Dude! Watch your step!

I turn the ignition on after fumbling for the keys and check my watch. 9.11. Sigh! Five minutes late again (comparing it to the time I left home yesterday morning which was five minutes later compared to the day before). There are a thousand things that are currently running in my mind aside of turning on the Bluetooth in my phone to sync the songs through the BT Audio in my car. The most prominent thought being the chaotic traffic I have to wade through to reach my client’s place, which is a good 12 kilometers from my abode.

I get off the slope running down my house and onto the main road, honking all the way through the five centimeters where the garbage is getting cleaned with the garbage van parked right outside the gate, mindless cyclists and pedestrians crossing blissfully while chattering over their handheld devices, whatever they may be. Upon my successful haul onto the main road, I weave through and find a place to park my drive sandwiched between two autos parked angularly in a V-shape formation in front of me. I can’t really differentiate between Obtuse and Acute and it’s like telling me what’s the difference between a crow and a sparrow. I wouldn’t really bother. The signal turns green and there is absolute pandemonium. That sheer brilliance of steel packed in a Range Rover you admired, parked diagonally right across the puny little thing that you drive suddenly swerves to the left, leaving you right in the middle. Having followed all the rules namely, indicator blinking left, your parked car on the extreme left lane indicating that you are going to turn left and the very fact that you need to turn only either left or right because there is no straight permissible, you would expect to see some discipline from the others as well. Sorry to disappoint you. You are infallibly wrong. As I turn to my left (finally!!) with 5 seconds to spare in a 90 second signal where you are one of the first five vehicles parked (that is the extent of mayhem on the road), you enter the road to be encountered by a tourist taxi Indica charging at you at 60 kmph in that narrow stretch of pot-holed Government property. You somehow apply your brakes and pray that your ABS (Anti-lock braking system) for which you paid an extra 50 grand and settled for the top end model somehow serves the purpose.

 It saves you in the nick of time, after getting a disgusted look from him for no err of yours, and from the third gear you are back to the first and in this process, you break a sweat, release the clutch too fast and the ignition turns off. By the time you recover from all this tamasha and move a little more forward, an auto plunges into the main road from another narrow street from nowhere and lands right in front of you and moves at 20 kmph looking for ‘savaari’ translated as looking for people, for him to carry on his carrying business.

  

You successfully dodge him and land at another signal, thankfully ten minutes from all that fiasco. Ten minutes of a little more honking, braking, flooring, bull-dozing the two wheelers, getting bull-dozed by buses, participating in sans- trophy races before crashing on a speed-breaker and hurting the underbelly of your precious little drive.

Finally, ten minutes away from work you are held up at a signal that stretches to about 200 meters and encompasses vehicles of all shapes, sizes and designs possible. That is the stretch when you get to see a Bentley Mulsanne while an auto attempts to kiss it with its half broken headlight which is a 4x4 itself and where you see a Mini Cooper S standing behind a TVS 50 with its driver cum owner all padded up with headgear et all waiting for that change in the signal post to green from red to boom into his maximum speed of 40 kmph.

 As I turn right, with the indicator blinking right, a character of pure genius overtakes me on the right

and cuts me in the front and turns left and that is plausible only by a dude with two more loafers sitting behind him, giving me that condescending look because he is apparently cool for two reasons 1. He made me stop in my tracks, not because he is dashingly killingly handsome (Oh Please!) and 2. He has that ‘Cool dude’ factor for having flouted the rules and for some unfathomable reason that he must have known the driver of the MLA’s secretary’s aunt’s neighbor’s servant.

As you finally turn your car onto the driveway, one patti would spring up from nowhere inches before your car’s bonnet like a suicide bomber and make u brake just by a show of hand. You have to oblige to that frail woman and not honk or give her a dirty stare as you are suddenly reminded of your great grandmother and think what you would do if she were alive and in the same situation as this patti. Pah!

While at the signal, you would get a myriad of entertainment. From office-going aunties wearing socks on their hands to prevent from getting tanned, to bunches of college and school students, holding hands and chatting all the way, texting and crossing the road, oblivious to the attention they are drawing towards themselves. You can spot these guys who are probably stick figures wearing clothes to accentuate the gravitational effect, who ride massively huge beasts like the Kawasaki Ninja, Honda CBR and Yamahas (which are brilliantly fast vehicles). When they pass by you after the signal, they are inconspicuous by then and sometimes you wonder whether they are holding on to the handlebars just to hold themselves lest they should be gone with the wind. However the best of the lot are always the well-built Iyer mamas with a kudumi returning from a homam, wearing huge pattais with their madisaar maami sitting behind them, in a Yamaha Fazer. That is by far the best thing you would have ever noticed. A sheer contrast of cultures, though hilariously funny, is the truth and a trend that’s growing big.

This has been my experience on most of the days I drive (which is 7 out of 7). The disheartening sight of people mindlessly crossing the roads while engrossed in their own world over their phones, absolutely reckless driving and carelessly defying the rules as if to scoff at them for their existence. It is high time we, as souls who exist and survive to LIVE our lives in this amazing country, started aping the west in lane discipline and traffic sense as well and not just live-in relationships and Gucci bags. Cleanliness begins with oneself. So does discipline. With the significant rise in the traffic population, it is essential for every road user to be aware of his roles and responsibilities. It is urged that every organization educate its employees and come down heavily upon those who disregard the rules and the set-up in frame. It is absolutely necessary that the Government organizes camps especially for Auto-drivers (includes share autos who are a tad worse), for in my sight they seem to be the most careless and recklessly ruthless road users who still are the very few sects who imbibe the age old Caveat Emptor (Customer is King). If the rider wishes to stop in the middle of the road, so will he stop there, not attempting to be slightly bothered at the disturbance caused to at least a hundred vehicles behind his’.

There needs to be a tightening on the provision of licenses issued to such drivers and nobody has the right to put the life of another in peril. It is really disturbing to see accidents day in and day out due to the sheer spoof of the entire system of regulations meant to be followed. I re-take the pledge I have taken all these years. “I shall drive and use the road (even while not driving) sensibly and learn to keep my ear, brain and eyes open and shall strive constantly to ensure that I cause the least disturbance to fellow road –users”. I would urge every single one of you to take this pledge and adopt it as part of your routine for you, will see that the rate of accidents plummet and then co-existing in absolute harmony will turn out to be a reality.

I am now two minutes away from office. One cyclist vigorously cycling on the wrong side swerves and enacts to me a vintage Bombay Circus stunt. He scrambles across the median and lands one centimeter away from me, scratches my bonnet with his Lance Armstrong skills and says to a bewildered me, scrunching his face, “Yen maa. Vootla solltu vantiya??”

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Photos: Photos have been lifted from the internet, and one blog in particular - http://chennairoads.wordpress.com/category/chaos/