Essay On My First Journey By Bus

A Journey By Bus

A journey by bus is an interesting study of men and manners. It is a thrilling experience. Once I got a chance to travel by bus from Kalka to Shimla. Each passenger was an interesting study. The passengers were going to Shimla for holidays. They were in high spirits. They cracked many jokes. We had a hearty laugh. The passengers were in a mood to enjoy life to the lees. Some were eating. Some of them were busy in friendly chat. Some of them impressed me while others annoyed me with their odd habits. The road was zig-zag. There were many sharp bends on the way. Outside, the scenery was quite beautiful. The tall pine trees seemed to travel with us. The deep valleys below looked charming inside, the atmosphere became lively all of a sudden. An old man, in tight-fitting trousers and a gaudy shirt, was the center of attraction for all eyes. Soon he started entertaining the passengers with his jokes. The journey became interesting and enjoyable. Our driver was careful in driving. We enjoyed the wayside scenes full of natural beauty. It was a real treat to life through these scenes. At last, out bus reached Shimla. I continue to cherish the memories of this interesting journey.


Essay No. 02


A Journey by Bus


It is generally said that a journey by bus is not so thrilling as one by train or aeroplane is. However, I had quite a pleasant experience of the journey by bus which I undertook last Sunday.

The week before Sunday had been a very hot one. My parents decided to spend a week at Shimla. We boarded the bus from Chandigarh to go to Shimla.

We reached the bus stand early in the morning. My father had to stand in a queue for some minutes to buy the tickets. Meanwhile, we killed the time by sitting on a bench near the queue.

Hardly had father bought the tickets at the booking window when the train bound for Shimla came. We boarded it immediately. I was feeling a thrill of pleasure in my heart.

I was fortunate in getting a seat near the window. I looked out constantly with great curiosity. At first the terrain was plain and it was quite hot even in the bus.

After sometimes, the bus moved on a hilly terrain and seemed to be moving upwards. It passed through a number of dark tunnels. I however, did not feel afraid because my papa and mummy were also there with me. Moreover, I found myself quite grown up to be courageous and bold.

I saw green hills, lush green forests which were dark and deep and small rivulets and springs. The pine trees looked very charming. The colourful flowers dancing in the breeze seemed to carry away my heart.

Indeed, it was a hilarious journey. As we reached Shimla, we felt that it was there cold enough to force us to wear some woolen garments.

This was my first visit to Shimla which I can never forget, nor I can ever forget the sweet journey by bus that we had.

May 13, 2016evirtualguru_ajaygourEnglish (Sr. Secondary), Languages5 CommentsEnglish 10, English 12, English Essay Class 10 & 12, English Essay Graduation, English Speech, Short Paragraph

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IT was a hot day and I was in a hot temper, in a crowded Mazda, called W-11, bouncing painfully, on the twists and turns of M.A. Jinnah Road, Karachi. I was standing in the narrow aisle of the jammed bus, holding a greasy, cracked and rustic iron rod that passed throughout the length of the bus.

It was crowded to the brim, yet the conductor said to the passengers standing on the bus stop “Khali hai, aajao, bohut jaga hai…,” (“It is empty, there is lots of space.”).

People ran after the fast running bus to cling to the handle even after seeing many people were still hanging out from the doors of the bus, they climbed and held the handle and hung just like Tarzan on trees. With the people cramming in the bus, the floor seemed to compress under their weight.

I gasped for air … and looked here and there for a little opening of a window. But all I could see was the crowd — the heads of passengers which were ever increasing with every stop.

If someone asks how does a crowded bus smell, the answer is simple: obnoxious. It’s a mix of smoke, body odour, smell of grease, dust, and if someone is lucky enough, fading odour of perfume, all are found there. But the smell of sweat from soaked clothes dominates them all.

A bus stop came. A person from the front seat had to get down, and he pushed the crowd mercilessly, brushing aggressively against everybody and shouted (literally!) on the way, “Roak! Abbey roak!” (“Stop, stop!”) followed by one heavy bang on the metal door of the bus. The bus halted suddenly, everyone collided with each other.

And once the bus accelerated, the voice of a woman came from the ladies’ section, “Roako bhai!” (“Stop brother!”)

I wondered why this woman didn’t descend when the bus had stopped earlier! I heard driver muttering aggressively in some unfathomable language behind the woman.

The journey started again and a child started crying. The shrill voice of the crying child pierced through the ears, perforating the ear drums. Almost immediately, someone (probably the child’s mother) screamed, “Bus kar, chamat par jaigi!” (“Stop it, I’ll slap you!”)

The child stopped crying — I could not stop smiling at the grumpy kid who gave a very stern look at her mother. He looked just like an unpredictable volcano, which may erupt explosively, any moment.

Three seats ahead of where I was standing, an aged gentleman was sitting and he found that the guy sitting next to him was his classmate at primary school, and interjected joyfully on the discovery.

Just then, a cellphone rang and the owner of the phone took it out and started talking (rather, shouting), and a discussion on some cloth material started ....

A new person — a tough guy entered the bus making his way with a pair of very heavy shopping bags in his hands and dropped one carelessly on the floor which unfortunately landed on my foot. It felt like my foot was smashed under a bulldozer. Yes, because the bags contained something metallic in them.

I held my scream and wanted to hold my foot tightly to give it some gentle pat but as there was no space to even move, I stood there bearing it. You may think why I didn’t say anything to the person. Well this was because he was tall, heavy, with a big moustache and curly beard and curly hair. He looked like a villain right out of a Pakistani movie. So would you dare?

Just then I was pushed from behind and I tumbled to the person standing in front of me. He turned and said, “Andha hai?” (“Are you blind?”)

I replied, “Sorry bhai, vo dhaka…” (“Sorry brother, that push…”)

Another voice, “Hato, raasto do,” (“Move, give me some passage.”) and another push, and the person behind me collided with the hot-headed one in front of me, and this started a commotion.

Among the many voices and sounds around me, I heard the faint voice of the conductor calling out the name of the stop I had to get off. I hurriedly tore the crowd and made my way to the exit. The men were still fighting and abusing each other, while the others in the bus were enjoying their time by looking at the heated scene. The bus slowed down because of their fight which was now getting intense.

And I found this the best time to jump out ….


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