This episode goes back to the first week of December 1981. Ananth’s father, had passed away the previous year at Pollachi, their native place, and Ananth, his wife Mala and their 7 year old daughter Kamu had planned to go to Pollachi to attend the first year’s ceremonies. Ananth had requested his niece, Usha, to take care of their two sons, Venkat, 11 and Ganpat, 9, for a week as their half-yearly exams at their School was fast approaching. For both boys, this was extremely exciting as they would get the opportunity to play with their cousin’s children who were roughly the same age as them.
Venkat was entrusted with the responsibility of taking care of his younger brother. This meant going to the school and returningtogether. This didn’t make any sense to the boys though. They did study in the same school but the respective buildings of the primary Section (upto Class V) and the Secondary Section (VI-XII) were atleast 1 km away from each other. Moreover, for the previous 6 months, they had always gone separately, each taking different buses of the Pallavan Transport Corporation. Ganpat’sschool timings were from 8.45 am to 3.15pm and Venkat’s was from 8.45am to 4 pm. Neither did Venkat want to be saddled with this responsibility nor was Ganpat willing to walk the additional 1 km just to wait outside his brother’s school. Moreover, if he didn’t take the bus at 3.30 pm, there was no way he would be back to play cricket with the other boys by 4:30 pm.
For Ganpat, the bus journey was always thrilling. He liked to wait until the bus started and run along a few paces before latching onto the bar and hauling himself him. He couldn’t afford to leave this for too late as by then the men will start sprinting as well – just the few paces were enough for him. If the bus was crowded, the footboard was the place to stand. It was the best place in the bus too – good cross-breeze blew in and there was always someone available in one of the last few rows to him he could offload his school bag.
Have you ever been a school student and travelled by the Pallavan buses of those days ? If you haven’t, I tell you, you missed something. PTC had a special concession scheme for students. You would get 100 colourful little perforated tickets pre-printed which you could buy off the Transport Office’s BusDepot for Rs. 7 and 50 paise. With each ticket, you could travel from anywhere to anywhere in Madras. All you needed was your School Identity badge or card. Theoretically, one had to tear off one sheet and hand it over to the conductor for every journey. However, the conductors on this route were familiar with the boys and you know what happens with familiarity – contempt for rules. Students would initially hand over the tickets to the conductor. Then over time, they would simply show the tickets when asked. Later still, the conductors would simply raise their eyebrows and the lads would say “Pass”. If you travelled back and forth from school every day of the month and gave the tickets to the conductors, you would at best, expend 50 tickets. Imagine then that with the system as it was, one had more than 75% of the tickets available for travel all over the City absolutely free of cost. The tickets had no identity too – if you forgot to carry yours, you could always borrow one from a friend and that would be sufficient for that journey.
Ganpat carried two bags – one a school bag which was made of jute and had a sling attached which he would hang either on his shoulder or on his head depending upon how heavy the school bag was, and another, a little red basket in which he carried a plastic tiffin box and a waterbottle. His favourite lunch item was curd rice; not only did he like it, it was the easiest to consume during lunch break so that precious time could be saved for some hand-cricket with his classmates.
Madras, they say, has only 3 seasons; hot, hotter and hottest. When ‘depression’ forms in the Bay of Bengal and dark clouds loom over the city, citizens come out to celebrate and welcome the first showers. When it rains, it pours. Soon, the streets get flooded so much, that one gets a beach-like experience simplyby walking the streets. If it continues to pour, the city bursts at its seams. A couple of days of such rain, and you could bet your bottom paise that the following day would be declared a school holiday by the Administration.
Ananth, Mala and Kamu had only left by train the previous night to Coimbatore after dropping Venkat and Ganpat with Usha. Mala had given Usha some money asking her to give ten rupees each to Venkat and Ganpat so that they may buy the tickets-booklet, called “Token”, from the main Bus Depot.
Madras woke up to torrential downpour the next morning. Usha’s place was very close to the Bus Depot and the boys would have the luxury of boarding an empty bus and traveling to school. It was the perfect start to the week; Ganpat had a brandnew lovely pink-coloured raincoat, replete with little white flowers. Presently, he buttoned down the raincoat with its big buttons and pulled the hood on top of his head. Usha watched this with amusement and said it looked “Super !” She also gave him a ten rupee note for him to buy the tickets-booklet for the next month’s travel asking him to be extra careful with the money. Ganpat tucked away the ten rupee note in the inside cover of his diary and then stowed it away in his school bag.
It felt great walking to the bus depot in that new raincoat but when he found an empty bus on the route to school and boarded it, the humidity got to him. He now wanted to take off the raincoat and wanted to sit by the window, but the damn buttons wouldn’t open. So, he perched himself, raincoat and all, perspiring inside, and allowed the droplets of rain to drip on the rexine seat. Spotting the familiar conductor, he announced he was visiting his relative and would board from the bus depot for a week. The conductor looked at him, smiled, as if saying, “Did I ask you ?”
The bus was near empty and he reached school a good fifteen minutes ahead of his normal schedule. Chandra, the class monitor, said the raincoat looked cute and started giggling. Somehow he didn’t like the raincoat thereafter.
With very few students in, the teachers stayed away and the kids frolicked, making paper boats, writing on the black board, playing book cricket and Name-Place-Animal-Thing (ever played it ? if that game had spread, it would have topped the popularity of “Spelling Bee” contests). Lunch was taken early and shortly thereafter, it was announced over the amplifier that the school would close down early for the day due to rains. Ganpat and a few classmates decided they would move over to the verandah at Shibu’s house to play cricket with a rubber ball. Shibu’s house was quite close to the T. Nagar bus depot, walkable from school – so Ganpat hoped to take a near empty bus back home to Usha’s house thereafter.
Shibu Koshy Philips’ father worked with the Public Works Department and PWD had nice quarters for their employees. Their mother worked in some other primary school. Shibu had a younger brother and both of them used to get some pocket money. Shibu often used some pocket money to buy ‘Eclairs’ chocolates for his classmates. Most other boys did not get any pocket money – for some reason it was considered taboo.
No one wanted to bowl; batting was the only sought after part of the game of cricket. One of them would write numbers starting with 1 to x (x being the variable of the number of boys playing)on the floor in some random order, hide it with the face of the bat and ask others to touch the extended line to choose their turn. Ganpat’s was second, but Raman, whose turn was last,chose to pick up a quarrel and their game was abandoned even before it began.
It had stopped raining but there were dark skies looming. So Ganpat decided it would be better to board the bus from the Bus Depot and be on his way before it started raining again. Having to wear that rain coat again was not something he was looking forward to. Sure enough, the bus had barely begun its journey when the skies opened up once more and it poured very heavily that afternoon. From Ganpat’s point of view, this was even better; the bus powered through those flooded roads without stopping anywhere as Ganpat enjoyed the view through the glass windows.
The KK Nagar Bus Depot where the bus finished its journey was practically empty. Ganpat got down and asked for the ticket counter. Every month it was a nightmare to buy these ticket-booklets having to stand in a big queue but that day it was practically empty. He bought the ticket-booklet, collected the change of Rupees two and fifty paise and stowed it away carefully in his diary which then went to a safe place in his bag. He then pulled out the raincoat from his bag, wore it and with a song on his lips, and watching people scurrying across to take shelter, he walked steadily to Usha’s flat.
Usha brought out a towel for Ganpat, but he said he didn’t need one at all. He then proceeded to narrate the day’s events, almost breathlessly, without omitting any details – how the bus was empty on the way to the school, how no teachers took any classes, how they had early lunch, how they were let off after lunch, how they played at Shibu’s place near the T.Nagar Bus Depot, how he alighted an empty bus on the way home, how he encountered no queue at all while buying the bus coupons…and then he stopped all of a sudden.
“What happened then”, asked Usha
Ganpat didn’t reply, he brought out his bag, took out all the books and placed it one after another on the couch, slowly at first and then quickening as he went along. He then opened his diary, took out the Rupees two and paise fifty and handed it over to Usha. He then flipped through all his books and emptied his pockets and began searching again.
“What happened, have you lost something ?” asked Usha. Ganpat’s face flushed with worry at first and then looking at her, he burst into tears, weeping uncontrollably. “I’ve lost it…. Akka”, he said haltingly, still crying.
“What have you lost ?”, she asked..
“Tokens”, he wailed, “I think the man at the counter forgot to give me the booklet”, he lied.
“Here, take this umbrella, go to the counter and ask”, she said “they will give it to you”.
Ganpat picked up the umbrella and practically ran in pouring rain across the road and arrived at the ticket-counter out of breath. There were a few people at the counter this time, but he tried to sneak up to the counter. Someone pushed him back, asking him to queue up again. Those few minutes seemed like an hour and when he reached the counter, he said,
“Anna, you seem to have forgotten to give me the coupon booklet”.
“No, I remember having given it to you. Here see this list, coupon booklet sl No…101 to 200, issued to School Id No…..”.That was Ganpat’s id. Ganpat began crying. He tried to reason with the man at the counter to issue another booklet and make the one issued, invalid. He was flatly told that was not possible and was helpfully advised to search for the booklets along the route he took to reach home.
Ganpat now abandoned the burden of having to hold the umbrella up. He closed the umbrella, and began searching in the pouring rain. He walked slowly, looking for every scrap bit of paper and turning it around to see if it was his booklet. He felt it was a heartless world when he looked around and saw others, standing below shelters, staring at him without asking what he was doing and without offering any help. Twenty minutes later, he had covered the entire distance from the Bus Depot to Usha’sflat without finding his ticket coupons. Drenched and thoroughly disgusted, he started wailing again when he spotted Usha at the door.
“Achachcho”, said Usha, “at this rate, you will catch a cold. Here take this towel, dry up and change immediately, she commanded”.
“Akka, my tokens….”, he began
“Let Mani come (Mani was the rickshaw driver who brought Ganpat’s nephew and niece home from school), I will ask him to search again”.
“I’ll go with him”, offered Ganpat
“You stay here”, she said angrily.
Before long, Mani was at the door bringing the children home. Usha told him about the tokens and he said he would search for them. Ganpat was absolutely certain Mani would not be able to find the tokens as he had done a thorough job of searching along the route. Ganpat’s gaze followed Mani from the balcony.
“Akka, what if Mani doesn’t find the tokens?”, asked Ganpat
“Jolly !”, she said, “you don’t have to go to school for one month”
“Akka, they will remove me from school”, he cried
“Excellent, then you have a longer holiday”, she said and started laughing.
Then seeing Ganpat’s face flushed once again, she said “Doesn’t matter, we will buy another one”
“Amma will be angry with me”, he said, “you won’t tell Amma, will you?” he asked
“Of course, I will tell her” she said, “she should know, you lost it, shouldn’t she ?”
“Ok, go ahead and tell her” Ganpat said, “you will be happy to see me being scolded, won’t you”- so saying he ran into the bathroom and started weeping in the confines there.
The bell rang, Usha opened and exclaimed “Found it !”
Ganpat opened the bathroom door and ran to the main door. “Where did you find it, Mani Anna?”, he asked.
“Doesn’t matter, does it?” he said, climbed onto his rickshaw and pedaled it to a start.
Ganpat ran after him, “Anna, you must tell me where you found it”, he said
“where you lost it”, Mani replied, “And you should always check whether you have paid correctly and collect the item you have paid for”
“So it was the man at the counter who had the booklet, isn’t it” shouted Ganpat, but by then Mani was out of earshot.
“Akka, as I told you, it was the man at the counter who had the token booklet. Will you come with me, we will ask him why he didn’t say so when I asked and you can then give him a piece of your mind” said Ganpat.
“Never mind”, she said, “and you didn’t leave it at the counter”
“I didn’t ? Then where did Mani Anna find it ?” continued Ganpat
“I said ‘never mind’ didn’t I ?” she said sharply.
That evening when Bala athimber, her husband returned from work, Usha filled him in with all the details and they both laughed about it. When Ganpat’s parents returned a few days later, she once again narrated the whole incident in graphic detail and the whole family seemed to enjoy the tale the narrative that evening. Ganpat was still not sure why Akkarefused to confront the man at the ticket counter, but he let it go.
Years rolled by. Ganpat got married to Rukku and the following evening they sat around opening the gifts they received at the wedding. One of them was from Usha Akka. Ganpat unfurled the wrapper to find a a blue coloured box with what looked like windows. He opened the box to find a gift cheque with a card, that read, “from Akka & Athimber, with best wishes”. Beneath that, in bold with two red underlines, were the words “a small gift TOKEN”
