One Red Bus, One Movie, and a Journey Back                                 in Time

                                   Sometimes, days are like never before or after.

One Red Bus(KSRTC) Journey

Just when you think you are finally going to have a day without much stress, somehow you end up having more. One of those days was today.

The original plan was simple. I was supposed to travel to my hometown, but work had other plans and the whole idea came to a full stop. Finally, I decided, Okay, let me travel tomorrow early morning.

You know how it is when you work in IT. What you plan and what actually happens are usually two different things.

So, the next day—that is today—I started with a very optimistic plan. Leave early, reach early.

With that confidence, I travelled all the way from Whitefield to Satellite Bus Stand. In my mind, everything was already planned. I would reach there, get an Airavata or one of those luxury KSRTC buses, sit comfortably and travel to my hometown.

But destiny had a slightly different idea.

The moment I reached Satellite Bus Stand, I could see the crowd. Actually, I had already got a small hint while waiting for the auto itself. There were too many people heading in the same direction, and somewhere in my mind I thought, Okay… today may not be that easy.

The moment I entered the KSRTC Satellite Bus Stand, for a few seconds, I felt like I had gone many years back.

Back to Those Red Bus Days

There was a time when this red KSRTC bus was almost my weekend partner.

Friday night, start from Bengaluru and reach Hassan. Spend the weekend there. Monday morning, catch one of the first buses, sometimes around 4 AM, and come back to Bengaluru.

That was the routine.

And festival days? That was a completely different experience.

Bus stands would look like some mass public gathering. People everywhere. Bags, families, children, shouting, conductors calling destinations and everyone waiting for that one bus.

The moment the bus arrived, getting a seat itself was an achievement.

You had to judge where the bus would stop, move along with the crowd, somehow get inside and capture a seat. Sometimes just entering the bus itself would make you feel you had won something.

I was also one among them.

Standing there today after so many years brought all those memories back.

Of course, I have travelled in KSRTC buses many times after that, but slowly it had become mostly Airavata, Sleeper bus, Ambari  and other luxury buses. The normal red bus had almost disappeared from my travel routine.

But today, after all my attempts to find a luxury bus failed, there I was again, standing in a queue for the red KSRTC bus.

And what a queue it was.

It felt almost a kilometre long.

Still, I stood there thinking, Okay, somehow let me get into the bus first.

By the time I finally got the ticket and settled down, almost one hour had gone just standing in the queue.

The bus would not start until everyone was issued tickets, so there was nothing much to do except sit and wait.

That is when OTT came to my rescue.

A Movie I Was Not Planning to Watch

While scrolling through the recent releases, I came across a Malayalam movie that had been getting quite a lot of attention—Bethlehem Kudumba Unit.

I have always liked Nivin Pauly.

There is something about his acting that connects naturally. Especially in these simple, feel-good movies, he somehow carries a special vibe. He doesn’t always need those larger-than-life scenes. Even a normal conversation or expression works for him.

His previous movie had also worked well for me, so I thought, Fine, anyway I am stuck here. Let me use this time.

And the movie started.

What a movie.

The story itself is actually quite simple. Ashley moves into a new neighbourhood and slowly gets to know Justin, an older unmarried neighbour. From those slightly awkward meetings, conversations, family members and people around them, a relationship slowly begins to take shape. The age difference between them becomes part of the story, but the movie doesn’t try to turn everything into some huge drama. It just lets these people talk, react, misunderstand, laugh and slowly understand each other.

That is where the writing worked for me.

Sometimes you don’t need a story with ten twists. Give a simple story to the right people, write the screenplay well and allow the characters to behave naturally—that itself can become such a good movie.

And then I realised it is from Girish A.D., the director behind Premalu. Fahadh Faasil, Dileesh Pothan and Syam Pushkaran are among the producers through Bhavana Studios, and the movie has already gone beyond ₹300 crore worldwide.

Then I understood why there was so much talk about it.

But there was one particular scene I simply loved.

There is a point where the heroine proposes, and Justin is this kind of character who doesn’t always immediately say everything running in his mind.

He goes away.

Then he comes back in his red car and asks her to get inside.

And now the conversation starts.

Hold on…

I am not going to tell you what happens.

Go and watch it.

But watch that scene carefully.

The proposal, the silence, the conversation inside the car, those expressions, that small smile…and somewhere in between, the car gives that small jerk towards the right and becomes steady again.

Such a tiny thing.

But I loved it.

Nothing overdone. No unnecessary buildup. The conversation, expressions, awkwardness, small smile and love—all packed into one scene.

For me, that was one of the best moments in the movie.

Meanwhile, I Was Still on the Road

By the time the movie finished, I looked at the time.

11:30 AM.

And I was still somewhere on the Mysuru Expressway.

That itself tells you what kind of traffic it was.

This is an expressway where vehicles normally fly at 90, 100 or even more. But today there was this long line of cars moving somewhere in their 30s and 40s.

For everyone sitting in those cars, I am sure it was frustrating.

Strangely, for me, something nice happened.

After a long time, I was sitting inside a red KSRTC bus, next to the window.

And maybe because the bus wasn’t zooming, I actually started looking outside.

The World Outside the Expressway

World outside the Expressway

Most of the time when I travel on this road by car, the focus is different.

Road.

Traffic.

Speed.

Overtake.

Reach quickly.

At 90 or 100 kmph, everything outside the expressway just passes like a background.

Today, at 30 or 40, that background became visible.

There was actually a world outside this expressway.

Small roads running alongside it. Houses that I had probably crossed many times without noticing. Fields. Shops. Trees. People standing outside. Villages sitting quietly while thousands of vehicles rushed past them.

Maybe I had seen all of this before.

But I don’t think I had noticed it.

I was also surprised by how much had changed around this route in the last seven years. Places which once looked empty now had buildings. New shops had appeared. Roads had changed. Some familiar stretches were almost unrecognisable.

Funny thing is, sometimes travelling slowly shows you more than travelling fast.

And somewhere in between all this, I also started observing the bus itself.

Even the Red Bus Has Changed

A lot has changed in Karnataka Sarige too.

The red bus I remembered from years ago was much more basic.

Now there are better doors, CCTV cameras, speed monitoring, SOS switches and several other safety improvements.

The bus has moved forward.

Technology has moved forward.

Infrastructure has moved forward.

But one thing, unfortunately, still needs some improvement.

Us.

The way we keep public transport.

You could still see people leaving wrappers, bottles and other waste inside the bus. Some things were simply thrown around without a second thought.

And that made me think.

These buses, trains and public facilities don’t come from somewhere else. It is finally our own tax money coming back to us in another form.

We complain when buses are dirty.

We complain when trains are not maintained.

We complain when public places don’t look like the ones we see in some other countries.

But somewhere, we also have to ask ourselves a very small question.

How are we treating what we already have?

Maybe the government can provide a better bus.

They can install CCTV.

They can add SOS buttons.

They can improve safety.

They can build expressways where we can travel at 100 kmph.

But keeping the seat clean, putting a wrapper into a dustbin instead of below the seat, and treating a public bus like something that belongs to us—that part cannot come through technology.

That has to come from us.

What started as a frustrating travel day somehow became a little different.

A cancelled plan.

A long journey from Whitefield.

A crowded bus stand.

A red KSRTC bus that brought back memories.

A surprisingly good Malayalam movie.

And a slow journey on a road where I usually travel fast.

Maybe everything did not go according to my plan today.

But because it didn’t, after many years, I travelled again in that familiar red bus…and noticed a few things that I had been passing without seeing.

Note: The movie references in this story are based purely on my personal viewing experience and opinion. I have kept the discussion mostly spoiler-free. Movie names and characters belong to their respective owners.

 

The Hero Who Lived Next Door

The Hero Who Lived Next Door

Sometimes, we search for heroes in movies and books. We watch their stories, get inspired by their courage, and think heroes are people who do extraordinary things.

But many times, we don’t realise that some heroes are already living among us.

They don’t wear a uniform. They don’t have background music playing when they arrive. Nobody may even know what they have done.

They are just ordinary people who become extraordinary when someone needs them.

This is one such real story. A story that may take a little time to digest, because when everything is over and you think about what could have happened, you realise how differently that day could have ended.

To keep the people and relationships private, I am taking you to a place that may resemble somewhere you know, but you will probably never find it on a map.

Now, if you like to hear stories in my way, hop in and put your seat belt on.

Let us take a small drive before we reach the story.

Imagine an evening somewhere in the middle of the Western Ghats. There is a light rain outside. The road is wet, surrounded by green, and every few kilometres another curve is waiting for you. You are driving slowly, maybe around 40 or 50 kmph, while some beautiful old melodies are playing on the car stereo.

Keep the window half open.

Every now and then, tiny rain droplets splash onto your face. The air coming through the window is cool and fresh, carrying that smell which comes only when rain touches trees and soil.

Now relax.

Visualise it in your own way.

Come, let us go to the story. 

A Normal Family, A Normal Morning

There lived a family in a fairly big city. Not as big or heavily populated as Bengaluru, but still busy enough with concrete buildings, traffic and people always running behind something.

The husband had his own CA firm.

He was a busy man. For him, work was almost like worship. He spent a lot of time working, probably because when you have struggled through life and built something without shortcuts, you somehow become very attached to it. Hard work becomes part of your daily routine.

His wife was a homemaker. Her world mostly revolved around their two little children, aged around five and two.

His mother was also staying with them, but around this time she had gone to visit her elder son’s family in another city.

That morning started like any other day.

The husband left for his office. Their elder child went to school.

At home, it was just the mother and the younger daughter.

Nothing about that morning gave any indication that, within a few minutes, this family would be facing something none of them had expected.

“Amma, Let’s Go Down”

Amma, Lets Go Down

The little girl had her own routine.

Like many small children, she loved going to the terrace. That was her little playground. Usually, mother and daughter would spend some time there between around 9:00 and 10:30 in the morning.

That day also, they went upstairs and played as usual.

Around 10:30 AM, the little girl had enough.

She told her mother that she wanted to go back home and play inside.

So both of them started walking down the staircase.

For some reason, the daughter went a little ahead of her mother.

Children do that.

One moment they are beside you, and the next moment their tiny legs have already taken them several steps ahead.

Within seconds, she had reached near the front door.

Then she stopped.

She noticed something close to the entrance.

In her own little words, she started describing it to her mother.

Her mother was still coming down the stairs and didn’t think much about it. From whatever the child was describing, she thought it might be a small snail or some little creature near the door.

After all, this was a house close to the main road, surrounded mostly by a concrete jungle. There were not many trees or gardens around where you would expect much wildlife.

Her mother came closer.

Another few seconds passed.

Then she looked properly.

That was not a snail.

It was a snake.

The First Thought Was Her Daughter

There was hardly any time to think.

Her first instinct was simple.

Protect the child.

The mother tried to open the door, thinking that if they moved inside, perhaps the snake would get disturbed and move away in another direction.

But sometimes, when we try to solve one problem quickly, the situation takes a completely different turn.

The door opened.

And instead of moving away, the snake entered the house.

In seconds, it disappeared into the hall and went below the TV stand.

Now imagine the situation.

A mother standing there with her two-year-old daughter.

A snake somewhere under the TV stand.

No one else at home.

And you don’t even know what kind of snake it is.

Initially, she thought it could be a small rat snake or some harmless young snake. It was tiny, after all.

Still, she knew she could not take any chance.

Very carefully, she tried moving the TV stand slightly to see where it had gone.

That was when the situation changed.

The little snake raised its head.

Its hood opened.

And it hissed.

Only then did she realise what she was looking at.

A very young spectacled cobra.

Small in size, yes.

But definitely not something anyone would want to handle casually.

For a few seconds, fear completely took over.

A Phone Call That Changed Everything

When something like this happens, sometimes you don’t even know whom to call first.

She called her mother-in-law.

Her mother-in-law was in another city. There was no way she could physically come and help.

But sometimes, even from hundreds of kilometres away, one person can still change what happens next.

The mother-in-law listened to her.

She understood the situation.

And instead of panicking, she started thinking.

That presence of mind made the difference.

She immediately called the neighbour living just behind their house.

At the same time, she asked her daughter-in-law to call the nearby aunty and simply ask her to send uncle over because they needed urgent help.

Interestingly, she didn’t explain the whole snake story.

Probably there was no time for a long conversation.

Just one message.

“Ask uncle to come once. It is urgent.”

And sometimes, when there is a real need, help comes from a place very close to us.

In this case, literally from the house next door.

Uncle Arrived

The neighbour whom everyone called “uncle” was an animal lover.

A die-hard one.

They had two beautiful dogs who were like family to them, and he was also someone who loved nature and animals. More importantly, he was the kind of person who would come when somebody needed help.

Only a compound wall separated the two houses.

He understood that this was not a normal call.

And when he came, he didn’t come empty-handed.

He walked in carrying a bag and a snake-handling tool.

That itself gave the family some confidence.

By then, the mother-in-law had also informed her son.

The moment he heard what was happening at home, everything else became secondary.

He left his work and rushed back.

By the time he reached, uncle was already preparing to handle the snake.

Everyone knew one thing.

If that small cobra managed to enter one of the bedrooms, hide behind a cupboard, or disappear into some corner of the house, finding it again would become much more difficult.

So they needed to act carefully.

Not fast.

Carefully.

A Few Very Long Minutes

A Few Very Long Minutes

Uncle asked them to bring a small bucket with a proper lid.

Then he slowly approached the cobra.

What followed probably lasted only a few minutes.

But for the family watching it, those few minutes must have felt much longer.

The cobra was small, alert and defensive.

Uncle was equally alert.

There was no intention to hit it or hurt it. His aim was to control the situation, protect the family, and also make sure the snake came out safely.

He knew he was dealing with a living creature that was probably frightened too.

Slowly, using the snake-handling tool, he guided it away from the TV stand.

The snake resisted.

It raised itself again.

There was hissing.

There was tension inside the room.

Everyone stayed at a distance.

Uncle remained focused.

One wrong movement could create a completely different situation.

Finally, he managed to guide the little cobra towards the bucket.

For one moment, everybody watched.

Then it went inside.

The lid was closed.

That was it.

The hall suddenly became quiet.

The same house that, a few minutes earlier, had been filled with fear and confusion was now silent.

I can imagine everybody looking at one another and slowly realising that the danger had passed.

The little daughter probably didn’t understand the seriousness of what had just happened.

Maybe that was better.

The Journey Was Not Over

The Journey Was Not Over 

But for uncle, catching the snake was only half the work.

The intention was never to kill it.

The small cobra was simply in the wrong place.

It had somehow entered a concrete neighbourhood where humans had built their homes. It was not there looking for a fight.

So the husband and uncle took the safely contained snake away from the house and ensured it was released in a suitable natural area away from the family.

Only after that was the incident really over.

The family went back home.

The house was safe.

The child was safe.

The mother was safe.

And somewhere away from all those buildings and concrete, the little cobra was also given another chance to continue its life.

Who Was the Hero?

When I think about this story, one person naturally stands out.

Uncle.

Nobody had to force him to come.

There was no big discussion about the risk.

Someone needed help, and he came.

He had only one intention—to protect the little child and the family while making sure the animal was not unnecessarily harmed.

That is why I call people like him our silent heroes.

But when you look closely, this story actually had more than one kind of courage.

There was the mother, standing inside the house with her little daughter when a cobra was under the TV stand. Fear was definitely there, but she stayed present enough to protect her child and call for help.

There was the mother-in-law, sitting in another city, unable to physically do anything, yet having the presence of mind to immediately think about who nearby could help.

There was the husband who dropped his work and rushed home when his family needed him.

And finally, there was uncle, who walked across that small compound carrying his snake-handling tool and quietly did what had to be done.

No introduction.

No applause.

No camera.

Just help.

Heroes Are Sometimes Very Close

Life is full of small fights that we face every day.

Most are ordinary.

Some arrive without warning.

And during those moments, we realise the value of the people around us.

We sometimes look towards the sky and ask God to help us.

But maybe help does not always arrive in the way we expect.

God may not personally knock on our door.

Sometimes, He sends someone who is already living next door.

Someone we simply call…

“Uncle.”