simple minded…esp. the Indian male’s mind. Within fractions of a second I have run a 1000 P&C’s that will lead to an interesting conversation between me and the 3 white people (ohh…am sure you’ve been wondering…so I’ll answer…2 girls and one guy) and how somehow the guy will only turnout to be a brother…or maybe just an extremely white Indian…who knows…

Well…while I was still lost, thinking about that one possible scenario where the hotter of the 2 girls had noticed the HUL sign on my bag and was now excitedly telling me how she knew all about the BLT program (you know…maybe she had a chat friend in India who was in a B-school and he told her about how awesome HUL and its BLT program were…its completely possible!!)…and how she thought that I must be really smart to have gotten into it…back in the real world…I had walked the entire length of the bus realising that no seat was available!

Ok…it is important now to understand how these 3 ‘firangs’ were seated. One girl and the guy were seated at the last seat…the one that is a long continuous seat extending from end to end. The girl was sitting at the window and the guy right beside her…she was asleep. The other girl was sitting at the window seat right in front of this girl.

Now, as luck would have it…there were just 2 seats vacant…one was beside the girl sitting alone…but she had kept her huge backpack there…and the other was bang in the middle of the last long seat…right next to the guy. With absolutely no bias towards either seat…I asked the hot girl sitting alone if I could sit next to her…

Now, as all those guys who have been in similar situations would agree…when you are about to utter the first few words to a hot angrez, you wanna make sure they come out right…that they are the perfect words…being verbose will just expose your desperateness…be too terse and you might stand embarrassed as she’ll have to ask your pardon…giving you one of those ‘what did u say u Indian guy’ looks which you so dread….be too loud and you’ll get that same look…be too low key and she won’t hear you and everyone else around will smirk…add to all this the fact that everyone else in the vicinity is looking at her…and with you making it obvious that you are gonna talk to her…they are now looking at you too…it just makes it really tough to ask whether the seat next to her is empty…

But hey…its not over yet…once you’ve tuned your vocal chords to the right decibel level…the freakin bitch called ‘options’ confronts you! Would saying ‘Can I sit here’ be the politest way to ask…or would it just seem to her as if you are quizzing her about your ability to sit at the seat! If you ask ‘Is the seat next to you empty’ – she might just say yes and turn around…without removing the backpack…what then! Then again..you can just push in and expect her to understand and remove the backpack…but she might be American for all you know…in which case she wouldn’t understand and you shall be caught in an awkward situation!

Well, to put things into perspective, all these calculations happened in just a split second… and I finally asked…’Is it ok if I sit here?’. Well…she turned and responded saying yes…which culled my biggest fear – ‘what if she didn’t know English at all!!’ But then she began her attempt at removing the huge backpack from the seat and I realised that there were atleast 2 dead bodies in it…and disturbing them in their peaceful slumber was not the kind of thing I’d want on my record…so I politely told her it was ok…and I sat down next to the white guy (told you there was no bias). The girl did try and tell me it was ok…that she will manage…but I guess deep down inside I am a true Indian boy…and so there was only so far I was gonna push my luck at saying the right words to a female foreigner in front of a bus full of prying eyes…so I chose to pass!

So the bus ride began…there was the usual awkward silence around me…where all the Indians sitting within hearing distance of the white people will stay absolutely shut…as if they are all relatives of the national security advisor and anything they utter can be a potential danger to national security…while their ears were completely tuned in to every word that the white people spoke…desperately attempting to gather bits and pieces of their conversation and make a mental map of their lives…how they were related…was she his wife or girlfriend or just friend or sister…were they English or American or from the rest of the white world (those are the only 3 classifications we are capable of making). This continued for 5 mins…until the guy (hereafter referred to as WG)broke the silence and asked –

WG (with a lot of effort to overcome his European accent):’ So you live in Ajmer’

Me:’No actually…I’m just working in Ajmer for a few weeks. So where are you guys from and what are you doing in India’ (there you go Mr. curious little Indian)

WG(heavy accent):’Ohh weee are phrom Belgiuum. We on vacashion in India’

Further probing on my part revealed that he was travelling with the girl next to him and they were not with the girl sitting in front (I know its an obvious conclusion…but she was alone!...and no…I didn’t dare ask how these 2 were related to each other)

WG:’So where do you work…whats your job?’

Me (curbing my instinct to explain about BLT and HUL to him):’I’m into sales…working for Unilever…you may not have heard of it…what about you…what do you do?’

WG:’ Well I’m an anthropologist’

Here we go with the special, erudite ‘ohh I see I see’ look again…twice in less than 15 mins!! Well in my defence…I did have a faint idea that anthropology had something to do with studying humans…but that seemed extremely vague and broad a definition for a specific field. It was only later that I realised that it was actually just that!! Btw, I narrated this incident to 3 more people…and I can bet that atleast 2 of them gave me their own version of the special, erudite ‘ohh I see I see’ look in response…while the 3^rd one just laughed a silly laugh…realised that it was a lame attempt…and asked what it meant.

Anyways, with the knowledge that WG was a researcher …that anthropology was a science that need him to research people…I confidently asked the next question that would cement the authenticity of my special, erudite look.

Me:’So is this an educational, work related trip…or is it a pure vacation’ (haha…nailed it)

WG:’Well…it is vacation…but you really can’t stop mind from looking at it with academic angle. You see people…you try and understand why they do what they do’

That’s all he needed to say…and suddenly…I was aware and conscious of every moving muscle in my body. What are my hands doing…why am I moving my feet…Is this guy making an opinion about Indians with our interaction as his data…am I a guinea pig…a lab rat…why does he have that sly smile on his face…does he know what I am thinkning…

Me:’hmmm…must be interesting…what interests me is why you chose to do research when you have a masters degree…any Indian with that degree would look for a fat paycheck!’

WG:’Well…in Belgium…higher education is very expensive…and unlike India…we don’t have too many jobs….so we go in for research’

WHAT!! Ever heard of PPP…higher education in India aint too cheap either…and whats that about India having lots of jobs…your country has an unemployment rate of 7.5…ours the figure is 10.1. Surely, given our population, the absolute number of jobs would be more…but whatever gave you the idea that per capita we have more opportunity!! I was seriously shocked at his comment!!

Me(extremely tired but still making an attempt to make him understand):’ In india…a guy with masters will look for a job…because in all probability..his folks spent half their live’s earnings…and killed almost all their own desires…to afford his/her education. The only option, thus, is to now earn and bring a larger sum of money, comforts and satisfaction back in his household. It’s not really because we have more jobs… (how could he make it sound so easy for us!!)’

WG(with a look that said ‘I’m no longer interested in your opinion’): Maybe…so what all is there to see in Ajmer’

Well, so much for being an anthropologist…but whatever…as a courteous Indian…I went on to tell him about Ajmer’s attractions. I also gathered that they were on a 5 week long trip, of which 3 days had already been spent in Jaipur…and as usual…I wondered whether I’ll ever take a month off from work and go explore some exotic foreign land. I sometimes try and imagine what feelings a trip to India would have evoked in me…had I been a westerner. There really isn’t any other country in the world that has so many misconceptions about it…so much mysticism surrounding it…so many tales…so many epics...But being Indians we’ll never get to experience that rush of travelling to the land of elephants and snake charmers. Neither will we ever be able to appreciate Indian women as much as we appreciate firangs…but that’s a separate issue.

As I was lost in this deep thought…the bus came to a halt and the sudden commotion made me realise that till now almost everyone in the bus had been extremely silent and were glued in to every word I and WG exchanged…..and they were now giving me a look that was a mixture of 3 looks in varying degree:

1) The guys were giving me the ‘ghani angrezi main chapar chapar kar riya se’ look

2) The females were giving me the ‘dikhta toh Hindustani hai par chokhi angrezi bol lewe hai’ look

3) And the uncles were giving me the’ humari bhi baat karwa do’ look

Suddenly, feeling alienated amongst my own people, I starting saying goodbyes to the WG, and the girl by his side-who had just woken up. As we lugged our stuff and started walking towards the front door…I heard a distinctly American…distinctly female voice call out from behind me..

‘Excuse me…’

I turned around - could it be her??…I had forgotten about her presence completely…

‘Could you tell me when the next bus to Pushkar is’

Ahh Miyalaraam…I finally understand why this bus costs Rs 17 and not 14…

To be continued……..