By Olivia Lyngdoh Mawlong
Of the many things that define old charm Shillong, the wooden bus, or Bos Dieng, is one. The colourful vehicles defy modernity and urbanisation to stand out amid rows of hatchbacks, SUVs and omnibuses on city roads.
There are less than 50 wooden buses in the city and most of them travel to the rural pockets of Khasi and Jaintia Hills, informs a young conductor at Anjalee terminus.
Conical cane baskets, locally called khoh, filled with vegetables, fruits and other items of small trade in city markets hang nonchalantly at the back of the yellow and blue buses which enter the city early in the morning. The humans cramped inside stare out of the square wooden frames to the day’s possibility.
In the evening, the empty baskets dangle carelessly after the day’s business. Profit or loss, the villagers are happy to return home. In the morning they come with goods from their villages and in the evening they take back goods from Iewduh to sell in their village shops.
Phristar Kharmujai, who has been ferrying these hapless villagers for the past 20 years, says these wooden buses, which have been plying in the city for over five decades now, are lifeline for the rural populace.
“These buses have cheaper fare than Sumos or taxis,” says the 66-year-old driver as he gets ready to start the Smit-bound vehicle. The passengers sitting inside the cabin, which looks like a cage without a door, agree.
The wooden buses, which start from Anjalee terminus, go to several places like Smit, Mawkyrwat, Mawsynram, Nongspung and Jowai, to name a few.
Pawbok Kharsati, whose family owns a wooden bus that gives him the opportunity for a part-time job as conductor, says these buses are convenient because they can take the load.
“You see most of these buses are packed to the rafters and their rooftops are also quite full with luggage. The MTDC buses with their plush look can never endure such weight,” the 24-year-old student of Radiology chortles and bangs on the dashboard of the six-year-old bus to prove its durability.
Two types of wooden buses, line and city, ply every day. While line buses, which are 6 to 7 in number, go for two trips, city buses, around 15 of them, run throughout the day. Sdington Pyngrope, who drives everyday to Smit, says the wooden buses, though old, are stronger and the engines too are good.
“The bus that I am driving is 30 years old and was repaired only once,” says 57-year-old Pyngrope as he waits for the passengers to get down at Smit.
Kharmujai informs that no new buses are made these days and only the old ones are repaired or their frames are changed. While some of the buses look rickety and really old to take the weight, others have gaudy decorations. Some are shaped like Bedford buses giving it a heritage look.
“In my 20 years as a bus driver I have seen a big change and these buses are reducing with time. They will vanish one day as modern buses and vehicles are taking over city and village roads. The number of Sumos has also increased,” says Kharumjai.
The passengers sitting near him look concerned.
“We don’t want these buses to go. It will be a problem for poor vendors like us,” says Shiningstar Kharumjai, a middle-aged passenger from Smit.
“It will be sad if these buses go away. We feel more comfortable in these vehicles as they are more spacious,” a passenger said.
With the buses, a part of the old charm will vanish but that will only be a collateral damage caused by the onslaught of development. The government too seems oblivious to the plight of the common man and his common ride. Most importantly it is reluctant to preserve the heritage transport in the city, which, with proper presentation, can become a tourist attraction.
(With inputs from Nabamita Mitra)