Raja Marg

In a foggy morning as it took me some time to realise what is in front of me, I found a new thrill. They laid a metal road with a nice black top right in front of house. What a great relief ! From time immemorial I have been sharing this road with a cow, apple cart, auto, cycle, beggar, bus, car, coconut bunch, motorcycle, scooter, every bloody thing which has got a disc called wheel. . I really get puzzled how every one slip into the main road with such a neck breaking speed without stopping for a second to look around and understand the intensity of traffic on the main road . As I have been driving for decades not quite sure of which traffic symbol indicates what, many must have taken their licences without learning the fundamentals. For many, only two things are identifiable like a break and an accelerator in terms of his vehicle. .Still I am able to find my way into this jungle world without tumbling.

The new road which looks like a rare possession, is obviously being enjoyed by every one. But all of us have a lurking fear in mind that this joy is transient, as every department on earth will find it's way of locating my new road, taking oath to dig it with precision on some pretext or other. Day one, two, pass with peace, third day definitely they will find a malfunctioning telephone line or sewage pipe with perfect synchronisation.Or they will come up with new zeal to lay some new lines. Even when the loads of mud excavated left to its fate, I perfected the art of trekking it. By the time I get down from the mound , the scooter is ready from back to thrash me down, the poor rider struggling to balance it with his fat wife and son as pillion, his little daughter standing in front trying to take control of his handle. Occasionally I find few rescue islands called foot paths but the joy of walking lasts only for a minute as I am forced to find a fruit vendor with his neately arranged oranges and watermelons on full stretch of footpath. . As I notice ropes being tied to one pole to another I could understand that the place has been earmarked for him. I think I am fortunate enough to find puncture wallah only next to him. Otherwise where do I go all the way to get my tyre punctured? He too has a stake on foot path and manages to keep his bulky air filling machine on it, with pipes hung to the tree on his head. The RTC buses are precariously racing with cars heavily leaning to the left with numerous people hanging to it. What the poor driver can do? His regular trips are scheduled and he is bound to reach the destination on time by land or air. Each RTC driver and conductor should be awarded with Ashok Chakra for transporting these unruly millions to their destinations on these bumpy roads. Conductor somehow manages to penetrate into the crowd to sell a ticket to the reluctant traveller, who is silently praying his god to bring his bus stop as soon as possible before a demon called conductor approaches him.No amount of physical contact with women folk can wrack conductor's celibacy. With old and infirm unable to board, few enthusiastic mothers taking opportunity of this busy hour to teach their nearly crawling toddlers the lessons of ascending and descending the bus, few young girls trying their cat walks with their stilettos , he always finds it difficult to tell them that he is running behind the schedule.

What is more intriguing is my puncture wallah's ability to communicate with a half naked lunatic who prefers to sit in that corner often meditating and occasionally pelting stones on by passers. The new laid road gave rise to hopes to jobless bunch of ill dressed youngsters who can be put to multifarious uses right from manual labour to begging, and stealing. It extended their periphery. The untidily dressed bearded men hiding them selves in the tree shades floating in their hallucinations can uncurl themselves on this comfortable road after loosing their consciousness.

I did not even feel like getting into the by lane leaving my precious though hazardous road for the sheer pleasure of gliding over it again and again , squeezing between unauthorised parked cars, comforting myself that by lanes are even worse, as every human contemplates his parking there, often being rejected by every shop owner and pushed to the end of the street. My ears already half deaf with horns continuously blowing exceeding the tolerable decibels, I think that I have every right to walk across the road, as it seemed to have no reprieve to it's unending stream of vehicles, after all I cannot wait ages to reach my home you know?

For millions who can not find a better home than this sprawling road to live and as well to defecate, government is heartlessly planting plants below flyovers so that they will not become shelters for many, devoid of roof on their head. Shops are no less grabbers. The moment shutters are opened half the shop finds it's way to the roadside with luring ice cream bars, onions, brooms , breads, eggs, chips hanging on our faces. Call a gene, he is there in front of you in form of a shop keeper.Mobile Sim cards, cello pens, detergents, biscuits,hair dye, notebooks, all from A to Z are being sold inside the tiny shop. In it's ever expanding maneuvers it always thinks of keeping a xerox machine on the occupied foot path area to cater to the people around. Hotels without parking areas are shut for a day only to reopen on next day with a tiny parking board right inside the hotel, I wonder how a scooter can really be lifted into the hotel, and how many two wheelers in reality can be accommodated inside . All the officials want is a simple board. A car wallah is not entitled to a tiffin or coffee on roadside restaurant unless he wishes to park his car straight in it's kitchen.

Many organisations concerned with green belt propose to our administration, that best way to control the private vehicles is to levy a heavy parking fee almost equivalent to their EMI. With every buyer being deterred from buying a car or scooter of his own, I wonder how one will reach his workplace on time with our fleet of erratic buses. Probably every one should practice hanging to trees keeping in view of his future bus escapades.Every office should provide one closet to every one to keep his additional pair of clothes, or crumpled clothes should be made a mandatory dress code.. Horns be banned from the streets , suddenly policy makers gone conscious of sound pollutions , but the problem lies in driving this crazy lot out of the way without blowing a horn. Perhaps every one should be equipped with a stick so that he can stop at every 20 yards and wave his stick to scatter the crowds on his way. Loud Barats, dances on the streets, bhajans and prayers with acoustic amplifiers are rarely considered as potential dangers to your ear, barring this poor horn.

Gandhi went around India to understand it before he takes a plunge into serious Indian politics, now to understand India we don't have to travel all the way to distant places. Take a few minutes walk on the main road. You will understand India better.