DTC Shrews

Follow us:WhatsappFacebookTwitterTelegram.cls-1{fill:#4d4d4d;}.cls-2{fill:#fff;}Google News The bus halts. Grind-n-wind. There is clambering up the stairs. Thud-n-rud. People clear out. Rustle-n-bustle. The form swallows a seat. Meow-the cat purrs. Its a cat. Its a 'behn.' Its superwoman. Hollah! The DTC shrew.

Centuries ago Prince Petruchio had tamed Katherine the shrew. Today, you wont find anyone chivalrous person to combat these DTC mataharis. As a regular commuter of the Delhi Transport Confusion...oops Corporation, I have encountered these divas for whom the single rule is-Might is Right.

I remember one morning when a poor ill-starred fellow bore the brunt by snatching their official privilege. He committed the ultimate sacrilege of occupying a vacant ladies seat. Lord! In rumbled a shrew sole priestess of that high seat. 'Seek and ye shall find' said the Saviour but for the lady it was 'Shriek and ye shall find.' And shriek she did. Needless to say the emasculated usurper slinked away and down sat the victor with a gratified thump. She came, she saw, she conquered.

Another day it was the turn of a poor, poor conductor. On him descended a volatile shrew haggling ferociously over the ticket fare. With a vigorous nod of her head she arbitrarily slashed the amount by half. All through the lamb bleated and the tigress roared. Tigress tigress burned bright. With all her fury spent, the wheels of peace were returning .....when suddenly appeared another wronged lady all fire and brimstone. She had paid a tenner and not received the balance yet. The way she hollered. Mercifully the world survived these two holocausts but what about the conductor? I wouldn't be surprised if he quit job the next day.

Then again was another story. The bus was stuffed to the ceiling on a hot noon. Amid all the mindless yakking rose a high pitched female voice, 'My purse! Someone has snatched my purse.' In absolute temper the shrew waddled around red-nosed. There was an instant frenzy to find the cut-purse.....when she bellowed for the second time. Someone had stamped upon her feet. Yaargh! Chillies and pepper. Ssssss! The day just got hotter.

However if there are lionesses then there are lambs as well. That day one of the milder versions tiringly sat down in the seat reserved for the handicapped. What handicap you may ask. So did the conductor. Up waved her toe. It was swollen. Oh! Swollen. Draconian laws were immediately set in a shivering contralto. She must sit alone. And the fare? Of course not. In between sighs escaped a smile. Lah! that smile. The meek may inherit the earth but that day clearly the cheek inherited the berth.

And finally was the day when the bus stood at a stop for quite a while as usual to fill in passengers. Up stood a shrew in livid rage. She couldn't stand it. She couldn't wait any longer. Her head was aching. She was getting late. Very late. The bus finally moved but had not gone ten paces when-horrors of horrors - there happened a puncture. Up stood the lady growling at the driver and I saw the Queen of Hearts thunder. 'Off with his head. He is murdering time.'









first published:August 07, 2006, 15:37 ISTlast updated:August 07, 2006, 15:37 IST
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