A foggy morning as it took me some time to realize 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 an unexpected gift ! What a great relief ! From time immemorial I have been sharing this road with cows, apple carts, beggars, autos, cycles, buses, cars, coconut bunches, motorcycles, scooters, every damn moving machine which has got a disc at the bottom called a wheel. .
I really get puzzled to see one slipping 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 . I am sure many must have been driving these roads for decades not quite sure of traffic rules, right of way etc..etc..such weird things . For some only two things are identifiable like a break and an accelerator in terms of their vehicle. .Still the most wondrous thing about this country is, many are able to find my way into road 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 our new road. They might take oath to dig it with precision under 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 synchronicity. They will come up with new zeal to lay some new lines. It leaves us to wonder what they were doing all the days when the roads were anyhow in bad condition. But all of us perfected the art of trekking the left over mud. Restoration left to wind by the concerned departments the new metal road keeps shedding tears with dents in it's heart.
Like every one else I perfected the art of trekking the loads of mud left on the roads . 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. I am forced to find a fruit vendor with his territorial instincts binds a a roap around his neatly arranged oranges and watermelons which stretch through out the footpath . Many scooters and cars are fortunate enough to find puncture wallah only next to him. 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 millions to their destinations on this bumpy road. Conductor somehow manages to penetrate into the crowd to sell a ticket to the reluctant passenger 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 toddlers the lessons of boarding and alighting 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.
Like every one else I perfected the art of trekking the loads of mud left on the roads . 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. I am forced to find a fruit vendor with his territorial instincts binds a a roap around his neatly arranged oranges and watermelons which stretch through out the footpath . Many scooters and cars are fortunate enough to find puncture wallah only next to him. 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 millions to their destinations on this bumpy road. Conductor somehow manages to penetrate into the crowd to sell a ticket to the reluctant passenger 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 toddlers the lessons of boarding and alighting 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 physical labour to begging, and stealing. It extended their periphery. The untidily dressed men hiding them selves in the tree shades float in their hallucinations consuming cheaper versions of drugs later only to be found laid unconscious.
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 unauthorized parked cars, comforting myself that by lanes are even worse, as every human contemplates his parking there fearing a cop. Often being rejected by every shop owner they are pushed to the end of the street to park their four wheeler. My ears already half deaf with horns continuously blaring 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 destination 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 trees below flyovers so that they will not become shelters for many,though 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 present in front of you in the form of a shop keeper.Mobile Sim cards, cello pens, detergents, biscuits,hair dye, notebooks, all from A to Z are being sold inside his unassumable tiny shop. In his ever expanding maneuvers it always thinks of keeping a xerox machine on the foot path to cater to the people's needs.
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 restaurant's kitchen.
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 restaurant's kitchen.
Many organisations concerned with GREEN propose t 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 depending on our fleet of erratic buses. One needs to practice hanging to the trees if he prefers to go by buses "Horns be banned from the streets" suddenly policy makers gone conscious of sound pollution , but the problem lies in driving people out of the way without blowing a horn. Perhaps every one should be equipped with a stick to scatter the crowds on his way stopping in between. Loud Barats, dances on the streets, bhajans and prayers with acoustic amplifiers are rarely considered as potential dangers to your ear but this horn evidently does all the evil on earth.
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.
