Kamlas India

Growing up in Madras, (I have a hard time calling it Chennai...I grew up in "Madras, Nalla Madras" as MGR or vadiyar would sing in his movies) we used the trusty Pallavan Transport (the Madras equivalent of BEST) to ferry us across town. It was not until high school or Plus Two that I got to use this well-run bus system. But not using the bus system did not preclude me from listening to my classmates interesting bus journeys when they took the bus back and forth from the school.

In a vicarious way I got to know the various routes, the bus driver and the conductors, and had already created little mental maps of each character. Years later these mental constructs helped me identify the various characters when I started using the bus system. That is when these characters morphed into real people. With his brown leather bag tucked under their arm-pit, the conductor would jauntily stand on the top step of the bus, and check to see if the commuters had their passes, and would go down the aisle to help people buy their tickets. (New Delhi is the exact opposite. The conductor sits at his appointed seat and refuses to budge. Since the aisles were very narrow in New Delhi buses, often people were unable to buy their tickets, and get a free ride! You could spot the newbie on the bus by their bewildered expressions when they got pushed around by people.)

I digressed. Back to the Pallavan transportation. Bus number 10 had a driver who spoke "Sen Thamizh," or pure Tamil and would quote couplets from Tiruvalluvar. I believe ths was the bus where the conductor would not let you board unless you wore footwear. “Kal anni yenggai?” (Where is your footwear he would question). Bus number 9's conductor was a kind and gentle person, who always stopped the bus for his passengers. You always got a seat on this bus. Bus Number 42 had a grumpy conductor, who always screamed at people. But it was bus number 25c that fascinated me the most. This was the bus route that held the most interesting stories for me. There were a bunch of girls who used the bus, and would always talk about their bus conductor, and the rest of us would listen with rapt attention. These stories were recounted during our hour-long lunch breaks.

Bus number 25c ran on Kodambakkam and Nugumbakkam High Road (actually this used to be a narrow 2-lane road, and not a highway by any stretch of imagination). And the conductor of this particular bus was a carbon copy (or attai copy as they say in Tamil) of Superstar Rajnikanth, fondly referred to as "Rajni," by his fans. This guy sported the same haircut and moustache, and delivered dialogues just like him. Now, this was the height of the Rajnikanth phase in Madras (the height of Rajni's fame continued to grow, and still persists today). There were two camps in school: The Rajni camp and the Kamalahassan (or is it Kamal Hassan, he changed the spelling of his name when he started acting in Hindi films) camp, and in my school the Rajni camp won hands down.

Rajni was the Superstar, the hero for many of my classmates. "Ayyo Rajni padam," squealed this particular girl every time she passed by one of those gigantic hoardings on the road. She would even scream at posters that were stuck on walls with "Stick No Bills," labeled right on top of these kaleidoscopic posters. (I guess the huge billboard still stands outside Woody's bang opposite the US Consulate. And there are similar hoarding opposite Safire cinema must still be there. I am sure there are a lot of changes now).

Now, this particular gang that traveled on 25c consisted of Rajni fans, nay worshippers, who saw every movie of his. Weekends were spent watching his movie in a theatre. They would even bunk school to go and buy the ticked in advance for the opening day show. So it was like a dream come true for many of them to take this bus 25C to school with the faux Rajni. Because of the timings of the bus these girls were routinely late for school and assembly. (We started our day with Assembly. It was compulsory to attend Assembly. Students would take turns to play "Chopsticks" until the regular piano teacher came and we sang our hymns).

The Rajni gang got away with coming late for school for quite some time. They would delay their departure home to take that particular bus with that particular conductor. Many would stay behind after class and participate in extra curricular activities just so they could take the 5.30 pm bus, whose conductor was the Rajni look-alike.

But in life all good things come to an end sometime or the other and my classmates luck ran out. They were forced to abandon their late bus just so they could reach school on time. Apparently, their late arrival was noticed by the "Princy," who recommended that stern warnings be issued to the group about their late arrival. Instead of taking their favorite bus with their favorite conductor they were reduced to taking an earlier bus. And, this bus could not have been anything close to their previous bus. This was a “Ladies Special,” bus which had a very kind and low-keyed conductor, and not anything like the next bus that had the dashing faux Ranji. I don't know if they have still run these Ladies Special buses in Madras, but this was a great concept and many of us felt safe taking this bus.

Finally, when I started using the Pallavan Transport I chose the safe and non-threatening ladies bus. But in my later years I did manage to catch a glimpse of the Rajni look-alike conductor in bus number 25c. And, yes he was an "attai copy," of the Superstar. I also got to travel on bus number 9 and heard the conductor speak chaste Tamil.

A few years ago, on a visit to Madras I took a bus for old time's sake. I chose to ride a late afternoon bus to take me to the British Council in Mount Road. It was a harrowing experience and did not leave pleasant memories. I have since learnt that sometimes it is best not to re-create past memories. Everything changes, and the only thing that has not changed is your memory/is of the place or event, and that can never be re-created. That is why memories acquire a romantic and rosy tinge as years go by.