In my earlier job, I used to often travel to Washington DC. My company did a lot of work with the World Bank and I found it very convenient — and enjoyable — to stay with my friends, the Chandras, in the nearby Virginia suburb of Fairfax. Subhash Chandra worked with the World Bank and so we could commute together every morning. Even though he was in a car pool and one extra person could have conveniently gone along, he would insist on deserting his pool mates for the duration of my stay and take his own car every day. This way we could chat through the drive and also be free to do some bar hopping on the journey home. There used to be a “bus lane”, or expressway, between Fairfax and Washington DC. This operated in the direction of DC during the mornings and towards Virginia in the evenings. However the rapid transit route — it would save us almost half an hour each way — could be used only by buses or cars with a minimum of four passengers. So, if we wanted to use this time-saving route, we had to find two additional passengers to ride with us. This would become a problem if none of Subhash’s friends were headed the same way at the same time. People were known to have used dummies to get round the rule but, at times, they had been caught by alert cops and made to pay heavy penalties. We didn’t want to risk that. There had to be another way out. We would go via several bus stops and ask — literally beg — strangers waiting there if they would (kindly) agree to ride with us. This was easier said than done. Guys — and even women — at the bus stops knew we needed them. The bus fare to DC was only one dollar and those buses are perhaps more comfortable than the cars. Knowing all this, our would-be free riders would either look the other way when we — there were many others like us — approached them or hid their faces behind newspapers. Subhash would wind down the glass on my side, bend over and ask, “Excuse me, would you like a ride to Foggy Bottom?” The man or the woman would look at us disinterestedly and either not reply or utter an indifferent, “May be, but you will have to drop me at American Express (or some other destination).” This could mean an extra red light and several additional minutes, but we had little choice. Cursing under his breath but maintaining a big smile on the face, my generous host would say, “Of course, we’ll do that, please hop in.” A similar drill would take place at another stop — we needed two VIP riders and normally there was only one available at the first halt. If we got the numbers and accomplished our mission, we would ride our victorious chariot — almost like Arjuna in the epic, Mahabharata — on the Great American Bus Lane.
