He walked into the crowded bus stand of Bangalore. He was in his mid thirties, and looked totally out of sync with the city, which was his home just five years back. This was the first time he was coming to India after he had settled in New Jersey. "Uff...too many people here", he said to himself. He walked towards the inter-state platform, which looked empty. He approached the old ticket issuer sitting behind the counter, to check the timings of the next bus.
"Excuse me, is this inter-state platform for Coimbatore?", he asked with a slight accent.
"Yes", replied the ticket issuer, in a bored tone, even without lifting his head.
"Are there no buses now?", he asked politely, a tone which he had learnt hard in the last five years.
"There are, please wait for some time".
"Okie, what time is the next bus?", obviously not happy with the reply.
"Cant say, we dont know what time the buses arrive...", trying hard to control his temper.
He sat down at a bench next to the counter. "These people dont give a damn about time. How can they be so rude and unprofessional...", he started cursing the ticket issuer.
After a few hours, the ticket issuer was talking to a bus driver at a roadside beedi shop.
"I dont understand this. Cant the people read the boards to know the platform numbers, bus timings etc. I have to answer hundreds of stupid people everyday who ask the same questions. I am fed up of..."