R.I.P. 'BLUE LOAF'

Blue is one of my favourite colours. It was't back then.
As kids, we (my siblings, cousins and schoolmates from back home) have these memories that time can never erase.

My earliest memory is of the blue state road transport bus that used to rumble down the dusty roads of Mangan, my home town, once a day. We were in awe of this huge vehicle, coming as we did from a place where there was hardly any traffic then. We used to often hang around the bus stop below my uncle's house and hail the arrival of the Mangan bus from capital Gangtok. "City bus aiyo, city bus aiyo" (The city bus has come, the city bus has come) we used to sing.

Then things changed, we grew up and had to leave our safe haven to get some education in far away Gangtok, which took five hours to reach in those days.

Our first lesson was the longest and the toughest. How to board, find a seat and survive the journey in "the city bus", our childhood fascination. Blue in colour and shaped like a fat loaf of bread.

We invariably managed to land up sitting close to the driver's seat, next to the engine, and it can really get pretty hot and stuffy out there.

We took turns sitting beside the window, except for one junior family member who refused to budge once she got her turn.

We had to travel in our school uniform, making it doubly uncomfortable. As aptly put by a fellow passenger, we looked like "statues made out of the same clay".

Strangely enough, everyone else in the bus seemed to be in high spirits, especially my dad who always landed up sitting on someone else's bag of rice, basket, box, etc. due to shortage of seats. But he never complained.

Several times during the journey we had to disembark as the hill road was too steep at places and the "Blue Loaf" over-loaded. We were the first ones out as dad wouldn't take a chance, even though the driver insisted the kids could stay inside. The fresh air was a short yet sweet break.

Holidays were welcome but the journey was always a torture. My sister's head used to start reeling at the thought of the impending travel and she used to even start throwing up on the eve of the journey.

As we grew up the traffic slowly increased and other modes of travel became available.

The "Blue Loaf" was eventually decommissioned, but it remained embedded in our collective memories.

Now, thirty years later, when I look back on my childhood, I realise that I was never grateful to the only means of transport that enabled me to move on from quaint little Mangan into the big wide world.
Thank you "Blue Loaf". R.I.P.