Wheels of Wonder – A KSRTC Journey

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Beneath a sky brushed soft with rain,
Rolls the red bus through hill and plain.
KSRTC— not just a ride,
But a moving canvas, countryside-wide.
Its engine hums like an old folk tune,
Crooning through dawns and drowsy noons.
It weaves a tale on asphalt threads,
Of spice-scented hills and lotus beds.
A silver flash where rivers gleam,
A whispered prayer, a waking dream.
Yet not always swift, nor perfectly true,
Its journey often pauses, for me and for you.
From its classic crimson, bold and bright,
To newer blues that gleam in light.

It starts where temples bless the air,
Where  Padmanabha  rests in prayer.
The bus pulls out like a pilgrim’s thought,
To places the dreaming traveler sought.
Past East Fort's gates, where history breathes,
And Pazhavangadi's  floral wreaths.
Through Sree Chitra’s halls and Veli’s breeze,
Where art and lake hold hands with ease—
The red wheels  move slow, like a page turned old,
Rich with legends, bright and bold.
Then southward slides to Kovalam’s shore,
Where waves break like a poet’s roar.
Fishermen's boats drift out like prose,
And the sea wears sun like a bridal rose.
The scent of salt, the gulls' keen cries,
Beneath the vast, cerulean skies.
Poovar floats in gold and green,
Where river meets ocean — a twilight scene.
The bus rests briefly like a breath between,
Before it climbs where mountains lean.
The schedule's pace, a measured hum,
For local stops, the minutes come.

To Munnar’s peaks it winds and climbs,
Through tea gardens singing in silent rhymes.
The red KSRTC curves like a serpent in grace,
Past clouds that kiss the valley’s face.
The misty veil, the eucalyptus air,
A whispered secret, beyond compare.
The engine strains, then finds its stride,
Perhaps a blue Super Fast, along the mountainside.
The Minnal might dart, a crimson streak,
If wide, clear roads a speed-burst seek.

Thekkady  waits where elephants tread,
And bamboo whispers what ancients said.
Its horns are lost in forest deep,
Where tigers prowl and spices sleep.
The cardamom's bite, the pepper's zest,
Nature's wild heart, put to the test.
And deeper still, where secrets hide,
The Gavi  trip, a wilder ride.
Through Periyar's core, the forest thick,
A special service, for nature's pick.
With watchful eyes, for bison, deer,
A whispered world, held ever dear.

In Vagamon’s meadows, mist unveils
Rolling pastures and hidden trails.
There the red bus glides like a monk in trance,
Wrapped in fog, in nature’s dance.
The cool breeze sighs, a quiet call,
As raindrops cling and gently fall.

Climbing again to Wayanad’s height,
Where fireflies guide you through the night
The red bus rides like a heartbeat bold,
Through tribal trails and forests old.
Edakkal’s caves, a primal gaze,
Lost in the prehistoric haze.


Nearer to Kochi, a path less known,
To Mamalakandam, beauty sown.
Through winding bends, and rocky pass,
Where emerald vistas gently mass.
A hidden retreat, serene and calm,
Shielded from the city's harm.
These special routes, a KSRTC quest,
For those who seek nature's true test.

But as the plains begin to spread,
A sudden shudder, a metallic dread.
The engine coughs, a tired groan,
And silence falls, intensely known.
The conductor calls, his voice a sigh,
"A moment's pause, beneath this sky."
The door swings open, a dusty scent,
As passengers stretch, with questions sent.
A quick inspection, a worried glance,
"Just an old bearing, a minor chance."
No instant fix, no magic wand,
Just rural quiet, a waiting land.
Children chase butterflies in the sun,
While driver makes calls, the work begun.
An hour ticks by, then nearly two,
A new bus comes, or parts pulled through.
A shared laugh blooms, a passing friend,
The journey's rhythm, paused to mend.
Such delays, a common thread,
In KSRTC's life, oft said.


Then down to Kumarakom’s tender tide,
Where herons sail and houseboats glide.
The engine hushes like a lullaby,
As lotus petals float and sigh.
The rustle of palm, the silent paddle,
A peaceful world, where worries unravel.
Alleppey stirs with watery veins,
Where boat races surge like drums in rains.
The ferrying bus, like a bridge between,
Land and dream, in a mirrored scene.
Past coir-spun ropes and vibrant crafts,
As sunlight through the fronds shafts.
And by Ashtamudi’s vast expanse,
In Kollam, where the fishers dance.
From canals wide to lagoons deep,
The red KSRTC secrets keep, at its own slow sweep.

Through Kochi’s streets of spice and trade,
Where cultures meet and memories fade.
Fort Kochi’s whispers, Jew Town’s gleam,
A vibrant, ancient, living dream.
KSRTC pauses near harbors wide,
Like an anchor drifting in time’s tide.
Past Chinese nets that gently sway,
Reflecting fortunes of yesterday.
To Thrissur's heart, where temple bells ring,
And vibrant Poorams joyous bring.
The golden hues, the rhythmic beat,
Tradition vibrant, bitter-sweet.
Then onward through Kozhikode’s charms,
With beaches stretched like welcoming arms.
Its past is spiced with Arab tales,
Of dhows and dreams and wind-swept sails.
Mananchira Square, a verdant heart,
Where history plays its silent part.
And further north to Kannur’s fort,
Where Theyyam dances, a divine report.
The loom's soft click, the weaver's art,
A thread of life, held close to heart.
Here the miles fly, with purpose strong,
As a blue Super Express carries us along.
The journey's end, a final beat,
Rarely on time, but ever sweet.

And in Palakkad's reach, the hills incline,
To Nelliampathy, a mountain shrine.
Through winding hairpins, forests dense,
A cooler air, a keen suspense.
The orange groves, the misty peaks,
Another wonder, the red bus seeks.

Each bend, each village passed with grace,
Is like a stanza in a sacred place.
The tires know what words forget,
The sunsets seen, the souls it met.
Old men nod, young lovers dream,
Children trace stars through the window’s seam.
The conductor hums, the sleeper sighs,
The bus becomes a book that flies.
From hurried roads to gentle pace,
From waiting stops to time and space,
It carries dreams, and sheds old loads.
A constant hum, a rhythmic beat,
Of Kerala's pulse, so strong and sweet.
So take your seat, let patience bloom,
Embrace the journey, banish gloom.
For KSRTC is not just steel and gear—
It’s Kerala’s soul, rolling far and near.
A journey told, in every mile,
Reflecting Kerala's enduring smile.


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