Mr.Krishnamurthi and the Bus Driver

I was crossing the inner ring road at Domlur junction when I saw the "201" bus amble by me. And I was thinking,If only there had been a door on the right side of the bus, I could have at least given a shot at diving inside the bus :)


I was hurrying towards the bus stand when I saw that the same 201 was still standing and though I could see a large number of empty seats, somehow the passengers were getting in very slowly.Imagine my surprise when I saw men standing all over the foot board and unable to get in smoothly when the bus was nearly empty.


By now I was determined that I should get inside the bus. As I was nearing the bus, it rolled slowly. And I was like, man I am not going to miss this one. And I increased my pace of walking.


Then I saw the reason why people were unable to get in easily. There was only one door to this bus. And there was no conductor, so the bus driver was having to issue tickets, take the fare and return the change, while also ensuring that he was not blocking traffic. He stopped a young man without correct change, from entering the bus.


I was the last but one to get inside the bus. After me an old man entered. He looked like a construction worker as he was carrying some tools.


My fare was 7 rupees and I did not have notes. I had a fifty. I asked him if he had change. He was irritated with all the tasks he had to do. And he gruffly said no. As I did not want to be asked to leave like the young man, so I started rummaging through my purse for any change I might have miraculously saved, all the while standing near the steel bar near the driver.


I was lucky. I got a 5 rupee coin and a 2 rupee coin. With a flourish, I took them out and took the ticket from the driver. The old man behind me wanted the 25 rupees day pass. He requested the driver if he could write down his name on it. His name was Krishnamurthi, I heard him tell the driver so.


The driver, overworked as he was, refused very rudely. Mr Krishnamurthi then said that he could not write and again requested the driver to write his name on the pass. The driver got abusive and said he did not give a damn if he could write or not, and asked him to get it written by some other passenger.


Mr. Krishnamurthi then spoke back in anger and told the driver that he was rude. Saying so, he went inside looking for a seat. Last, I saw him getting his name written by a co passenger.

I sat in peace. But I felt sorry for the driver, who might never experience the magic of a thankful smile.