Till a few years ago a typical ‘Delhi darshan’ for visiting friends and relatives would be topped with a ride aboard the piece de resistance, the Metro. Then Kerala announced its own which has been raking up plenty of muck – and not just during the monsoon – and causing enough choke and congestion that it came to be viewed with a pathological dislike my fellow-Madrasis generally reserve for Malaysian rubber exporters. As luck would have it nearly five years back the HoHo stopped by.
In…action
The best part of the ‘hop on hop off’ bus service is that the buses are actually what they claim to be – panoramic windows, air conditioned and the clincher low floors; this time the guests were my own sprightly folks with not-so-sprightly knees. The timings too are tolerably well-kept going by Delhi traffic; thankfully Kejriwal is running his office well, from his office. Though there were many murmuring – including my mom – at having to pay for bottled water on board I found it a refreshing change from the usual government gigs where plastic bottles are doled out like there is no tomorrow. The tourist guide introduced himself and we were off on the dot. A capacity bus, ears pricked for all that wonderful history radiating in every direction from the Connaught Place.
First stop: National Bal Bhavan.
“Children are sure to have a great time here,” the guide said. “Your little ones will find a lot of happiness and enjoyment at the Bal Bhavan,” he added a bit vaguely but with lot of promise. All the kids on the bus milled around the exit even before it came to a stop. Their parents followed with water bottles and half-eaten biscuit packets and shaking heads. As soon as the bus stopped the tots squealed with delight all the way to the Bhavan gates like mice to cheese. But the security guard had strict orders not to allow anybody else other than the heads of Bal Bhavans from all over the country through who were conferencing there that day (March 24, 2015). The kids trooped back, heads hung in dejection. We rolled on a lot quieter.
“So who knows the full form of ‘news’ in newspaper?” The guide asked. Probably his idea of cheering up those denied entry at the earlier destination. It didn’t matter the next stop was the history-laden Firoz Shah Kotla. It didn’t matter it was part of the fortified Ferozabad, the once-capital of Delhi Sultanate. Even the Asoka Pillar that towered over the ruins, with inscriptions that remained un-deciphered for a long time, didn’t impress our ‘informative on-board guide.’ He, on the other hand, grinned with glee when somebody supplied ‘north, east, west, south.’ But the last laugh had to be his.
“Good, but who knows what ‘paper’ stands for?” The ‘entertaining on-board guide’ asked. The bus stopped outside the Kotla by then.
Now, the door closest to where we sat was the middle one and we waited for it to open.
Looking forward, Amrita
“Past and present events reported,” the guide said and chuckled with great mirth. Those on board the bus trying to make up their minds about visiting the Kotla from the guide’s narrative were a little shorn of necessary information.
“Great, now can you open this door please?” I asked.
“No, that door is never opened,” he managed to chortle out in between chuckles.
“You may complain to the management if you have a problem,” the driver added on our way out through the front door.
The guide during a later leg – a lady this time – held her microphone with all the enthusiasm of a beachcomber holding decayed driftwood; it didn’t really matter if it floated away with the ebbing water. The entire stretch till the National Gallery of Modern Art went by with not an utter. But she sidled up to the driver and said that she had ‘never done it before.’ I had already begun looking forward to seeing – and showing off to my folks – the fabulous Amrita Sher-Gil that I wondered only slightly what the guide might have been talking about. I was also sure by now that none of the buses opened the middle door even if you were hobbling on and hobbling off.
From the NGMA we took an auto rickshaw to the Baba Kharak Singh Marg – from where we began our HoHo ride that morning. We paid a fourth of the ticket price for the ride and had covered just a third of the ‘red route.’
Logo courtesy: HoHo website
Wanderink recommends
Delhi authorities should not overlook the potential of the HoHo service as brand ambassadors of not just the capital’s tourism but its overall hospitality image. This means appointing at least adequately trained tourist guides on board these buses. By ‘adequately’ trained also means speaking tolerable English.
And for god sake, please open that darned middle door!
