Experiences help us shape our future. Without these experiences, our world is one great bubble, waiting to burst. They say that the experiences we have, help us control other experiences of the same magnitude, more effectively. However, I don’t think I want to test that theory.

Semi-urban Mangalore is a place full of bustling activity. The shops and the bus conductors shouting out their destinations is enough to enthrall even the most grim souls. However, it has its limitations.

My father had some work to do in a bank and had taken me along to a half hour trip to the city. I was pleased as I wanted to escape the burning heat in a less idle manner. After he had finished what he had to do, he decided to take me back through bus, as compared to the auto-rickshaw we had travelled in earlier. After a bit of waiting, my father saw a bus that had the name ‘ASHOK’ and said that that was the bus we needed to board, thus initiating the most horrifying experience of my life.

The bus was a beat-up vehicle that looked like it had gone through several accidents without repair. As soon as I stepped onto the first step of the bus, the bus immediately started moving, jerking me along. I just managed to make it inside alive. The only place that was free in the now heavily speeding bus was just perpendicular to the driver, on the extreme edge of the seat. There was a rod that was supposed to protect me from falling, next to me. However, it looked wide enough for the heavily obese man to slip into and fall out. Considering my position, this wasn’t very reassuring. Needless to say, there was no door.

About 3 miles later, an old man who was so thin that it was highly probable to me that he suffered from osteoporosis,  got up to leave the bus at his station. He looked at me in a weird way, like he was mocking me for the look of terror that I obviously had on my face, “Great”, I thought. Now, even rickety old men were mocking me.

When he got down, a beautiful girl stepped onto the bus. Suddenly, I felt very possessive about her. I thought that every step she took to get into the bus would cause her to fall to her death, even though I had never seen, or will ever see this girl in my life again. I felt kicking myself for being so considerate about her when at any moment, I knew I would die. I refrained myself from this sort of punishment as I knew it would lead to my imminent death. She soon left the bus a few stops later and I was happy that she would survive from this lethal roller-coaster.
Meanwhile, the young driver kept speeding in the very narrow roads. Soon, a man in a black leather jacket riding a sports bike dangerously traversed onto our path, causing the bus to swerve dangerously and almost hit an oncoming lorry. That’s when I realized that, there were other people who could die because of this rash driving and not just me. The sooner I got out of this bus, the better.

In what seemed like eons, our stop arrived. My father, who I had never even looked at since boarding the bus, cheerfully stepped out , probably remembering his college days when he used to ride on Devil’s vehicles like these. I was never too enthusiastic to follow.

An hour later, a I lay in my air-conditioned room, I decided to check how much I had paid for riding the ‘ highway to hell’. That’s when I realized, that I had never actually paid my ticket. Coming to think of it, I had never even seen a bus conductor walking around in that bus. So I guess if you want to travel in a bus for free; be prepared for the ride of your life.

Literally.