No one in India can be indifferent to the traffic on roads, streets, by-lanes and gullies, not to speak of the existent and non-existent footpaths. In the first flush of acquiring a driver’s license, I longed for opportunities to test my skill. The problem was there was no car available. It was many years before the opportunity to drive on a regular basis presented itself — after another round of lessons with a new teacher. Thanks to a dear friend who allowed me to take the steering wheel of his fairly new car, and the faith he seemed to repose in my abilities, the confidence slowly began to build.
All about confidence
That’s what driving seems to be about — confidence. Drivers on Indian roads brim with confidence. There are opportunities taken and overtaken. Notice the nonchalance with which a small opening becomes an open gateway, blaring trumpets and all, to get ahead and away, never mind left, right and centre. As for the back, who’s checking the rear-view mirror?
It must be admitted they are skilled too, and often have good instincts — for themselves, of course. Else, how can they drive so badly and get away with it? Of course, we don’t know about those at the receiving end of these dubious skills and instincts — dents, for sure, injuries and big medical and auto repair bills; fatalities sometimes.
In order to survive this death race, then, you need to have good sense, an even temper, and eyes all around your head. And a whole lot else that you discover when you drive cheek to cheek, and head to nose with lorries, rickshaws, two-wheelers, three-wheelers, cars, buses, fish carts, cycles, people, cows, dogs and creatures too small to even be noticed.
Expect the unexpected
But this isn’t about what a mess our roads are, or how India has among the worst records in road-related fatalities, or the entirely misplaced overconfidence of drivers armed with licenses to kill (whoever gives them these?).
It’s about how, despite the nightmare on Ring Road or Stringer Street or Marine Drive or Shakespeare Sarani or Abids or Anna Salai, the traffic moves along in the same direction. Well, that’s not strictly true: cars, bikes, people come at you from the opposite direction when you least expect them to.
That’s not true either: we should always expect moving objects to come hurling at us at all times, on highway and byway and flyway, and for sure on one-ways. It’s foolish to think otherwise. Expect the unexpected is what they always say, isn’t it?
It seems, in Egypt, traffic jams can get so bad, people park their vehicles in the middle of the chaos, step out and get their errands done while the vandi waits in line!
A little patience and manoeuvring
We were in an almost similar situation on the way to Muthanga forest reserve, which is contiguous with Mudumalai and Bandipur in the Western ghats. We had to get there by 7 am in order to catch the jeep ride in the forest, and there we were, stuck, because cargo lorries had completely blocked one side of the road near the check-post and another humongous affair trying to squeeze past was, literally, in a spot.
As we watched from our Tempo Traveller, up vroomed our pushy, ubiquitous fellow in an I20, past everyone waiting, right to the front. There, his moment met the fate that was causing the wait in the first place; only his fate was further sealed when a tough cop marched up and ensured the I20 backed all the way to the very end of the growing-by-the-second line. A little patience and plenty of smart manoeuvring and the traffic flowed once more.
These days, I don’t get angry or frustrated when I drive. I don’t curse those I consider are not following rules. Well, I do, but in a jolly sort of way, inside my head — or at any rate, within the confines of the car. It’s called venting and it’s harmless.
Anyway, I had a theory that once we learned to conduct ourselves fittingly on the road, Bharat, that is India, would be on course for a better deal on all fronts, broadly speaking. The theory was, and is, untested, more like a feeling.
That theory, however, has since had to be modified. Now I believe that the busy street represents India, with all its different modes of transport and people and abilities and theories and voices. The road belongs to everyone, each one will travel at her/his/its own pace; they will plot their own journeys, and find their way — if they wish — to destinations of their choice. I just have to adjust.
Sometimes, I will encounter nasty fellow journeyers, sometimes I will have wonderful experiences. But I will have to be open — in heart, mind and body. Rather like the journey we’re on, in our hometowns, in our countries, and in the world.
Don’t get me wrong: I still vent. Sometimes I wag a finger or shout loud enough to be heard. Then the lights change, and I move on. As I’m sure, many do. Stop, reflect, and move on.
Will smiling help?