Travels and Travails

By Noopur

Yesterday, Camila and I went to visit one of the three primary schools established by the Navsarjan Trust for Dalit children for their education from 5^th-8^th grade. The school itself was wonderful, and we had an amazing time seeing the facilities and being inspired by both the enthusiastic teachers and the intelligent children. However, our travels to and from the site were a different kind of wonderful, an interesting and more traditional experience of the utilization of public transportation by most Gujaratis, particularly those from the rural villages.

We stepped outside DSK with our guide, a Navsarjan Trust employee who is the coordinator of all the schools, and about ten minutes later, she flagged down a seemingly full extended autorikshaw, a vehicle which seemed large enough to seat six comfortably but instead had 12 individuals crammed into the small space. We were astonished when the driver agreed to take us, and the game of musical chairs began, to accommodate the three women who would be added to the crowd. Two men stepped out of the rikshaw, and instead of being able to have another seat, one climbed onto the luggage carrier on the top of the rickshaw, and another simply hung on to the side for the duration of his journey. As for us, we were squeezed tightly on a bench made for perhaps one or two people, and Camila was so scared that I was going to fall out that she had a protective hand on my leg, pulling me into her, at all times. After being insulated in closed taxi cabs, flights, and private cars for the duration of our trip, it was an exhilarating experience being in a more open-air vehicle, even crammed into a small space with more than double the amount of people that should be present.

So we were dropped off by the auto-rickshaw at the “bus stand.” When this bus stand was first explained to us, Camila and I imagined a traditional Western bus station, where busses would be coming by a regular time table, and one would be able to see their route, or at least their final destination, through some kind of set plan so as to easily determine which bus should be taken. However, I suppose we forgot we were in India. This “bus stand” would be better described as a large intersection where you must flag down a bus going by, explain where you want to go and occasionally persuade the ticket collector to take you to your destination, with some haggling of price afterwards.

Our guide said we got lucky with our selection of a bus- it was a direct bus, so would not stop so much along the way, and the three of us fit comfortably on a cushioned bench seat directly behind the driver where we were able to see all of the scenery and road through the expanse of the windshield. I, who was quite certain would need to listen to music or take medication during the trip, found myself enjoying the ride, the wind coming in through the windows, and the gorgeous expanses of land and farms that we saw as we were speeding by. The beautiful land, hundreds upon hundreds of acres of it, rightfully belongs to many of the Dalit people in this region; however darbars have encroached on the land and taken possession of it, to the economic detriment of the Dalits in this part of Gujarat. We decided that tomorrow, we would meet with one of the land rights workers, and have them explain the situation of illegal land possession, and how Navsarjan is legally regaining the land and restoring it to its proper owners.

For our journey back, we simply stood outside the school, which is located right off the highway, and our guide and one of the school’s teachers tried to flag down a bus or a rikshaw to take us back to the “bus stand.” One of the most interesting situations occurred when I saw a bus labeled “Patel” in the distance coming towards us, and for the first time, both our guide and the teacher dropped their hands and did not bother to try to stop the bus. I wondered why that was the case, then realized that Patel is a traditionally high-caste Gujarati surname, and both individuals probably thought it was unlikely that such a bus would stop outside a known Dalit school to pick up passengers. It was our first time seeing clear-cut discrimination against Dalits in front of our own eyes; we have been so insulated and immersed within the Dalit community that we had never before seen their treatment at the hands of any upper-caste individuals.

After we finally boarded a bus, the conductor informed us that they could not take us all the way, but would drop us off at a location where we could get another bus. When we disembarked at a very rural village, it immediately became apparent that we would not find a vehicle immediately- every jeep, rickshaw and bus that passed us was either actually completely full or unwilling to stop to pick us up. While we were waiting, Camila, our guide and I managed to get soft drinks and finish them, select and purchase cookies and crackers, and Camila even bargained a little for bananas. We managed to find enough to keep ourselves occupied during the seemingly lengthy waiting period before we found a bus to pick us up. However, as we looked around the village, we saw many individuals who weren’t doing anything at all, and many of them appeared to have been in that stationary position for quite some time. It was no longer surprising to me that every one of these people were men- there was not a woman to be seen in the area that was simply sitting and doing no work. In so many ways, it becomes increasingly apparent that women are the ones who do most, if not all of the work of the family, both in terms of taking care of the household chores as well as serving their husbands and in-laws and often bringing in the money as well. Their subservient roles in society as well as their increasing familial and economic burdens do not allow them to take a break, but their husbands, who do not have anything to do because the women work so hard, are permitted to luxuriate in their extended leisure time.

While we were in the very small rural village waiting for a means to take us to the bus station, we noticed that open-air rickshaws, essentially flat metal bed carts, were often available. When we asked if we could take one of them, emphasizing that we didn’t particularly care about comfort, our guide first told us that they were not made for long journeys, and we had a ways to go. Later, she clarified by saying that these metal open-air rickshaws are extremely unsafe, particularly in light of the fact that there are many accidents that take place on the highway, and without any structure or shock absorbers, we could be seriously injured should anything happen. After we finally squeezed ourselves in a jeep (Camila and I had to count a few times to realize that yes, a car that should have held 11 people actually had twenty-five individuals crammed into the vehicle, including men hanging from the doors and on the luggage carrier!), our guide spoke further. “Yes, also see these men hanging onto the side of the?” she said. “If for some reason they let go while we are moving, they’re done.” I was astonished at both the concept and the matter-of-fact tone, but for her, it was a common idea, nothing too radical, one of the daily potentially dangerous situations that can take place while riding public transportation in these areas despite the existence of traffic laws.

I think this was our one and only opportunity to be able to do something like this- without a guide, we wouldn’t have been able to catch these versions of public transportation, and tomorrow, our last day here, when we meet with the land rights worker, we will be taking a private taxi again. However, Camila and I had an amazing adventurous experience, and enjoyed our interactions with people and the environment in rural Gujarat as we traveled together on traditional forms of public transportation.