Kolkata to Bhubaneswar is about two hundred and fifty miles, about eight hours journey by train. In our scheduling process, we had a kept a full day to accomplish the task. With the train delays, our schedule was in trouble. I had requested a student meeting at the University iBhubaneswar next day afternoon. I was anxious to meet the students. My goal was to reach Bhubaneswar in the morning. I had come to the bus stand to experiment if I could manage to make the travel without help. In my mind, it was an independent test of my understanding of the country and a test of my adaptability to new situations. Any such test however needed robust health and proper tools to use in the process. Though I accomplished the objective, I developed serious lingering cough through exposure and improper insulation. Public transportation in Kolkata is one of the best in the country. While there is convenience for access in the city, the State also provides good connections to the interior. At the same time Kolkata operates as a satellite junction for connecting to north east India. Bengal was divided by the British on religious lines. The eastern half has evolved as a new country called Bangladesh. A good amount of Bengali population also lives to the east of Bangladesh. I had come to a location that served buses to the south and west outside the borders of the Indian part of Bengal called West Bengal. The bus routes were the arteries for the local economy. They transported city goods to the interior and brought produce to the city. As I arrived, I saw scores of buses parked on both sides of an open area with a major road going in between. The buses were getting loaded. It appeared that many could be regular travelers and they knew the process. Like the Kali Temple, the system was entirely private. There was no information booth or any public information exchange. All rules and the bus schedules were through word of mouth. There were various people sitting on some temporary benches with hand-made signs touting as ticket booths. The only relationship I had was that some of them spoke Oriya. I bought a ticket to a bus that would leave at 5 PM. The likely time of arrival in Bhubaneswar was 4 AM.
Kolkata is a paradise of fruits. Begalis have an eye for fashion, style and taste. The same fruits could be available elsewhere, but they could be served in a colored medley in Kolkata. Spices could be garnished on them to add taste and flavor. The origin of these was more with experiments of human freedom, than the science of nutrition. The taste through medley is a peculiar invention in the India's north east. Oils from nuts and flowers are an old Indian herbal recipe, but their application in food is glorified on Kolkata streets.
I sampled fruits from several push cart vendors. All orders were made to order. Fresh fruit would be peeled and then sliced in various artistic ways, they would be positioned in segments or in layers on a plate, a colorful sculptural food plate would emerge and would be consumed by picking up using a bamboo pin; all natural and all work of art. What Oriyas do on stones and metals, here was done with fruits. It was the land of the Devi, fresh produce!
A real drama was waiting for me. I went on exploring the Kolkata streets on fruits and novelties, and returned to get to my bus departure time. I reached ten minutes earlier, but I did not find the bus. I thought the bus possibly moved to get some more loading. After moving around a bit, I met a man with red T shirt that I had noticed before. I learned that the bus had left, but came his consolation "not to worry." He said he would let me catch the bus.
Kolkata's lawlessness was hitting directly on my face. I thought about my friends, but my luggage was gone. I had to chase if I could. The red T shirt man let me ride another bus that apparently went in the same route. This was a red color Volvo bus against the other Dolphin bus. This bus was nice, but I did not have a seat. I sat next to the driver and the chase began. The driver counseled me not to worry.
It took an hour to go out of the city. After another hour so, at the dusk time the rendezvous happened. I was tranferred to my bus and I did occupy my seat. The bus had been loaded up with more goods that the one had to walk over the sacks. The new bus was not as comfortable as the Volvo bus, but I did not seek out. In a private economy, your option is limited to what you want. You need to do your homework all the time before stepping outside.
The bus stopped again in another hour, this time for supper. All were led to a low height structure where dinners were served. My table had a father and son company, and another person going back to work. The teen age son started drinking from a long bottle, the father counseled him not to consume too much. They spoke Bengali. The young man did not eat anything, the father had his supper. The other man ate to his heart's content. Apparently one could ask for unlimited supply. It was the business hospitality!
I was tired and wanted to close my eyes. I had to play a cat and mouse game with my front seat passenger. Every time I closed the window and slept, I got up to the cold blast of an open window. There was no negotiation, everyone had freedom. I resigned to my bad decision of taking the wrong bus. I took non air-conditioned bus to escape dry coughs, but I had no idea that I would be exposed to cold air through the night.
The bus stopped every hour or so. It reached my home town of Cuttack about 3:30 AM. A massive transfer of luggage took place. Sacks were thrown on the street. A person counted the total number which probably did not mean much. In the modern living, people's needs and medication might be contained in those sacks. I wondered about the time it might take to create orderliness in the system. It appeared as all was wounded.
I reached Bhubaneswar at about 5 AM. The bus parked in a residential area. Somebody asked me to take an auto-rickshaw to move forward. They let me get one and I did reach my sister's house in one piece, but somewhat ached but relieved!
