from Madurai to Rameshwaram by bus

This is an email that I’d posted to a list of friends on the 13th of February, 2003 on returning back home from after a months backpacking through the south of India. It brought back memories:

There are no private buses that run from Madurai to
Rameshwaram. Not that I know of. One has to board a
bus from the government bus-stand (the new bus stand)
around 8 kilometers away from the railway station (in
Madurai).

Government bus-stands in the south could get extremely
overwhelming to say the least. Lot’s of people. Buses,
well try finding out which one’s the one for you. A
lot of time is going to pass you by before you pin
point a bus heading towards your destination.

Unless it’s a special route that runs just once or
twice a day; there are buses from Madurai to
Rameshwaram every quarter of an hour or so; you do not
need to have a reservation in advance. A conductor
inside the bus issues you the ticket in exchange of
the fare.

These are government buses remember.

This whole stage and the pandemonium that’s attached
with it is the perfect setting for one breed of
leaches to thrive on – ‘Tour and Travel Operators’.
Their agents; all over (the bus-stand) waiting – eyes
wide open, ears sharp as a razor surveying the area
from corner to corner for inexperienced tourists.

They approach you, “Yes, where you want to go please?”

It’s the survival of the fittest. The weak fall down.
Within seconds they find themselves following a slimy
leach trail. He (the agent) takes you to their
dwelling place – a small travel agency comparable to a
‘hole in the wall’ and well within the bus-stand
premises. Laminated photographs of luxury buses bring
a smile on to your face.

“It would cost you eighty rupees to get from here
(Madurai) to Rameshwaram. Our man will walk you to the
bus and direct you to your seat.”

After a long walk, or having changed a couple of city
buses to get to the main bus stand, a line like that
sounds like music. It is harmonic.

That’s not all. He tells you more. “Let me give you
the breakup”, he says. “It’s fifty rupees for the
ticket. We charge a commission of fifteen rupees. You
pay fifteen more rupees as toll to use a newly built
bridge. The grand total adds up to eighty rupees.”

There’s a lot of hype about this newly built bridge
that flies over a water body, saving you some time and
effort of having to cross it by ferry.

Upon payment, the agent asks an alias to accompany you
to the bus. This man offers to carry your bags. He
gets into the bus and points to a vacant seat. It’s no
luxury bus this one. His next task is to hand over
fifty rupees to the conductor and issue a ticket for
you. He demands a tip for his efforts.

Every other passenger did the three and a half hour
journey at a cost of fifty rupees. Well, I may have
had to shell out an extra thirty five rupees; but you
know what I enjoyed writing this article.

Six years hence, I write differently.