Trudging the last mile
Infrequent or nonexistent bus services mean villagers have little choice but to walk long distances
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The road to Devegere is unpaved and covered with stones.
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By Pallavi Ail
BANGALORE (Dec. 1)—Prakash, 30, was brushing his teeth, bending over the drain opposite his small home. His mother, Parvattamma, squatted nearby. It was a little after 6:30 a.m. Such early-morning ablutions are not an uncommon sight in the tiny village of Devegere. After all, the majority of its inhabitants are farmers, and rising with the sun is part of life.
But Prakash was hurrying for another reason. The next Bangalore Metropolitan Transport Corporation bus was due at the crossroad in Devegere in 30 minutes—with luck.
“There’s no guarantee the bus will come,” said Prakash, toweling his face. “The bus timings are very irregular. Before, it used to come every half hour between 8 and 11 in the morning, but now even that’s not a certainty.”
He rushed inside his home, but it was too late to take a bath. Parvattamma clucked in disapproval at his haste and cautioned him to slow down.
Devegere is two kilometers from the nearest regularly functioning bus stop, at Nallakamba. If they choose not to walk there, Devegere’s residents must walk almost six kilometers to Kumbalgodu, which witnesses a steady frequency of buses to Bangalore city.
“There was a colony bus that used to service the residents around BGS,” Prakash said. “But it’s been stopped for the last six weeks. That used to help us somewhat.”
The residents say the BMTC buses do not operate for longer routes. Sometimes buses meant for K.R. Market operate only till Kengeri. At times, buses don’t come for a week.
“The bus hasn’t come for a week,” said Prakash. “There’s no way to know whether it will come.”
Situation worse for females, schoolchildren
Prakash lives with his parents. His father is a shepherd and rarely needs to go to the city. His mother does menial work around the village like helping with construction work. He has two elder brothers and one younger sister. He has a niece, Tejaswini, who is 4 years old and was hoisted on the hip of her grandmother when the grandmother spoke to a SoftCopy reporter.
“It is especially difficult for females,” said Parvatamma. “At night, there are no lights, and to walk that much distance in the dark is scary.”
Parvattamma sat mixing cement and water on the narrow path in front of their home. Tejaswini was ambling around her trying to pick the wet gravel. Parvattamma kept an eye on her as she started shoveling the wet cement mix.
“It is especially difficult for schoolchildren in the morning. They have to walk for 20 minutes to the Nallakamba bus stop,” she said, motioning the 4-year-old away from the cement mix.
The road to Kumbalgodu is a well-laid tar road, but it is unlit. Stretches of the road are lonesome, with no dwellings on either side.
“We don’t let females out after dark,” said Rangappa, 50, a farmer. “It’s unsafe.”
‘Last mile connectivity’ a burning issue
BMTC is supposed to serve the farthest reaches of rural Bangalore district, which includes Devegere. The issue of “last mile connectivity” often crops up with respect to public transport in urban areas.
With the population bursting and the girth of Bangalore roads shrinking due to encroachment and illegal parking, experts have recommended that cycling and walking are the only solutions for negotiating the final stretch that public transport doesn’t reach.
“In bigger cities, the proportion of people using conventional public transport was high, and consequently commuters walked the last mile,” says a report drafted in 2008 by Mirabilis Advisory, an economic development consultancy.
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Parvattamma does not leave her village after dark due to the unavailability of buses and absence of street lights. |
“For instance, in cities with more than 8 million population: 22 percent walked all the way, 8 percent used cycles and 44 percent used public transport. This adds up to 74 percent of people who rely on non-motorized transport for at least part of the commute,” the report says.
Though walking has been mooted as a viable solution to Bangalore’s last mile connectivity problems, it comes with a disclaimer: the physique of the person and the distance to traverse.
Parvattamma, 65, is a thin yet wiry old woman. It takes her as much as 30 minutes to walk to Devegere crossroad, which is around 500 meters from her home. She scoffs at relying on bus service to the crossroad and, more often than not, she would rather walk to Nallakamba, where she can at least be sure there will be a BMTC bus.
“The urban poor make up a city’s ‘captive walkers,’ but since this group has the least resources, it usually has the smallest political voice,” says a report titled “Demand, Constraints and Measurement of the Urban Pedestrian Environment” drafted by World Bank in 2008.
‘Will you help us?’
The majority of the population of Devegere are farmers. They often cart their produce to the city market to sell.
“We carry our produce in jute bags to Devegere cross. We wait there for some time or we walk to Nallakamba with all the produce,” said Narsimayya, 33, a farmer who cultivates tomatoes.
Standing next to him, Rangappa, nodded. “It becomes very difficult if we have to stand hours with our produce. The bus comes three hours late or doesn’t come at all at Devegere crossroad.”
“We have bus services to all the corners of the city,” said Mallikarjuna, BMTC’s public relations officer. “Wherever it is requested, we start a bus service. We have buses operating on 200 schedules currently.”
“Do they not get service? Send a letter to us outlining the area, we will consider it,” Mallikarjuna said when queried about the situation at Devegere.
“We’ve made repeated complaints to Bidadi, Rajarajeshwari Nagar and Kengeri depot managers, but nothing has happened,” said Narsimayya, 33, a farmer.
“In times of emergency, we take lifts in tractors, trucks or the private vehicles of others,” said Paravatamma. “What choice do we have?”
Prakash echoes Narsimayya’s words. He said he had personally made complaints to BMTC about the irregular and often absent bus service. But it hasn’t had any effect.
“Will you help us? Can you find a solution?” said Parvattamma as she hoisted Tejaswini on her hip and turned toward her home.
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