Bus music

Before I begin writing this post, I would like to apologize in advance, to all those people whose sentiments I am going to hurt in this post. In the society we live in, a lot of people take extreme displeasure when their musical choices are attacked. Music, I think, ranks right up there with religion and country when it comes to inciting violence and aggression. People are extremely intolerant about others' music choices, and want more and more people to listen to and enjoy what they listen to and enjoy. I, on the other hand, listen to the kind of music that sounds good. I don't care about bands' reputations, and I don't care about genres, and I, therefore, many-a-times, say things that are not supposed to be said. Therefore, I consider it safe to apologize right now, for any feathers that I ruffle during the course of this post.

I'm sure all of you are familiar with the phrase 'The best of both worlds.' But have you ever come across the phrase 'The worst of both worlds.' No? I thought so. Well I have. Yesterday, in fact. Where? In da bus.

It all started innocently enough. I boarded a bus to take me to college in the morning. I sat down, not knowing what was in store for me. I found out soon enough, though. The bus journey from the AIIMS Campus gate to the IIT campus gate takes about 15 minutes. And yesterday, these 15 minutes turned into the longest quarter-hour of my life.

As is common in buses in the morning, music was playing at the loudest possible volume. I have always wondered what it is that prompts people to play loud music early in the mornings. But tolerant that I am when it comes to music, most mornings I bear with the loud music-playing in buses. Yesterday, however, I was almost driven mad by it. The music was undoubtedly recorded (on a tape) by the driver or the conductor (or a friend of theirs) with noble intentions, like regaling passengers like me with excellent music. But apparently, their music tastes didn't exactly match mine. The first track he played was dreadful. Here is what it went like.

(Very, very squeaky and out-of-tune female voice singing)
Ek aankh maroo to rasta ruk jaye...
Duji aankh maroo to bheed aa jaye...
Dono aankh maroo to....
(Pregnant pause)...

Chhora pat jaaye, pat jaaye. Chhora pat jaaye.

I somehow managed to survive that song without impaling myself with the fountain-pen I was carrying in my hand. But my horrors were far from over. The next song began almost immediately after the first one. And it was no better. It was, to be more precise, Sexy Lady, by Shaggy.

The conductor, no doubt in a fit of zeal, had thought that songs in only one language would get a bit monotonous for the passengers, and showing great compassion for his listeners, had decided to give us a bit of variety. I am quite sure that a lot of people like the 'Shaggy' kind of music (I, in fact remember a friend of mine in school who quite used to enjoy Shaggy. Every time I used to take my iPod to school, he used to ask me whether he could listen to a bit of Shaggy. Each time, I would gently remind him that I didn't have any on my Pod, and he would go away, dejected, only to return the next day with infinite hope that I had managed to load a few of Shaggy's songs on my iPod in the previous 24 hours.), but I, for one, don't. Try as I might, I can not get myself to appreciate the Shaggy kind of music. The conductor's efforts to please his audience were, therefore, entirely wasted on me.

Shaggy ended after what seemed like a year. But my troubles were far from over. Looking out from the window, I realized that I was still 5 minutes away from sanctuary (sanctuary, in this case, being IIT. Much as I crib about it, it does seem to have an almost total absence of maniacal, overzealous conductors.), and the conductor was far from over with his morning music. He switched back to Hindi, and although I thought things just couldn't get any worse, they did. Here's what the next song sounded like.

(Man, who for some reason sounds like he has a lot of facial hair and is wearing dark glasses, in deep voice, screeching) - Tu ladki kawaari hain.
(Cronies) - Hai, Hai, Hai.
(Man, again) - Tu tirchhi katari hain.
(Cronies, in a slightly different tune) - Hai, Hai, Hai.
(Man, yet again) - Tu meethi supari hain.
(Cronies, in yet another tune) - Hai, Hai, Hai.
(Man, for what seems like a last time, but really isn't) - Tu hum sabko pyaari hain.
(Creative Cronies, in another new tune) - Hai, Hai, Hai.
(Man) - To aaja, aaja, aaaaaaaa.......

This is where I got off.
And this is what I do this Monday onwards.
1. I never travel in a bus again.
2. I walk to and from college.
3. If I am too tired to walk to and from college, I take the car.
4. If I have gone to college walking, and am too tired to walk back, I ask people for lifts, after making sure their cars do not have music players in them.
5. If I have gone to college walking, and am too tired to walk back, and I come across no cars without music players in them, I call up one of my parents and ask them to pick me up.
6. If I have gone to college walking, and I am too tired to walk back, and I come across no cars without music players in them, and my parents think I am crazy and refuse to come anywhere near me, I stop a car, pull out the driver (in true bollywood style), and drive off in his vehicle.
7. I carry a firearm at all times to be used against maniacal, overzealous conductors and/or drivers, and in extreme cases, against people who are too heavy to be pulled out of their vehicles.

That, I think, should solve my problems, which according to Mr. Mayank Gupta, I have a lot of.