“Time spent in India has an extraordinary effect on one,” Tahir Shah once said. Clearly, he never spent much time at an Indian bus station, where “extraordinary” can quickly translate to anger, frustration, or confusion. I kid, but just barely.
At 6:00 AM, my cousin and I found ourselves navigating the bustling chaos of the Hyderabad city bus terminal. Buses, cars, rickshaws, carts, and people of all shapes and sizes surged through the space, making it difficult for us to stay together. My cousin, a local, assured me everything was fine, but his confused expression mirrored my own.
We sought directions, only to receive conflicting ones repeatedly. As buses whizzed by, indifferent to our presence, we struggled to locate ours. We finally spotted what seemed to be our 5:30 AM bus, arriving an hour late and already packed to the brim. People clung to the doors, making any thought of squeezing in a daunting prospect.
My cousin spoke with the information booth in various languages, none of which I understood. My grasp of Urdu is poor, and my Telugu is nonexistent. After a meal and more wandering, we concluded by 8:00 AM that the 6:30 AM bus was a no-show.
“Plan B?” I asked.
He mentioned something about heading to some hills or a jungle—sounded intriguing. Traveling in India often means I hardly get to explore, despite my deep love for my family there. This adventure promised a change.
Relying on a bus and a prayer, we embarked on a journey to an unknown destination. How anyone navigates the local bus system here is beyond me; maybe the squiggly lines on the bus signs actually mean something. The experience was half the fun, involving jumping onto or off buses still in motion. I was perfecting the art of leaping onto a bus without hurting myself.
After a series of bus connections and minor injuries, we ended up in a small village bus station, opposite the Indian equivalent of Starbucks (Cafe Coffee Day). With the arrival of actual Starbucks in India, I wasn’t sure what to call it anymore.
A note to Cafe Coffee Day: If you tell someone you have change, don’t wait until after the order to reveal you don’t. Ugh, maybe I’d prefer Starbucks after all.
The area was modest, with dirt roads and a large Hindu temple drawing various groups. As we sipped our coffee and hot chocolate, we watched our bus arrive and then immediately depart. Easy come, easy go.
Thankfully, my cousin’s calm demeanor found us another bus heading in the general direction. We traversed several towns, some remarkably underdeveloped compared to Hyderabad’s high-tech boom. My cousin pointed out the differences, attributing them to the uneven distribution of funds between Telengana and Andhra Pradesh, which fueled local tensions.
We were dropped off on a dusty road and wandered around. I attempted to capture a photo of a distant building, possibly a school. After more bus-watching and running to catch ours, we embarked on the final leg to the jungle, costing us only 30 Rupees each (about 0.50 USD). I longed for the fresh air of the outdoors after enduring diesel fumes and crowded buses.
As a child, I loved “The Jungle Book” and dreamt of Indian jungles filled with characters like Rikki-Tikki-Tavi and Mowgli. Reality, however, was different. “This is the jungle?” I asked.
“It’s not the real jungle,” my cousin admitted.
“So, what are we doing here?”
I felt a bit tricked. We were dropped off near small stores, restaurants, and a large Hindu temple, essentially anywhere in rural India. We followed a trail past several temples and other tourists, enjoying the day despite the bugs. I joked about tigers, sizing up my cousin to see if I could outrun him if necessary.
After trekking through the woods, hopping over streams, and climbing hills (while nearly falling), we had seen everything there was to see. The real joy came from spending the day with my cousin, someone I had only met twice before. Our bond had grown—first meeting as boys 20 years ago, then again seven years prior, and now exploring together in 2014.
It had been two decades since I ventured outside Hyderabad, and this trip was a refreshing change. As we chased the last bus, trying to flag it down, I realized it had been a wonderful day spent outdoors, deepening our connection.