Why Driving In India Will Teach You Acceptance, Tolerance

(MENAFN- Khaleej Times)

"The law is there to break.”

This conversation with a political friend happened decades ago, when I was a teenager, not even a youth. We were coming down the stairs of a medical college where we had gone to donate blood to save the life of a villager whose right hand had just been sutured back. He was a victim of political violence.

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The 'Please do not spit' notice in every corner of the magnificent building had been smeared with tobacco stains, and my friend was replying to my shock,“Why do people do this?”

“Gandhi did it to win freedom. The Quit India civil disobedience was a call to break the law, wasn't it?” My friend came up with an argument that didn't sound commonsensical even to my young brain.

Fast-forward to the present.“Why do people do this?” I keep asking myself as I venture into Bengaluru city in my new car, dodging all the mess and madness on public display. I'm armed with a spanking new Indian licence which was issued on the basis of my foreign road permit.

Driving in India, which BBC once famously called“the most dangerous game in the world”, is like playing the maze game. You can't do it on the strength of just a licence and Google Maps, the latter notorious for taking drivers for a ride. It takes more than the acquired skills. You need all the goodness of humanity to live and let live out on the road. It's an exercise in patience. It's a show of benevolence, kindness and love. Remember, arrogance and attitude will not drive you to your destination, but tolerance will.

Indian roads are where the system and logic do not work but everything else will. Follow me to witness how it all flows smoothly despite the commotion. Is there a traffic signal at the junction? I am not sure. It may or may not be there. How does it matter? The guys in the front have stopped. So have I.

Why should the driver who wants to turn left wait for the signal to turn green? He makes his way to the left by driving over a destroyed divider. If there's no free left, make one for yourself - if it doesn't hurt anyone. There are queues from all sides reaching the centre of the junction. No one waits for the yellow box to clear it off. You are in it to win it, so just race on. There is no screaming through the windows. If anyone honks, it's not road rage, it's just a wakeup call for the frontline drivers to keep moving. In a bird's eye view, it would look like a mammoth pile of earthworms that gets untangled by the law of nature.

Flower sellers saunter through the traffic looking for romantic drivers while police whistle echoes non-stop through the air smelling of a concoction of curry and petrol.

A crowd of bikers adding to the mess find space to squeeze through as understanding drivers veer their vehicles a bit left or right to give them room. Never mind a few scratches here and there left behind by the bikers. You don't need a police letter to get them repaired, do you? Neither does anyone go to the insurance to settle such silly things. It's all part of the game.

Why does that old man on a classic Lambretta swerve to a cross road? Maybe he wants to get his pension before the bank closes for the day. The guy in the left driving a BMW looks at the me half smiling. Isn't there a request pasted across his forehead? He wants to cut into my lane. Maybe he is too late for a boardroom meeting. It's OK, you go first, Boss. All is forgiven here.

Hey, hey, can I keep right here because I need to turn a bit ahead? I look at the guy beside me, half probing, half pleading. There are no words or smiles passed, but his looks show he is OK with that. Forget signals, we on Indian roads communicate through glances which work as perfectly as the GPS. Did I scratch his mud guard in the melee? But neither of us is crazy to stop and check in the middle of the chaos.

Yes, let me park in front of the veg restaurant on the Devanahalli bypass road. There is this security guy giving me instructions from the front, from the rear and from all the sides until I am home comfortably. My 360° human camera. And as it starts to rain, he appears with a parasol to keep us dry. No thanks, no tips; it's his job.

Even cross parking in the busy marketplace is fine as long as you are not too far from the vehicle. You are of course pardoned if the wrong parking is to buy flowers for pooja in the nearest temple. But be warned not to hit any stray cattle, especially cows, which are considered sacred, however malnourished they are.

Oh my! Look at the flock of sheep coming head-on with two old women shepherds tagged along. Stay calm boy and move on slowly, they all will pass like a real life tableau. What about the funeral procession with a musical accompaniment joining from sixth cross road? And the right-wing political rally happening at the teeming market junction? Never mind, just drive on. There is room for everyone and everything on Indian roads, however bottlenecked they are. You too are welcome, boy. Be part of the graceful mess.

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