Wednesday, April 16, 2008

Art of Driving

I have been driving in Mumbai since quite some time now and also had the experience to drive in some other major cities of India like Ahmedabad, Bangalore and Pune. Driving in all these cities has something in common and following are my observations about driving. For the benefit of every Tom, Dick and Harry visiting India and daring to drive on our roads, I am offering a few hints for survival. They are applicable to every place in India except Bihar, where life outside a vehicle is only marginally safer.

Indian road rules broadly operate within the domain of karma where you do your best and leave the results to your insurance company.

The guidelines are as follows:

Do we drive on the left or right of the road?
The answer is "both". Basically you start on the left of the road, unless it is occupied. If occupied, go to the right, unless that is also occupied. Then proceed by occupying the next available gap, as in chess.

Just trust your instincts, ascertain the direction, and proceed. Adherence to road rules leads to much misery and occasional fatality.

Most drivers don't drive, but just aim their vehicles in the intended direction. Don't you get discouraged or underestimate yourself. Except for a belief in reincarnation, the other drivers are not in any better position.

Don't stop at pedestrian crossings just because some fool wants to cross the road. You may do so only if you enjoy being bumped in the back. Pedestrians have been strictly instructed to cross only when traffic is moving slowly or has come to a dead stop because some minister is in town. Still some idiot may try to wade across, but then, let us not talk ill of the dead.

Blowing your horn is not a sign of protest as in some countries. We horn to express joy, resentment, frustration, romance and bare lust (two brisk blasts) or just to mobilize a dozing cow in the middle of the bazaar.

Keep informative books in the glove compartment. You may read them during traffic jams, while awaiting the chief minister's motorcade, or waiting for the rain waters to recede when over-ground traffic meets underground drainage.

Night driving on Indian roads can be an exhilarating experience (for those with the mental makeup of Genghis Khan). In a way, it is like playing Russian roulette, because you do not know who amongst the drivers is loaded. What looks like premature dawn on the horizon turns out to be a truck attempting a speed record. On encountering it, just pull partly into the field adjoining the road until the phenomenon passes.

Our roads do not have shoulders, but occasional boulders. Do not blink your lights expecting reciprocation. The only dim thing in the truck is the driver and the peg of illicit arrack he has had at the last stop; his total cerebral functions add up to little more than a naught. Truck drivers are the James Bonds of India and are licensed to kill.

Often you may encounter a single powerful beam of light about six feet above the ground. This is not a super motorbike, but a truck approaching you with a single light on, usually the left one. It could be the right one, but never get too close to investigate. You may prove your point posthumously. Of course, all this occurs at night, on the trunk roads.

During the daytime, trucks are more visible, except that the drivers will never show any signal. (And you must watch for the absent signals; they are a greater threat.) Only, you will often observe that the cleaner that sits next to the driver will project his hand and wave hysterically. This is definitely not to be construed as a signal for a left turn. The waving is just an expression of physical relief on a hot day.

Occasionally you might see what looks like an UFO with blinking colored lights and weird sounds emanating from within. This is an illuminated bus, full of happy pilgrims singing bhajans. These pilgrim buses go at breakneck speed, seeking contact with the Almighty, often meeting with success.

Apart from the above guidelines, there are some specimens unique to Indian traffic:

Auto Rickshaw

The result of a collision between a rickshaw and an automobile, this three-wheeled vehicle works on an external combustion engine that runs on a mixture of kerosene oil and god knows what. This triangular vehicle carries iron rods, gas cylinders or passengers three times its weight and dimension, at an unspecified fare.

After careful geometric calculations, children are folded and packed into these auto rickshaws until some children in the periphery are not in contact with the vehicle at all. Then their school bags are pushed into the microscopic gaps all round so those minor collisions with other vehicles on the road cause no permanent damage. Of course, the peripheral children are charged half the fare and also learn Newton's laws of motion en route to school. Auto-rickshaw drivers follow the road rules depicted in the film Ben Hur and are licensed to irritate.

Mopeds

The moped looks like an oil tin on wheels and makes noise like an electric shaver. It runs 30 miles on a teaspoon of petrol and travels at break-bottom speed. As the sides of the road are too rough for a ride, the moped drivers tend to drive in the middle of the road; they would rather drive under heavier vehicles instead of around them and are often "mopped" off the tarmac.

Leaning Tower of Passes

Most bus passengers are given free passes and during rush hours, there is absolute mayhem (hell). There are passengers hanging off other passengers, who in turn hang off the railings and the overloaded bus leans dangerously, defying laws of gravity but obeying laws of surface tension. As drivers get paid for overload (so many Rupees per kg of passenger), no questions are ever asked. Steer clear of these buses by a width of three passengers.

One-way Street

These boards are put up by traffic people to add jest in their otherwise drab lives. Don't stick to the literal meaning and proceed in one direction. In metaphysical terms, it means that you cannot proceed in two directions at once. So drive as you like, in reverse throughout, if you are the fussy type.

Lest I sound hypercritical, I must add a positive point also.

Rash and fast driving in residential areas has been prevented by providing a "speed breaker"; two for each house. This mound, incidentally, covers the water and drainage pipes for that residence
and is left un-tarred for easy identification by the corporation authorities, should they want to recover the pipe for year-end accounting.

If, after all this, you still want to drive in India, have your lessons between 8 pm and 11 am - when the police have gone home. The citizen is then free to enjoy the 'FREEDOM OF SPEED' enshrined in our constitution.

Having said all this, isn't it true that the accident rate and related deaths are less in India compared to US or other countries ?

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Tuesday, April 08, 2008

Art of Travelling

Local trains … the ‘life-line’ of Mumbai…. Thousands of people hold onto this life-line everyday to keep pace with their lives... And here I am... One of those thousands... trying to go ahead in life using the life line … so cut-to-cut that even one minute’s delay can cause me to be behind others!!!!

Daily adventures or misadventures in the train are very common. If I start writing on those, this post would never end. So this is my way of actually saying that Local train traveling is a very adventurous way of living!!! Adventure that begins from running to the station, to get on a train at odd times like 9.23am, 10.56 or 19.44 etc amongst which is suitable for me till getting in that train and from there till being in one piece to getting out of it!! But then every adventure no longer excites you if over done; you get tired. So I think I have started getting tired of it!!!

Anyways, this post is meant for people who never have come to Mumbai or traveled in a Local Train. To an outsider, who has never boarded a local train in Mumbai (a task difficult to accomplish and once done, difficult to keep up with), well, you have missed an opportunity to be massaged in every possible place on your body, even in those places, which you never thought existed.

Every morning I wake up to the same derisive feeling, loathing myself to wake up for such a task as to get on board a local train in Mumbai. This isn’t a personal loathing towards railways or even the people traveling on them, it’s just a state of contempt upon the whole competition for as scarce a resource as a square foot of real estate which is rightfully mine.

I was listening to Bruce Yandle’s pod cast, in which he discusses a really cool concept called as the ‘Hummingbird Economy’. It’s so deceptively simple, but to know what it means, we need to jump back to Yandle’s childhood. At their family ranch, as kids, he and his brother used to put up wooden feeding bins for hummingbirds. Since there were too many of those birds around the ranch, they used to have a great time watching them feed while fluttering around each other competing for food.

What he observed was that the feeding began with just one hummingbird hovering around the bin and trying to pick some food up for itself. But as soon as the bird backed off a little bit to make room for some more comfortable hovering, other hummingbirds (who have spotted the food source as well) flocked around the first hummingbird and competed for food and eventually there was a flock of birds trying to do the same thing and the first hummingbird may or may not get his coveted share of food.

This concept is so alarmingly close to what I feel every single morning when I try to board the morning local, especially a fast local train. It isn’t much of a trouble on weekends when the crowd is relaxed. But on a working day, during peak hours, it becomes a hummingbird economy. There is a resource (read one or possibly half a square foot) of space in the train compartment. There are 5 people or possibly more, standing right next to you who are contesting for the same space but with similar or completely out of the box strategy to acquire it. There are many variables at play. The speed of the train as it enters the platform, the speed of the train when your intended compartment approaches you. Other variables that come into play would be the density of people standing around you, their luggage and last and the most important your luggage and belongings (phone, watch, wallet, et al). When you factor in all these variables into the decision of getting on board the current train, it all boils down to a yes/no question. Sometimes you need to be brave enough to risk getting bashed against some other person, squashed in the crowd with your neatly tucked shirt desperately trying to give up any physical contact with you.

The whole physics of the situation is simple, your weight, your belongings, and your life (metaphorically); your shirt or even shoes for that matter are utterly immaterial. You need to be selfless, like a monk, to appreciate the serenity of getting a place right below the small fans that choke out some puff of wind every now and then.

Each day most of us fight... Fight to get in the train suitable to us so that we are in on time... Fight to remain in there and fight to get down...!!! (And here fight refers to an actual ‘fight’!!!!)

The ultimate lesson from all this is, get up early, catch your train early and leave the crowd behind to fight over what is left. As Yandle explains, it is always advantageous for the first entrant to set up shop, use the resources until others get to know about it and leave before there is too much clutter. Because if you even move to readjust yourself in the crowd by leaving your quasi square foot of space for just a microsecond, some other competitor will replace you and leave you starving for the very same resource which you once claimed.
No wonder why they call it ‘early bird’ prizes

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Monday, March 31, 2008

Art of Lying

Well yes, lying is an art, though only people who get caught while lying seem to know it. They only understand how tough and skillful the art of lying is. It needs a man with common sense and commanding presence of mind to speak a lie.

I admit I am a liar and a seasoned one at that. Well that's nothing unusual, we all lie or I assume most of us do. It is just that some people never accept it. There are some who even claim that they don't lie, they have never lied in their life, and this is something I find hard to believe. Those who claim to be always honest and truthful may never have been in any difficult situation. This is something I can bet upon.

Usually we all lie in a trying situation; lying is an easy option. Here I am not talking about habitual liars, those who lie without purpose, just for the sake of it. For instance, there are some individuals if you ask them what they are reading they will answer "history" hiding the "geography" book. This post is not for them. This one is for sincere liars. People who lie when needed.

Personally I feel nothing wrong with lying, if it's not intentional. I have been doing it since childhood, since the time I can remember my first school. It all started with pranks in the bus on our way to school and back home. The driver complained, whenever he caught us and for our defiance lying was the only option. Later on as our pranks increased so did our frequency of lying and as they say "practice makes a man perfect" we achieved near perfection. If we ever got caught and were called in to the principal's office, we would never go to him straight; would always meet up before going in, decide what and how to lie, who would speak what and then with weary, ignorant faces we'll would enter the office, as if thought we were the most innocent kids GOD ever produced. Several times the bus guys used to get kicked because of us.

Subsequently we learnt that a liar should have a very good memory and a good understanding of the nature of the individual one is dealing with and his/her emotional weaknesses along with the commanding presence of mind needed for lying. Lying is safe if performed alone but in groups it requires precaution, coordination and proper communication. There are some fools (every group has one) who speak without thinking and make everyone suffer. The important thing is to identify such stupid-teammates, and be ordered to keep their mouth shut. Initially we suffered a lot due to this but once we traced who made a mistake, they were strictly prohibited from speaking. It all worked out fine. Basics learnt in the childhood worked very well in teenage and later in college.

One more precaution to be taken during lying is its repetition. A lie looses its credibility if repeated more then twice. Two grandmas' can be in the ICU at a time but not three. So I made it a point to be the first one to give excuse if 15 others are involved in class bunks. Obviously, one who would wait till the end would be left with no reliable excuse (haste should be in the minds of expert liars, not in action and expression). The whole charm of lying lies in novelty.

When I established myself firmly in this field of lying, then I practiced honesty (woh kya kehte hein “Sau choohe khaa kar billi haj ko chali” Had no other quote in English !!!) restricting to minimum lies. Lies don't work wherever personal relationships are concerned. It hurts and it hurts badly, sometimes the being damage irreparable. In relationships, hiding the truth is almost as heinous a crime as lying; also it erodes trust which is very difficult to build up again. So I think it's better to face the anger instead of lying.

But professionally, it's a necessity, minimum 2 or 3 lies a day otherwise I feel hard to maintain the job. Now what they say in management lingo: communication skills, social engineering, all these things are a revised, refined version of lying. What to speak, to whom, when and how it all depends on the conscience and common sense of the person. Like any other art, lying needs practice and concentration.

"Any fool can tell the truth, but it needs a man of some sense to know how to tell lie": Samuel Butler

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Sunday, March 23, 2008

Silent Love


It started with a glimpse, on a cold winter day,
A young lad was walking on a narrow dusty way
He saw her for the first time, the most beautiful girl he had ever seen,
They walked past each other, a magical moment to him it seemed!!

That night as he slept, he dreamt about that girl,
About her crystal blue eyes, about her long hair curled,
He desired nothing else but just another glimpse of her,
Another magical moment in the near-future

And that moment arrived shortly, on the following Sunday,
They met again, this time on the market way,
His heart skipped a beat, it raced faster and faster,
His eyes only saw her smile, his ears only heard her laughter.


Love fostered somewhere within, and it grew day by day,
The lad visited again and again that same martket way,
He saw her many times, and secretly adored her,
Such was the irony of love, the silent affection of a silent lover.

And here I leave the tale, incomplete yet completed,
As his love was, a tale that may never be repeated,
A tale that will be lost, as a one-sided love or rather just an obsession,
A tale that was lived by none but just one lad, for whom this obsession was life, an intense passion.

And so a lost tale ends, of broken words few,
Perhaps someday it will resurface as a complete tale all new!!!

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Thursday, March 13, 2008

If 6 were 9


What if 6 were 9
Wouldn’t that be fine

If you’d be me
N I’d be you
Would I really be free?
Or just wish it weren’t true...

It would feel like having it all
But nothing at all...

I look all around...
And I kiss the ground...
Only thing I’ve found...
That ain’t going round...

Wonder when heaven became hell
Wonder when things started to go so well
Wonder when life became death
Wonder why I’m out of breath

My life depends on that one choice
That is the one which will make me rejoice
Am I ready to pay the ultimate price?


What if 6 were 9
wouldn’t that be fine...

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