Vellore was just another town in the sordid horizon, with its unbearable heat burning down everything that tries to break ground. Till this happened…
It was night when we left Bangalore. I often accompanied my Mama (Mother’s brother in Tamil) to spend my holidays in Madras. This was one such trip, and my Paati (grandmother) was to accompany us. I was miffed that I had to travel by bus and not by the ever-exciting train. And it was a night bus!! So not much to gaze out of the window upon :(. I am eternally devoted to spending my free time, sitting by the window in a journey, gaping into the lives of people on the streets… the odd hut in the horizon, the crisscross roads, the jagged rock, the twisted tree, the wild flower hiding in the grass… Aw, I could do nothing of that tonight!!! How will I sit through the journey on an endless night like this!!!
We settled snug and warm into our seats, but I couldnt sleep. I was wide awake to the noises of people sneezing, snoring, the lonely driver talking to the ticket guy incessantly… I listened to the highs and lows of their lives, their families, their take on politics, movies, the icons who ruled their thoughts and ideals… My mind tuned in to the noises of the night… the unceasing buzz of the beetles outside, an occasional dhaba blaring loud music, a car whizzing on the road… Trucks and buses stopping for a break in the ardous journey.
A passenger stepped in from the inky blackness at Hosur and settled down beside the driver. He seemed to know the driver well. A regular traveller I suppose. I heard him say there were rumours of trouble enroute to Madras. The driver scoffed, and dismissed it, saying he would have been informed. The voices droned on and slowly lulled me to sleep.
I heard murmurs that were growing into a steady rumble… tyres screeching, then stillness. I must be dreaming… I turned sides to get comfortable, and stopped. The bus was not moving! Where were we? I looked out of the window. It was pitch dark. But i could see the outline of buses ahead of us. My uncle had woken up and was in conversation with the driver. There was a group gathering outside my window… people from the other buses as well! They had got word that the route to Madras was hit by riots last night and it was not safe to head towards the city. The driver was not willing to go ahead.
It was 12 am and we were in the middle of nowhere! The passengers convinced the driver to atleast take them upto the nearest town, which happened to be Vellore. With worry heavy on our brows we made it to Vellore. The driver parked it in the bus station and hurried off to get a good night’s sleep!
What next? Some adventure this is going to be, I thought. I was actually tinged with excitement… Wow! THis is something i can rave about to my friendsl. But paati!!! She was highly diabetic, and her eyesight was failing. Her hearing was also impaired. Oh, my mama must be really worried, trying to get me and her safely home!! Effacing my initial excitement, I picked up my bag and helped paati get down.
We looked around the bus stand. It was nothing but an open yard filled with rows of buses. No shelter, or even seats to park ourselves on! It had rained incessantly these few days and the ground was slush and water. A faint drizzle… Gosh!!! What a mess!
I found the yawning of a makeshift tea shop empty and we huddled there while my Mama fetched the bags. An elderly man saw us and got out a chair from his all night shop and told my granny to sit on it. I managed to perch on a nearby stone. My uncle chatted with him and got uprised of the situation. Right now, no buses were allowed to enter or leave Chennai towards this direction. But the police were discussing the possibility of opening up the route later on, with buses being escorted from Vellore.
By 2pm, the bus stand was a humdrum of noise, as business was brisk for the one or two night hawkers who had started out late in the day. Buses packed with people started pouring in and this part of Vellore came to life. Then, the police vans came, and the news spread that buses would be setting out in batches of five. We were relieved and picked up our bags, but fell back as the crowds shoved and pushed, trying to get on to the bus, through the window as well! The seats were up for grabs and everything rested on how well you could muscle your way through. Being tiny, I shoved my bags against jostling bodies and squeezed in… No seats! My paati! How could she manage the journey standing! Nobody was to give a second look at an old lady at a time like this! We resigned ourselves to our earlier perch and resumed the wait in silent despair. Sometime soon, when the crowds dwindled we would get our chance…
As the wee hours of the night broke into dawn, the air was chill and the draught made me shiver. I looked at Paati and wondered how she was managing. She was a bit groggy and the situation had not sunk in. She managed to shut her eyes, oblivious of the chaos. Around five pm, the tea stall near us came to life and the vendor set the tea brewing… Steaming hot chai wafting wonderous fragrances in the stifled air! My uncle returned with milk for us and chai for himself. I grimaced and he went back to get me chai in a glass. It filled me with some life, and the vendor came up to me with some biscuits. Touched by his gesture, I drank two more cups of chai ;)
Weary of the wait and energised with our watery brew, we decided to try our luck. It was five in the morning and we were not sure if the riots would resume in the day. That would mean we would be left behind in Vellore, and paati being diabetic, we couldnt risk it. She needed to eat and rest on time and wouldnt be able to put up with the strain.
We firmly got hold of the bags, and headed to the next bus that came up. I wiggled in and managed to get a seat. Finally! A woman, vexed by losing the seat to a wisp of a girl like me, tried to wrest it out. I was glued to the seat and in my broken Tamil told her to beat it. People around me broke into murmurs of how youngsters had no respect for elders as the lady broke into a tirade. By then, my uncle had got Paati on to the bus and relieved me. The murmurs were shamed into silence and we heaved a sigh. We were on our way home!
That was the last bus to leave Vellore bus stand towards Madras that day, and rioting resumed that very morning, not ending till the day after. I always take the train to the city, and that was my Paati’s last visit to anywhere.
(I had almost forgotten about this incident. It was a long time ago and I wanted to forget it as quickly as possible. But as I read about Andy’s acccount of Vellore in the rains today, and the slush and muck shuffled my memory and a moment stood out…)
