The Running Bus Adventure

The Running Bus Adventure
A simple bus ride that turned into a lesson on laughter and life.

Life’s a bumpy ride. Hold on, laugh later.

Some days aren’t about fancy moments or deep thoughts but about surviving the ride and laughing later. This was one of those days.

Today, I boarded a bus that was literally running; it didn’t even stop properly. I had to jump in like some action hero, except there was no background music, just honking, chaos, and dust.

The moment I entered, everyone looked at me like I had interrupted a serious meeting. One aunt held her handbag tightly; the conductor yelled, “Move inside!” and I realised that “inside” was already full of other unlucky souls like me.

The moment I got in, a perfect mix of dust and sweat, a smell that could wake the dead. The leg space was a joke; even ants would file a complaint. And the seat? It kept shaking, as if it had dreams of becoming a massage chair. 

I sat in the last row of the roller-coaster seat. Every time the driver hit a pothole, my soul seemed to leave my body for a second. Still, I somehow made it through 24 kilometres of this adventure.

The driver, by the way, was driving like the bus owed him money. Every time he turned, my body and soul went in opposite directions. I thought about texting my family, “If I don’t make it, tell them it was Bus No. 219.”

When I tried to open the window for fresh air. It didn’t move. I pushed, pulled, prayed-nothing. When it finally gave in, it welcomed me with a fresh blast of dust straight into my eyes.

Meanwhile, an uncle talked on his phone so loudly that the entire bus knew his family’s history, business, and blood pressure level. Even the driver slowed down, probably to listen to the updates.

And then there was the conductor’s magic trick. I gave him ₹200 for a ₹30 ticket. He smiled and said, “Change later.” After that, he disappeared like a magician on stage. I spent the next 20 minutes wondering if I’d ever see my ₹170 again.

Still, I caught myself smiling somewhere between all the bumps, noise, and near-death turns. Maybe life’s like this, too loud, messy, uncomfortable, but funny when you think about it later.

At one point, I looked around. No one seemed bothered. People were scrolling through their phones like nothing was happening. Meanwhile, I was holding the seat before me, trying not to fly out of the window.

When the bus finally slowed, I jumped off safely this time, landing like a tired superhero who just finished a very low-budget action movie. No applause, no background music, just me, the dust, and a small, proud smile.

Not every journey needs comfort; some just need courage and a sense of humour.