When the bus began to move, the driver was forced to brake often owing to dense traffic. I had to bear the strain holding the handlebar. More passengers got in at subsequent bus stops and they were bundling against me. To make matters worse, the bus was moving a snail pace. I felt my blood about to boil and it was only five kilometers that we had covered in half an hour!

What was even more irritating was the conductor pushing his way through collecting the fare and some passengers leaning on me at every curb and sudden braking. The bus was jostling along at Quatre Soeurs. Packed to capacity, the bus now ceased taking more passengers but I was getting annoyed by the behavior of a drunken man who had just to come to stand behind me. I could insult him if he were sober!  I could only stare of my mother who offered me her seat which I refused. The disgusting atmosphere was getting worse with bad breath of some of the passengers. I was wondering why so many people of that type had chosen to travel on the same day and at the same time.

The bus was now rattling along Grand Port with sitting passengers too squeezed and standing ones holding tightly the handlebars. Moreover, speeding by the driver frightened me. Accidents involving speeding buses are not uncommon in this trajectory. When it came to every bend, it sent creeps through my spine. I only prayed that we reached safely our destination.

On reaching Mahebourg, the bus slowed down. I began to feel the end of my miseries.  Passengers were getting ready to get off. More passengers were getting off than getting in and my mother pressed the bell and we got off before the station. She said that we could walk a little to avoid the rush there. It was nearly noon.

I cannot forget such a very uncomfortable journey. When I related it to my aunt later, she only laughed saying that she sometimes had to bear the soiled farm workers, but I felt relieved to be there.

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