Bus-Top Riding

The day had completely gotten the better of me, and I could feel it with every emptying exhale. Though over the past month I was quite proud of how I had taken in stride the gauntlet that is India, sometimes it all just got to me - the heat, the cows, the stares - and this was one of those days. Deepak and I had spent the day in the village of Barbad with a Sarvajal franchisee, and our bus was finally pulling up. Despite its crooked suspension, rusted sores and fractured windshield, it was the most beautiful bus I had seen in years. The day was finally over.

“Go to top?” Deepak managed to say with choppy English and a rising hand gesture.

“Yeah!” I immediately burst out, walking to the rear of the bus with fervent eyes and an awakened bounce in my step. I had always wanted to ride on top of the bus, and the idea of escaping the inevitable stares of the riders inside was welcome.

With my backpack on both shoulders and gumcha wrapped around my head, I made my way up the warm ladder and onto the shallow metal tray atop the crudely painted beast. After only one step forward it leapt to life with the pop of a clutch, causing my arms to shoot out to my sides for balance and my eyes to open wide with the precarious reality of the situation. As the bus climbed to 20, 30, 40 kilometers an hour, Deepak and I quickly made our way to the front and immediately sat down.

The metal roof was hot, hotter than I imagined, and the scalding rail on my right was hard to grasp for more than a few seconds at a time. I could feel the bus continue its romp through the gears - 40, 50, 60 kilometers an hour - and the wind grew exponentially as it washed against my front teeth that were now exposed in a full childlike grin.

Driving past rusted telephone poles, wild brown-green trees and tilled fields, the sky looked bluer as I inhaled gallons of fresh air through my nose. The wind flicked my gumcha onto my shoulders and ran through my hair and down my back replacing warm sweat with a cool blanket. Even though Deepak was sitting a few feet behind me, I felt like the only one atop that bus, or anywhere for that matter. It was just me enjoying something I would have never experienced otherwise.

The wind had washed away the heat, and the cows and the stares, replacing it all with the sense that India was a wonderfully raw place like no other.