Outline: You are sitting in an over-crowded bus—An old lady some- how manages to get into the crowded bus, you think in your mind—whether to offer the lady a seat. At last you decide to offer her the seat—She thanks you.
The transport system in a big city like Delhi is far from satisfaction, a It is a total dismal, a complete failure. Here commuters increase by thousands every day and the number of buses remain the same. They rather decrease. Most of them are unserviceable, Most of these buses are only in name otherwise they are junk, must be piled up in a junk dealer's shop. You have to travel in such rickety and shaky buses. There are hundreds of buses with many depots and workshops But still they are insufficient, they cannot cope with the need of growing population. Their condition is horrible, they let out plenty of smoke. They are dangerous even to the very existence (life) of the daily commuters. They sound their death knell (sound of a bell-especially at funeral).
The biggest trouble with the Delhi Transport Corporation (short form -D.T.C.) buses is that they are over-crowded day and night. The public is put to a lot of inconvenience, as if it were held at ransom (a sum of money paid for release). The buses are jam packed. Even on an off day, say Sunday, a commuter is not destined to travel comfortably and freely. The people are huddled up together as if they were cows and buffaloes. To catch a D.T.C. bus is not an easy job. It is an ordeal. There is sufficient jolting and jostling, pushing and pulling. Most of the time tempers run high. There is a quarrel. From hot words, commuters come to blows. The very charm of travelling by a local bus is lost. The journey becomes quite annoying and irksome. One vows never to travel by a local bus. But the very next moment, the vow is broken, the bus is boarded and more woes begin.
Just imagine, a bus having a capacity of 56 passengers is packed with 200 people. Try to guess the plight of the old men and women, the ladies and the children. Not to speak of the crippled, the handicapped and the blind. In such crowded buses we experience discomfort as well as meet riff raff (crowd of vulgar poeple). Such people take recourse to calling filthy names, using rubbish. There is a constant fear of being pick-pocketed. The overcrowded D.T.C. bus is heaven for the pick-pockets and chain snatchers.
The other day I was travelling from Okhia to the Old Delhi Railway Station in a bus. The bus was as usual jam-packed. Anyhow I entered with great difficulty. Then the question of getting a seat arose. Thanks God, I got it. It was not less than a windfall. I was over joyous because a seat in a D.T.C. bus is never available. It is always occupied. Passengers appear to he glued to it. They never vacate it, though they may miss their wanted stop. What a great love for the seat of a bus To my misery I saw an old lady struggling and scrambling, got into the bus. She was over- perspired. She
was gasping for breath. I saw a few stout but haughty young men occupying the seats meant for ladies and old people. This old lady requested them in her feeble (weak) voice for a seat but they laughed away. They did not care to get up. Now, she turned towards me but said nothing. I was in a fix whether to offer her my seat (which I had managed after a great difficulty) or not. I closed my eyes and ears as if I had neither seen nor heard. But soon the sense of duty towards the old and the unfirm awoke in me. It got up. I vacated my seat. I offered it to the old lady. She thanked me from the core of her heart. She showered her blessings on me. It got mental satisfaction though physically I was tossed to and fro. It was like passing through an ordeal.
