15 May,2011 10:09 AM IST | | Lhendup Bhutia
For years, BEST (Brihanmumbai Electric Supply and Transport) bus conductors made their way from depot offices to waiting buses, shiny flip-open metal boxes with colourful tickets hanging from one shoulder, and black satchels jingling with coins from another.
Thirty five year-old conductor Rajendra Tukaram Sawant (left)
reports to work at the Colaba bus depot. He has been using the
Trimax machine to issue electronic tickets for the last four months,
but still carries his metal box with tickets on his other shoulder, as
back-up. PIC/SHADAB KHAN
Now, for the first time in BEST's more than 100-year-old history, the metal box has been pushed away. And hanging from the neck is another strap, at the end of which dangles a machine called the Trimax.
With the new contraption, a conductor will no longer have to carry a boxful of tickets, and use a puncher to clip them. All he needs to do is press a few buttons, and the machine rolls out a ticket, much like an ATM slip. Clinical and quick.
The Public Relations Officer for BEST, N Walawalkar, whose office in Colaba stands amid old buildings housing continental restaurants and designer brands, says the Trimax represents modernity. "It is time we move on, and improve old systems."
Out & in
By the end of this year the metal box containing colourful tickets will be
replaced in all BEST buses by new Trimax machines
The end of an era
The electronic ticketing system was launched on a few buses from the Wadala depot, as part of a dummy run in December last year, and BEST officials hoped to have e-tickets rolled out on all buses, if there were no glitches, by the end of 2011. But it is only mid-May, and 21 depots out of 25 have already started using the machine. By the end of this month, the other four depots with its 800 buses (out of the 4,700 BEST buses) will start using the machine.
Conductors have undergone a 20-day training programme to learn the workings of the Trimax. As if unwilling to let go of the past, most of them still carry their old metal boxes with tickets, as back up.
Rajendra Tukaram Sawant, a 35 year-old conductor who has been using the Trimax for four months, explains the most beneficial part of the new machine. "With the old tickets, however senior or old a hand one is, it takes at least half an hour every evening after duty, to tabulate the tickets sold and number of tickets bought. Here, after my duty is over, I press a few digits, and out rolls the entire record."
What sort of a conductor uses a machine?
When Sawant joined BEST four years ago, after working in various odd jobs, his father Tukaram Sadashiv Sawant could not have been happier. Sadashiv Sawant retired after 'spending his life' as a BEST bus conductor in 2000, and his son was following him in his proverbial footsteps. But ever since Sadashiv Sawant has heard of the new machine, he has been dismissive of it. "What sort of a conductor uses machines?" is what he told his son, on hearing the news. "Some days back, he travelled in a BEST bus and saw the new machine," says Sawant. "When he got back home that night, he told me, 'I was faster with my box, than they are with this lousy machine'."
BEST museum
However revolutionary an idea the new e-ticket may be, this is not the first time that the BEST has introduced changes in its tickets. And the best way to understand the history of its evolution, is by visiting the BEST Museum that stands at Anik Depot in Wadala.
What else to look out for at the museum
The dome, which was used by the BEST from 1905 till 1947, was kept
at traffic junctions, atop cement structures. It would be lit at nights, so
that drivers would know of approaching junctions.
Old tram tickets issued by the BEST had Mumbai route maps printed
on them. PICs/SURESH KK
All you've got to keep in mind is not to interrupt the BEST clerk-turned-museum curator as he goes about narrating BEST's history. A prod to speak only about tickets, and he says sharply, "Wait, we will cover that too." It is, after all, not often, that the museum receives visitors, and on most days, the clerk has just BEST memorabilia to keep him company from 9 am to 5 pm.
Sanjay Chaulkar, in fact, is a man so thin, with glasses so thick and chappals so large, his sole job seems to be able to carry these items. He explains the history of the BEST, serving along with it, nuggets of trivia. "In 1873, BEST was formed." "In 1874, horse-drawn trams were introduced." "In 1920, double decker buses were introduced." "In 1939, the double deckers became roofless." It was the time of World War II, and fuel and iron proved too expensive. People seated in the buses used umbrellas to protect themselves from the sun, instead.
History of the ticket
It is when we reach the ticket section, that Chaulkar is infused with excitement. He speaks in long sentences, and then suddenly halts, as though remembering the need to catch his breath.
The section holds tickets of the BEST trams, some of them printed with Mumbai's map route. Others mention destinations with the corresponding fares. There are tickets that cost from half an anna to 9 annas.
There is also a heavy ticket-issuing machine, which was used by the BEST conductors till 1947. The machine has a handle and two dials; one used to mark the destination, and the other denoting whether the ticket was meant for a child, a luggage item or an adult. On rotating the handle, a ticket was issued. On the rear end of the machine, a record of the number of tickets issued and the total money collected was maintained. "But the British officers discovered that some conductors had learnt how to tamper with the records and cheat them. That's when it was discontinued," says Chaulkar.
How a newspaper printed bus tickets
Until 1947, the bus and tram tickets in circulation were printed in London. Once the country was sovereign, a new printer was required. Thus, from 1947 to 1957, the press of The Times of India was used to not just print the national daily, but BEST tickets too. On April 1, 1957, a BEST printer was installed at Bombay Central; this continues to print tickets.
Sanjay Chaulkar, BEST Museum curator,u00a0displays the heavy ticket-
issuing machine that was used by conductors till 1947.
The rear of the machine displayed a record of the number of tickets
issued. Pics/Suresh KK
Some have been so inspired by the tickets, it reflects in their art. Neil
Dantas, a Girgaum-based designer of tees, bags and furniture, says he
loves Mumbai. Not strangely, many of his T-shirts feature BEST buses.
Among them, one has 'Bombay' scribbled on it in the shape of BEST tickets.
Another of his creations is a chest that looks like it is made of BEST bus
tickets. His products are available at Bliss, 180, Aram Nagar 1, Fisheries
University Road, 7 Bungalows, Versova, Andheri (W). Call: 26332111u00a0
PIC/Ankit Mehrotra
Back then, tickets were marked in English. On May 16, 1986, after the Shiv Sena's continued protests, the numbers were changed to Devanagari script. BEST officials, however, absent-mindedly left the serial numbers in English, with the strange occurrence of serial numbers in English and ticket prices and route destinations in Marathi, continuing till 1988.
When coupons became currency
The Anik Depot museum also contains infamous coupons used by the BEST from 1984 to 1986. Introduced to overcome a shortage of coins during the time, the conductors handed out coupons of various denominations as change to passengers. The coupons, however, became so popular that sabzi mandis and shopkeepers began circulating them instead of currency. "The Reserve Bank of India objected to this, and the coupons were discontinued in 1986," says Chaulkar.
Mid-presentation, I turned around to find myself alone. Chaulkar had disappeared, leaving behind his large chappals. Believing I had seen the apparition of a long dead conductor, I hurried to check if our photographer's camera had been able to take his pictures. Just then, he merged, ushering me out, talking about the founder of the museum PD Paranjape. Paranjape worked in the BEST as an officer till 1990 and donated BEST bus tickets and memorabilia that he had collected over the years, to the museum.
A corporator who collects tickets
The deceased Paranjape was not the only man addicted to collecting BEST tickets. Pravin Chheda, a BJP BMC corporator from Ghatkopar, who became BEST Committee Chairman in 2008, says his hobby and fascination for tickets could have led him to seek the post of chairman. "I started out as a child in search of a hobby, and the colourful tickets seemed to me a logical choice. I began collecting tickets from conductors, and later, friends and family added to my collection," he says.
Chheda has over 300 tickets, some of which include those belonging to the Raj, worth 1 anna. "Now the tickets that we so commonly see are also going to become obsolete. It will be strange when the printer at Bombay Central goes silent."
E-tickets have no character
Well-known animal activist Abodh Aras, who is the CEO of Welfare of Stray Dogs, is distraught with the news of e-tickets bulldozing original tickets out of circulation. "This is terrible. The old tickets have so much character. The electronic ticket may be convenient, but they don't represent Mumbai, like the old colourful tickets did. This new e-ticket looks like an ATM slip," he says.
Aras owns a large collection of old tickets but does not consider himself a 'ticket-collector'. "I just started keeping them as a child, knowing that they would one day become obsolete." Aras has somewhere between 200 and 300 old tickets stored in a bag (including 10 paisa and one anna tickets). He is unsure, but remembers a time when his teenage friends would play pen games on tickets. "They would add up the numbers marked on tickets, and divide the sum by a certain digit, to guess if a particular girl fancied them or not."
Oh ticket, my post-it
Ravi Raj, a 63 year-old Mumbai-based architect, who now no longer takes a bus to get around the city, once took as many as five buses a day. It was the 1970s; he had just landed a job after graduating, and used to take buses from one site to another. All he would have in his pocket, apart from a wallet, was a pen and bus tickets. "They were my post-its, my notebook. There were no cell phones or post-its back then. So I would sit, and jot down notes on the back of these tickets. It could be anything: a line I liked in a newspaper, the name of a shop I wanted to visit later, a few notes about work ufffd anything." Raj would transfer the scribbled into a notebook, either that very night or collect them and transfer them over the weekend.
Strangely, I was to witness first-hand why these tickets are irreplaceable for many. It was about 8 pm on a weeknight, peak hour for traffic. I boarded a crowded bus to get to Wadala. The conductor was carrying a fancy Trimax, but he seemed to be struggling with it. It decided to hang, even as more passengers crammed into the bus clamouring for tickets. The irate voices grew louder and then all of a sudden, everyone went quiet.
We had all heard it. Click. Click. The conductor had set aside the machine, at least for now. His puncher had come to the rescue.
