To the untrained eye or the uninitiated, it looks like utter chaos and spells certain, imminent death: the road is choked with vehicles and bodies of every kind. Pedestrians (and more times than not, loitering animals enjoying the tumult they’re causing) and puny bikes weave across lanes of traffic with nonchalance, where buses and trucks are barreling down.
This was the first scene that greeted me when we stepped out of the airport in India.
It’s not like I’m exactly new to this, though it’s also true that there has been an explosion of motorized vehicles on the roads in India — especially in Hyderabad, the capital city of the state I come from – in the last decade or so.
For the first two days, conditioned as I have been for the divided lanes and orderly passage of traffic in the U.S, I constantly said my prayers and kept preparing myself for a maimed body. At best. Morbid? Yes, but you had to be there to understand.
Picture this: you’re sitting in a city cab — about the size of a Honda civic — and a fully-loaded (as in people dribbling down to the first step) passenger bus comes and brakes right next to you. You look up and realize that there is just the glass window of your cab and three inches of air that separate you and the monstrous front bumper of the fifteen-ton hunk of metal. Gulp!
Ever so slowly, though, generations of survival instincts and the Eastern stoicism kicked back in, and I began to settle in. Every time I thought I was going to be roadkill, my mantra* became: Jo hona so hoga. Phikar karne se kyaa phaayda?**
Once I decided to sit back and relax, cocooned in the hope that my cab driver knew exactly what he was doing, my eyes began to see and my mind started to absorb. It was then that I had an epiphanic moment: There actually is an age-old order beneath the apparent madness of criss-crossing vehicles!
It was like an unacknowledged food chain, only this was a vehicle-chain. The man on foot knew where to look for guidance: at the vehicle just above him in the order, which is the bicycle. The girl on the bicycle paid heed only to the auto-rickshaws zooming past her. The auto-rickshaw driver had enough regard for the cars and taxis that ruled the road for him. And the taxiwallah*** had a grudging respect for buses and trucks that could crush his box of metal if they so wished.
No wonder in all my traveling on the road during the trip, I hadn’t come across a single traffic accident. Like my friend Jai Joshi said, when you’re on the road in India, your senses are honed to razor sharpness.
You hear a certain kind of horn behind you and deduce, without even looking, what kind of a vehicle it is that is pursuing you. Depending on who you are, a bicyclewallah*** or a bus driver, your brain does certain calculations and you either make way reluctantly or make a subtle adjustment to your speed and position so you effectively block the other vehicle’s exit.
The absolute truth dawned on me only a few days before I left for America: Indian traffic is an elite club to which not everyone is allowed access. You have to have a certain state of mind and stoutness of heart to even apply for membership. Once you’re in, though, it’s a lifetime’s citizenship; one that prepares you to face anything with élan.
–*–
* Mantra – A chant or a short prayer.
* * — One of the basic philosophies of life in India (and probably in most parts of the East). It roughly translates to: Whatever is meant to happen will happen. What’s the use of worrying?
*** Taxiwallah/Bicyclewallah: Two of the many Hinglish (Hindi + English) words in common, everyday use in India. Literally, they mean: ‘The guy with the taxi/bicycle’, but in this case it’s used to refer to ‘taxi driver or the one riding the bicycle’, whichever the case may be.
Loved today’s post! I will be looking forward for more posts to experience your trip to India through your words!
Thanks, KVP!
LOL! When I go to England I prefer to sit in the back seat. The roads are soooo narrow and dodgy that it seems like we are going to crash into parked cars or on coming cars all of the time.
I know exactly what you mean…. I come back from India every time feeling like such an amateur driver who needs plenty of space and time to navigate and make turns :).
*helpless laughter*
My word, this took me back. I could hear the beeping horns and feel the whoosh as a car drove past me. I could feel the dust on my face. I could feel the wind in my hair. Being on the roads in India really does make your senses keen to everything. I love it!
And I miss that sharpness, that unspoken understanding of everything that’s going on. Everyone knows the rules and everything words together in harmony. It’s brilliance.
Jai
So true, Jai; harmony of your senses with the surroundings — no chance to daydream inside your car!
Wow! Seeing more of India through your eyes is going to be a fun ride! :) Thanks for sharing.
Thanks, Dawn! :)
And there was me thinking that overcrowded buses in Cuba were a big problem. Obviously we need a few of my countrymen and women to pay a visit to India! :-)
Jesting aside, your post reminded me of an idea they are trying to implement in the UK (albeit in small towns and cities). They are trying to get rid of as many traffic signs and lights as possible in the hope that people’s instincts and common sense will prevail. So far the experiment has its followers and detractors, but the balance has tipped to letting common sense take over. I’ve heard that the same that happens in India takes place in Nigeria, too. The driving is chaotic, but somehow people get used to it.
Great photo, that first one is. Even if it looks scary.
Greetings from London.
Common sense, that is the thing, isn’t it? It may seem chaotic, but then in all my years of growing up in India, I have come across very few fatal accidents. That must surely mean something?
Also, traffic in India makes people very street smart; until I moved to the U.S, I never realized street-smarts was a learned behavior :).
I should learn that mantra by heart instead of singing “Jaane Kyun” from the Dostana soundtrack only because the refrain says “I’ll be all right, I’ll be all right in English! ;-) (and I had to check the spelling of the song title on the CD… but I don’t think I can add “Learn Hindi” to my New Years resolutions! :-()
Will pin it to my wall, so I can start memorizing it (hoping the pronunciation is not too bad, but I’m guessing Hindi is pronounced like Italian, not like English! ;-))! :-D
Thanks for the post!
Barb, the entire life in India revolves around that philosophy. If you can master that, then you have achieved an inner peace that is immovable :).
As for learning Hindi, yes, unlike English, which is a phonetic language, it is read as seen (as is the case with all Indian languages). However, the sentence I wrote has two or more Urdu (another Indian language) mixed in it; unfortunately, Hindi is not spoken in many places even in India in its purest form anymore… So, you may not see these words in a Hindi to English dictionary :).
Unbelievable! You have me shaking in my boots. Now, see what you’ve done? I’m afraid to go out on the streets in my little bitty town of fewer than 300 people.
Truly, your descriptions are very revealing. I had no idea there was such traffic anywhere in the world. I look forward to the continuing Saga of Hema’s Many Worlds.
~ Yaya
Uh-oh, Yaya, it was not my intention to scare you :). Hey, but then, there’s another saying in India that exhorts people to take the good with the not-so-good, and there’s plenty of the former in India. I hope to bring that side of India out in my next few travelogue posts.
Thanks for your support!
Wow…that would definitely take some getting used to :) Amazing picture, Hema. Looking forward to more!
Yes, it is different, but then that’s the whole charm of travel, isn’t it? :)
It is a beautiful picture, and of Hyderabad, but I can’t take any credit for it! I was too busy being a back-seat driver and so didn’t get to take a picture of the traffic scene there. I borrowed one from a free photo site…
Oh wow…what a stunning picture! how i envy you. i long to travel abroad!
Traveling (abroad or even to a new city) heightens your senses and makes you all alert, doesn’t it? Love that feeling! :)
There is an order, a method to the madness and an enforced hierarchy. The smaller vehicles have to dodge the larger vehicles. Pedestrians are the lowest in the totem pole :)
A totem pole is another good way of putting it! :)
Hey Hema, I love your breakdown of the Indian “Please Honk” system!!! I’ve seen videos of Indian traffic, and my logic behind the horns has been that of a sixth sense of depth perception. Somewhat like bat/whale sonar. But I like the way you put it: “You hear a certain kind of horn behind you and deduce, without even looking, what kind of a vehicle it is that is pursuing you.” Good deduction!!! :D
Look forward to more!!!!
Thanks, J.P! You definitely need a sixth sense and also lots of gumption to be able to drive in all that traffic :).
I think driving in Indian traffic would be the crowning glory of a driver’s life. If you can drive in India, you can drive anywhere. :)
I loved this write-up Hema. You put in such a brilliant way. I was always sneakily proud of myself to being part of this elite club and I generally am at my best when I’m behind a wheel or the handle bars of my motorcycle
Razor sharp focus is exactly right otherwise there is peril.
All Indian motorists are excellent psychiatrists. You should be able to judge with one look, in split second how a motorist or a taxiwalla or a auto walla or a pedestrian (old, young, kids, women, dogs) will behave. We can even judge by their monents – is he going to dash to cross the road? or Is he drunk? is the lady watching for traffic while crossing the street.
It’s a wonderful dangerous crazy world. But it did take a me a few falls to wade in this rough waters of our traffic.
BTW I live and commute in H’bad :-)
Thanks, Keshav! The healthy respect I feel for those who are able to drive in Hyd. every day and still keep their sanity is what prompted this article. :) I had a great time in Hyd. on this trip; more posts about this eclectic city coming up!
P.S: I didn’t know women were known for their general lack of traffic sense… same as kids and dogs!
Oh woman crossing roads is a dangerous thing. Because they are generally afraid (or maybe daydreaming) and they just don’t look at what’s coming at them.
They just cross a main road looking straight ahead… unbelievable. I think this is because of fear, a weird sense of safety where they think that “Not looking at Danger” will somehow cause the danger to avoid them.
Once I was travelling on Vij-Hyd highway on my 300kg Enfield at 70kmph and a lady was crossing the highway looking the other way. I managed to screech to a halt, few “centimeters” from her. In Fact, my front tire was touching her saree, I looked up and she was holding her baby in her hands (in a cradle position). She was blinking at me in Surprise.
I promised myself that I will NEVER bike on that highway again.
You just won a book over at my blog! Congrats! :)
Ooh, I’m hopping right on over to your blog! Thanks, Dawn!
To borrow what Jai said, “make your senses keen to everything.” I love that craziness and each year that we are back, it seems to have gotten crazier than the last. I love diving in to it head on. I make it a point to drive and ride my bike every year in Bangalore, just to feel that rush.
So the next time, that honking in the back might just be me :-).
Oh….you bring it back, Hema. Thanks for the post.
Sharoon
You’re welcome, Sharoon! You’re a much hardier soul than I am, sounds like! Next time I hear a honk behind me, I’ll be sure to remember to edge away from the road and make way :-).
Wow! My stomach is tense when I’m in a cab in downtown Chicago! Seriously! I think I’d never relax with all that commotion in the street!
Hema,
What a brilliant post! Can’t agree more with you. The rides in India can be just so adventurous. I was in Chennai during Chennai’s worst rainy days of 2010 and oh boy ! the roads embraced cabs like boats :-).
I actually loved the auto rickshaw rides on the less rainier days in India. They were fun!
Best,
Suma.
I don’t think I’d ever be brave enough to try it myself, but it sure looks like an adventure!
Loved it! One does need all antennas up and ready to receive signals all around you. Anything can happen in a matter of seconds – someone spitting from a bus, animals crossing the road, a motorcycle dodging through….It surely takes a lot to become part of this confusion but once we are in then we realise that there is some order in this madness too. I have seen drivers who never look at the rear view mirrors or the side-view mirrors. In fact the side-view mirrors are folded in or even removed due to the fear of being knocked or even stolen. I am still fascinated by the sign language between the drivers of big and heavy vechicles and smaller ones. A flick of an eye-lid, wave of hand to, flashing of indicators, sounding the horn – all these to help a smaller vehicle to over-take the bigger one safely on a highway. Indian traffic is surely not for the faint hearted :-). I have stopped sitting in the front seat these days because my blood pressure shoots up. Sit at the back and take a deep breath and just let go!
Thanks, knot2share! Oh, gosh, you reminded me of those scary missiles (like paan-spits and all) from the windows of buses that may descend upon the hapless any time. ‘Take a deep breath and let go’ is the only way to go!
Thanks for stopping by! The name of your blog has piqued my interest: I’ll have to go to your blog now and see what it is that you do knot want 2 share! :-)
I have been experiencing that for the past month now — and you painted a perfect picture :)