Hanging by a Door, Waiting Under a Tree : A Rural Reality Check

A few weeks back, me, my mom and my brother visited my grandma and uncle. They live in a village and the transportation opportunities are pretty scarce. Anyways, after a day filled with good food and even better grandma stories, it was time to leave. We were all set to travel, bags packed, hearts hopeful—and then the universe decided to have a little fun with us. Here’s how things unfolded, one chaos-filled step at a time.

The Tree Bus Stop and the Bike Ride

Now, let me first explain our "bus stop." It’s not what you’d usually picture. No benches, no signboards, no shed. It’s literally a spot under a tree where the bus sometimes decides to stop if it's in the mood. This magical spot is also not exactly close to home. Walking there in the heat with all our luggage was out of the question.

Thankfully, my uncle owns a Bike. Since we didn’t have a car, he volunteered to drop us off one by one. First, he took my brother, then came back to pick up my mom and me. He somehow balanced us and the bags (I still don’t know how) and dropped us under that faithful tree.

So there we stood - mom, me, and a pile of bags, sweating and squinting at the road, waiting for a bus that seemed to have forgotten we existed.

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No Buses, No Autos, No Hope

We waited for what felt like forever—probably half an hour—and there was not a single bus in sight. Out of desperation, we asked some auto drivers if they’d take us, but they all shook their heads. Apparently, our destination was too far for them.

At this point, the sun was boiling, we were tired, and morale was low. That’s when my uncle suggested a Plan B. He said, “This is a small stop, and it seems like buses hardly come here. There’s a bigger stop a few kilometers away, more chances there. I’ll drop you guys.”

But again—he could only take one person at a time on the bike. So he called a friend and asked him to come pick up my brother first.

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A Surprise Bus and the Chaos That Followed

The friend came, my brother hopped onto his bike, and off they went. Two minutes later—TWO MINUTES—out of nowhere, a bus appeared.

What timing, right?

We were literally about to get on my uncle’s bike to follow my brother when the bus rolled in. My uncle quickly told us, “You both get in now with the bags, I’ll go get Amey (my brother) and make sure he gets on at the next stop.” We nodded, scrambled onto the bus, and what a mistake that was.

This was the crappiest bus I’ve ever seen. It was small, ancient, and jam-packed. People were squished in like puzzle pieces, but somehow, mom and I (and our bags!) managed to find space to stand.

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The Locked Door and a Very Determined Uncle

At the next stop, we saw my brother and uncle waiting by the road, ready to get in. But the door—oh, that door—just wouldn’t open. People inside were pulling it, people outside were pushing it, but it refused to budge. The driver didn’t care. He just started driving again, leaving my brother and several others behind.

Inside the bus, mom started panicking. “How will he join us now? What if he can’t catch up?” she kept saying, clearly worried. And honestly, I was worried too.

But this is where my uncle became the hero of the day.

He took off on his Bullet, with my brother holding on behind him, chased the bus, overtook it, and parked the bike right in front of the moving bus to stop it. Yes, you read that right. The man blocked a government bus on the highway so his nephew could get in.

Finally On Board (Barely)

With the bus unable to move, all the people who’d been left behind managed to catch up. My uncle and another man somehow managed to pry the door open (don’t ask how, I didn’t see it, but I heard cheering). My brother finally climbed in, sweaty but safe, and we were all together again.

From there, the journey continued. It was still crowded, still hot, and the bus felt like it might fall apart at any moment. But somehow, we were on our way.

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Why is Public Transport In Indian Villages Still Stuck in the

This whole bus fiasco made me think about how painfully bad public transport is in rural India. It’s 2025, and yet, the situation looks like it’s straight out of a black-and-white Doordarshan documentary.

First off, the bus stops. Or should I say, “that random tree people stand under”? Because in most villages, that’s what a bus stop is. A patch of shade under a tree, maybe with a stone slab if you’re lucky. No shelter, no signs, no seats. You just stand there like a hopeful cactus, praying that the bus hasn’t already gone or isn’t five hours late.

And even if you do manage to stand there forever and wait, buses are few and far between. Sometimes there's one every two hours. Sometimes, none. There’s no timetable, no updates, no clue. You just wait. And wait. And sweat. And wait some more.

Now when a bus does show up—oh boy—it’s not the stuff dreams are made of. These buses look like they’ve been around since Independence (1947). Rusty metal, torn seats, windows that don’t open (or won’t shut), and doors that sometimes refuse to open at all. Safety? What’s that?

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Rural Bus

To make things worse, these ancient buses are always packed. People standing, sitting on laps, hanging by the door. I've seen someone ride half a journey while standing on the stairs with just one hand inside the bus. It’s scary and exhausting. If you're claustrophobic, good luck. And even if you're not, it's just plain uncomfortable and dangerous.

Honestly, it’s no surprise that people in villages struggle so much just to get somewhere—school, hospital, work, anything. You need patience, stamina, and a bit of luck to make it through a simple journey. And it shouldn’t be like this.

Now compare this to the cities. In urban areas, you’ve got proper bus stops with shelters, digital boards, and sometimes even charging points. Buses are frequent. Some of them are electric and even air-conditioned! You get to travel sitting comfortably, knowing the next bus is just 10 minutes away. It’s not perfect, but at least it doesn’t feel like a game of survival.

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Urban Local Bus

So why this huge gap? Why do people in villages, who also pay taxes and work just as hard (if not harder), get the short end of the stick?

Public transport isn’t a luxury—it’s a basic need. It affects everything: education, healthcare, job opportunities. Fixing village transport should be a priority. Better buses, more frequent services, proper bus stops—none of this is rocket science. It’s just a matter of will.

Until then, we’ll keep dodging potholes and praying the door doesn’t fall off mid-journey. Because hey, that’s just village life, right?