Traveling in a Bus
Delhi is a crowded city. There are very few rich people who travel by their own vehicles. The majority of people cannot afford to hire a taxi or a three-wheeler. They have to depend on D.T.C. buses which are the cheapest mode of conveyance. D.T.C. buses are like blood capillaries of our body spreading all over Delhi. One day I had to go to the railway station to receive my uncle. I had to reach there by 9.30 a.m. knowing the irregularity of the D.T.C. bus service; I left my home at 7.30 a.m. and reached the bus stop. There was a long queue. Everybody was waiting for the bus but the buses were passing one after another without stopping. I kept waiting for about an hour. I was feeling very restless and I was afraid that I might not be able to reach the station in time. It was 8.45. Luckily a bus stopped just in front of me. It was overcrowded but somehow I managed to get on the bus. Some passengers were hanging on the footboard, so there was no question of getting a seat. It was very uncomfortable. We were feeling suffocated. All of a sudden, an old man declared that his pocket had been picked. He accused the man standing beside him. The Youngman took a knife out of his pocket and waved it in the air. Nobody dared to catch him. I thanked God when the bus stopped at the railway station. I reached there just in time.
