Yer drivin' me crazy!: Indians and Transportation, Part the One

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Much has been said of the mastery of Indians and automobiles and the choreographed ballet of the many on the one street. I have nothing to add, except possibly the humble opinion that the key theme of driving on Kolkatta and indeed all Indian streets is balance. Perhaps a deep and abiding respect for life, and living it on the edge, without regrets, etc. Or perhaps the more likely callous and required disregard for life, a certain letting go. Metaphorically. From those fat and thin who perch precariously on tiny scooters, smoky auto rickshaws, manual rickshaws, cars, vans, etc. to the unmarked lanes they use that somehow become one, then many, then none, it is certain that Indian drivers bow to no law.

I asked my cousin brother if he had ever been in an accident, or if anyone in the family had ever been in a bad car accident on the roads of India. He explained that the worst was bad "fender benders ¹ ", no, not really. He then recalled another time when a cement blockade on the road came hurtling towards him, unfettered by Newton's physics as he innocently drove down the road. "Didi²," he said. "I was in a situation unsanctioned by the laws of man and god. Hardly my fault. So, No. No accidents."

I murmured assent, as I recalled the time that still resounds in family lore as the day my father drove into an Albertson's parking lot in Baton Rouge and hit a station wagon full of nuns. Parked car full of nuns. While to this very day he continues to dispute the unambiguous facts, like whether the alleged nuns were actually in the wagon at the alleged time of the alleged accident, whether the nuns really existed, or really if he allegedly was even there, or if the pope is allegedly Catholic, then could this be arguably an act of God?! - there is a little of unsanctioned law and balance within the sphere of automobiles, mautomobiles, in all Indians regardless of whether they are actually physically in the Motherland or not.

I am currently in Kolkatta, known as the second largest most populous city in India with a population of more that 15 million. This is my father's city, his home base in India. The traffic here has changed over the years. On the streets that I travel, I no longer see the animals and the carts mingling with traffic I remember when visiting as a child. A few days ago, I went to the much smaller town of Patna, my mother's hometown, where I saw everything. The auto rickshaws were rabbit-like in their speed, agility and ability to multiply before your eyes, while the cars mingled with the pack animals and the cyclists in a marvelous tapestry. Er, cacophony.

As I see pedestrians crossing the streets, I am reminded of the Christians who were tossed into the Coliseum with hungry lions, for no particular reason.


1. Bad example, really, but this reminds me: Stay tuned for the upcoming entry regarding the fantastic, rhyming English spoken, but most amazingly written, by Indians.
2. Older Sister , an honorific term. Especially when my brothers and sisters use it.

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Photos

Teeth and the Streets
This truck was snapped on the streets of Patna, implicitly promising a whiter smile while on the go. I was unable to determine if root canals were on the menu.

Comments

[rosie]

traffic in india
ooh i loved reading your description, pooja. especially your comparisons to rabbits! the metaphor i learned in bangalore was: [insert city in india name here]'s traffic is like water. it will fill any space, any crevice that exists. no exaggeration.

[Monique]

#2
Ah, primogeniture... (My baby sister is in town.)