My father may not be too happy to read this, but the fact remains that BEST drivers make a commendable effort to manoeuvre the big red machines on Mumbai's roads.
They are often accused of rash driving. Ameya Bhise takes a bus from Borivli to Sewri to find out
Just a week ago my father came home from work fuming. His car's rear-view mirror was broken.
The culprit, he said, was a BEST bus driver who got too close for comfort. Now here I was, the incident fresh in my mind, sitting next to a BEST driver watching him do his job on Mumbai's mean streets.
Usually a railway commuter, I was taking a bus after almost a year. I boarded a single-decker on route 40 from Borivli at 11:30am. The bus was headed for Sewri.
The journey started off rather well, with me bagging the seat next to the driver, which is reserved for the handicapped. Now I could closely observe the balding, 40-something man with a salt-and-pepper moustache.
The first thing I noticed was the hands-free earphone he had plugged in. He was humming songs in between huge yawns.
After a couple of stops, I saw him reach into his pocket and draw out a small packet of chewing tobacco, which he put in his mouth. He did this ritual a couple of times more, once even letting go of the steering wheel.
Though he was occupied with all these things, never once did I see him take his eyes off the road. I tried to start a conversation with him a couple of times, but he shrugged me off.
He was cutting lanes regularly (something associated with BEST drivers) and honked a million times through the journey. But I soon realised he was being forced into these things.
Every time he cut a lane or honked, I could see that a biker, an autorickshaw, or a car was at fault. They would be precariously close to the bus, overtake from the left, or just spring out of nowhere. I noticed that the driver was mostly obeying the traffic rules, be it driving in the left lane or using indicators while changing lanes.
The man was quite patient when it came to passengers. Whenever he saw one running towards the bus stop, he would wait. He tried to avoid potholes for the convenience of the passengers. He guided a blind lady off the bus, waiting till she had alighted and climbed on to the adjacent footpath.
The only time I saw him lose his head and get into a spat was after driving through the traffic for almost an hour. At a signal in Bandra, he exchanged some rough words with an ST bus driver who wanted to turn left and was in the extreme right lane.
The journey from Borivli to Sewri took 110 minutes, a good half-hour more than it would have taken me by train. For me it was just one day. For the man at the wheel, it was something he had to do day in, day out.
And with the kind of uncivilised traffic he had to drive through, it was quite commendable that he held his nerve, save the occasional glare.
My father may not be too happy to read this, but the fact remains that BEST drivers make a commendable effort to manoeuvre the big red machines on Mumbai's roads.
b_ameya@dnaindia.net 
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