The Rusty bus of meghalaya | Smit Bus | Ed sheeran favorite bus in india

Here something magical about stepping aboard the blue & yellow wooden buses in Shillong. Not just transport — but vessels of heritage. Every plank creaks with memory, every journey hums with songs, every conductor carries a story.

These buses, known locally as Bos Dieng, connect Shillong to places like Smit, Jowai, Mawsynram, and far-off villages in the East Khasi and Jaintia Hills. They are relics of a time when travel was slower, more communal, wrapped in wood and painted in blue and yellow. Less efficient than modern coaches, maybe, but rich in character.

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Origins: Roots in Bedford, Wood, and Rain

Back in the late 20th century, many buses in Shillong were Bedford chassis models. With time, locals built their own versions using Indian brands (Tata, etc.), but kept the style, woodwork, and spirit of the old Bedfords alive.

Drivers and conductors often tell how, in seasons of relentless rain, the roads became rivers; villagers would clamber into these wooden buses, clutching buckets, furniture, chickens, goods — anything that needed to reach the city. Bos Dieng weren’t just transport; they were lifelines.

More Than Just Transport: Living Monuments

The body — wood: flooring, seats, windows, doors — paired with a sturdy metal chassis. The blue and yellow paint, faded or fresh, with Christian crosses, images of Jesus, sometimes unexpected British flags or symbols.

There are “line” buses and “city” buses: a few that make fixed routes (twice daily journeys), others that run more flexibly throughout the day. Around 50 such buses remain. The ones traveling between the Mawlai (or Mawlonghat) bus stand to towns/villages are the most iconic.

Drivers like Hep, who started as conductor, know every twist and dip of the road. Young conductors like Lung, helping load goods, ferry people, often supporting families with modest wages.

These buses haul everything. From groceries to furniture, from baskets to poultry. They are the cheapest—and sometimes only—option for people living in remote areas

The Bos Dieng face pressure: road conditions, demand for comfort, newer buses, regulation, fuel costs. Many locals in Shillong barely use them now. Yet for villagers, these buses are still essential. Their survival depends on recognizing their value — not just as transport, but as living heritage.

Ride the Bos Dieng: How to Experience Them Yourself

Because Bos Dieng are more than a ride—they are a connection. With each bump, you feel the weight of stories: ancestry, struggle, connection, survival. They teach that identity is not only where you come from, but what you carry forward: rhythms, colors, wood, heart.

So the next time you’re in Shillong, let one of those blue & yellow buses take you not just across roads, but across stories.

The Bos Dieng of Shillong — When Buses Became Stories

In the rolling, rain-soaked hills of Shillong, something extraordinary still moves along the narrow roads — the Bos Dieng, the blue-and-yellow wooden buses that have become symbols of a time when journeys were slower, warmer, and full of life.

Step inside one, and you’ll feel it instantly — the soft creak of the wooden floor, the hum of old music, the mix of laughter and rain outside the window. These buses were never meant to be luxurious. They were built for connection — carrying people, their stories, and sometimes even their chickens and furniture, between Shillong and distant villages like Smit, Jowai, and Mawsynram.

Born from the legacy of old Bedford models, the locals kept their essence alive — wooden frames, handcrafted seats, and paint that still glows bright against the mist. Each bus has its own character, decorated with crosses, slogans, and sometimes a British flag fading on the side.

For decades, the Bos Dieng have been the heartbeat of the Khasi and Jaintia hills — a reminder that travel isn’t always about reaching faster, but about belonging somewhere in between.

But time is changing. Modern buses, rising fuel costs, and new regulations threaten their survival. Only a few dozen still run, their engines tired but their spirit stubborn.

If you ever visit Shillong, ride one. Sit by the wooden window, listen to the stories the rain tells as it hits the roof, and watch the hills drift by. Because when these buses stop running, it won’t just be the roads that go silent — it’ll be a piece of Meghalaya’s soul fading quietly into the fog.

You could ride one now, but even then, the whispers of the past may pass unnoticed. The world moves too fast, too loud, and these buses can no longer speak for themselves.

Upright is here — to remind us that some stories, some memories, cannot be ignored. The Bos Dieng teach us that heritage, resilience, and connection are fragile, yet priceless. They show us that slowing down isn’t just about travel  it’s about noticing what truly matters before it’s gone.