Life or Death

July 4 2002. I was riding my TVS Super Champ to work in Chennai. Just before the Kotturpuram bridge, I got caught in a jam. I was never one to weave through traffic, so I waited patiently as the July summer sun beat down on me. Suddenly, I heard the siren of a fire engine. People tried to move and make way. I moved completely to the side of the road. Then I noticed something that made me cringe. While a few of us moved to allow the fire engine to reach its destination, others quickly moved and filled the space we'd created. As a result, there was no way the fire engine could move quickly. I think we lost 15-20 minutes right there. When I got to work, I came to know that some hutments in Nandanam had burnt down. I wondered how much additional damage was caused by the insensitive behaviour of the people on the road.

This is not something I noticed after I started driving. It is something that has been irking me for years now. And I see it everyday. Regardless of the city I'm in. Whenever there's an ambulance or a fire engine trying to get to its destination, no one is interested in letting them pass. If some people make way, others fill that space. Or worse, they'll try and get behind that ambulance or fire engine in an attempt to get to their destination sooner. Yet if we're waiting for these services, we are so quick to say, 'Why can't these people get here sooner?'

I wonder about what is going to happen in those 5 minutes? To you, probably nothing. To the family waiting for the ambulance or the fire engine, those very 5 minutes could mean the difference between life and suffering, even death. Have the bulk of us really become so selfish, insensitive and hard hearted? Do we really not care at all?

A new first

For the very first time today, I drove on my own. I had a couple of choices. I could take public transport and after 2-3 changes, reach work. Or I could take the plunge, drop S at work, and take the car. With a little urging and a lot of, "Of course you can do it"s, I ventured out on my own. The high was like nothing I've ever experienced. I didn't think I'd even enjoy driving so much. I breezed through the National Highway 8, even touched 100kmph, reached the toll plaza to be greeted by a very pleasant attendant (it was almost as though he wanted to share my happiness), and reached work by driving through the horrible Outer Ring Road. Fortunately, I didn't stall even once on the 45 km route.

The journey back was quite different. I took the same route as I did in the morning. At one point, I'd already spent 1.5 hours in the car and wasn't even half way home. There was an accident on the road and it had blocked the traffic. It took me almost an hour to cross a 3-4 km stretch. Once I was out of there, it was a breeze again. I reached S' office and landed myself in a spot that I didn't want to be found in. After some manouevres that I would have considered complex even 24 hours before then, I managed to get out. All I wanted to do was celebrate my big first. But by the time we reached home, I'd already spent close to 3 hours driving non stop. While I was fully expecting my legs to ache, it was my head that gave me maximum trouble.

All said and done, I was thrilled. Thrilled to have successfully managed to get to and from work on my own. Thrilled to have not bumped into any car nor have anyone bump into me. (Those of you who've driven in the NCR will know that this IS a BIG deal!) I wasn't so thrilled at the guys who leered at me from passing cars, but it was better than what it may have been when I would have been standing at a bus stop trying to flag down an auto.



After driving around a little within Gurgaon and after never having driven the car with no one else in it, I figured I did know when to depress the clutch. (And to all people who believe the Tatas cannot make passenger cars that women can drive, I have to admit that I drive the Tata Indica Diesel with as much ease as I do a Santro Xing Petrol. Tata cars are not a pain to drive. Period!) After having been so used to riding a two-wheeler (including the big mobikes) for so many years, I finally managed to shift gears, quite literally.

The Road to Perdition?

One of my earlier posts, Inviting Trouble, talks about the traffic sense of people in India. I was shocked to see people ride with babies falling out of their scooters, and even more shocked to see them take babies in the front seats of their cars.

I've always wondered about how dangerous that could be. This morning, S and I were on our way to work when we got behind an Indica chugging along on the right most lane at about 25 kmph. S honked to get the car to move and we got ahead. Then the driver of the other came up, really close to us, and overtook us from the left. He cut in right in front of us and came to a complete halt. Then Mr. I-know-english-and-the-proof-lies-in-my-use-of-swear-words got out. He came over to our car and said to S, "You want to go fast, go in that lane." (That lane... was on the other side of the divider. Dude... we're still in India... physically, mentally and any which way you look at it) "Why don't you fly a plane if you want to drive so fast? What rash driving!" ( So fast? We were going at 40!) "My son almost got hurt because of you. Can I bash your car in return?" Whoa! He switched lanes without looking and had to apply his brakes as a result of which his child got hurt. Curiosity got the better of me and I looked into his car. The child was sitting on the lap of a lady (maybe its mother) in the front seat, while a maid sat in the back seat. Education is such a waste. (I use this line so often that S is tired of hearing it, but that's what comes across loud and clear, wherever I go.) S apologized for the fact that his son almost got hurt, but told him it was his fault.

It turned out that they were also headed to the same building where I work. When we reached the office, S got out of the car and went up to him and said, "Now I know how your son almost got hurt. Shouldn't you travel with your child in the back seat?" To which, Mr. Oh-I'm-so-ignorant responds with a "Who are you to tell me where my son should sit?"

Is there a God? Questions aside, I'd appeal to God to drive some sense into these idiots who drive on our roads. Teach them the rules before it is too late. If they were to learn from experience alone, it would prove way to costly.

The Race Against Time

The alarm goes off at 6.45; my hand reaches out to the snooze button (a wonderful addition to any alarm). I rush through the morning routine so that I can enjoy breakfast with S, and leave for work with him. Yup… leaving for work together is somehow so important.

Once we’re out of the house, it hits us in the face: the aggression in this part of the world. My parents expected me to excel at what I did… academics, dance, music, art. They taught me that it was important to do well. But there was no pressure. They definitely didn’t teach me that it was OK to get ahead at the cost of other people. That stepping on others doesn’t matter as long as I get what I want.

Whenever we get out on to the roads, I can hear a song playing in my head. It’s like a modification of Ralph McTell’s song which goes like this:

Let me take you by the hand and lead you through the streets of Gurgaon
I'll show you something to make you change your mind

A pretty woman wrote in her blog about how people just say whatever comes to their minds. Out here, people don’t just say, they say and do exactly as they please. Nobody has bothered to learn the rules of traffic. If there is a roundabout, rather than go around it, they prefer cutting across. Standing in line or waiting in a queue is akin to murder! At a traffic signal, when there is nowhere to go and the signal shows red, it is not unusual to hear non-stop honking.

On some days, I take the elevator up. And that is an experience in itself. There is nothing called a queue. At times, I feel there is more order at a suburban train station in Bombay when the 8.23 fast to Churchgate rolls in. On several occasions I allowed those who came after me to get in first… even if that meant that I had to wait for the next one. When I think, “In Rome, do as the Romans do”, I also think, “If I behave the same way as these guys, what’s the difference between them and me?”

Chivalry is pretty much dead. I know that it is dying in other parts, but this is supposed to be the land of the chivalrous people. Chivalrous, my foot! If chivalry weren’t already dead in this part of the country, the people here would have stabbed it to death anyway. Forget holding a door open for you, men here will bang it shut right in your face. Come on… who has the time for this? We’re in a hurry.

Just last evening, we were at Big Bazaar finishing some grocery shopping. We had two cartloads of stuff and we’d just finished placing the last of the items on the counter. There were a couple of guys behind us in the “queue”. Big Bazaar’s billing system is such that it takes a little time to calculate the discounts after all the items have been entered. (It’s fun to watch the bill amount go down every second! Oops, I digress!) I was talking to S and my parents when I felt something very rough brush against my hand. I turned and found that Mr. In-a-hurry behind me had pushed his box of purchases all the way across because he decided he’d waited enough.

What is with the people here? Time is just as precious to me as it is to the next person. But did no one ever teach people in the north to be considerate? Or that it is not that important to get ahead in the race of life, especially if you’re doing it at the cost of others? I am not asking folks here to stop and smell the flowers, I’m only requesting that a little courtesy be extended to fellow beings.