Stranded in strange delight

I wander until I realise I have no idea where I am. I stop abruptly and turn around, as if to find a miraculous trail of breadcrumbs in my wake. Even if there was one, it would have disappeared under the ubiquitous pigeons — something I never associated with India but there you go, they’re everywhere.

“Damn pigeons,” I think. “How am I going to get back to the bus?”

Said bus is departing at 3.20pm for Goa and my seat is booked. Suddenly, all the frustration and exhaustion from the long journey, bag saga and grotty hotel room erupt and I wilt against a street lamp and sob.

It’s a rather pathetic scene, thankfully brought to an end by an elderly bespectacled man with a bristly moustache.

He puts a hand on my shoulder while I regain self-control and says in a soft and wonderfully rounded cadence, “Tell me, what is problem?”

I try to explain that I am lost, but his minimal English and my non-existent Hindi result in a game of charades — I look around, trying to mimic confusion; the poor man looks at me with a crinkled brow that perfectly captures the notion I am trying to convey.

Eventually, I get my bus ticket out of my wallet.

His face breaks into a smile and he indicates I should follow him. Prabhu, my saviour, turns out to be the owner of a small street stall selling crisps, gum and Indian sweetmeats. With a flourish, he brings out a pen and a battered accounts book from which he carefully tears a piece of lined paper. Leaning on the counter, he draws me a map to my bus. At this kindness, I almost start crying again, but instead buy an array of sweetmeats, which Prabhu helps me choose.

With unreserved relief, I find Jollybus 9368. Sitting down in my hideously patterned bus seat, I absent-mindedly start nibbling a sweetmeat from the paper bag.

“Once in Royal David’s City” is playing faintly in my head as I survey the evermoving madness outside my bus window. Delightfully strange indeed. — © Catherine Rudolph

Do you have a funny or quirky story about your travels? Send 600 words to travelmag@sundaytimes.co.za.