She rides smooth and fast, bends and gleams;
she smells like mahogany inside and carries you away like a dream.
Had it not been for her, the waging summer would have melted me inside,and I would have shred in sun,
sweat through my palms I would, and cry in the dusty winds.
It’s not a ferrari , but I love in nonetheless. It keeps me away from the fuming monoxide in the air and the dusty clouds of smoke. But the appreciation comes as a passenger than as the one at helm, for one of the agonizing parts about driving in Delhi is its traffic. It’s been five years since I took to steering on the empty roads, shuttling between the driveway and the garage, but the roads of Delhi are still a distant dream. I remember my initial days here, when my heart would pound at the sight of traffic, drubbing faster as each car would inch closer.I would close my eyes and wish for the cars to move away, but I am happy I was never the one driving.
Much to the happiness of Aristotle, Delhites are known to share a similar interest in volume analysis as him. Every trucker, biker and car driver that you find of the roads, though defies the laws Physics as and when it pleases him, has astute regard for the principles of Volume. Unsaid rules of the road mandate that every nook and crany available on the road is to be filled, for an inch left is an opportunity forgone. Delhites also firmly believe that the walkways are basically extensions of the roads and should be driven on, and empty roads are an anathema that need to be bloodied out of existence. Here to walk over the Zebra crossing is like finding death in its crudest form.
As the great F1 Champion Lewis Hamilton once said, ” F1 is easy, Delhi roads are not”, Delhi’s traffic is a tryst with patience for most and a thing of passion for a few. Maybe down the line, philosophy and mythology shall find a place for traffic, fashioning it as penance for all that has been done wrong, encouraging those who tread the slow signal lines to absolve for a lifetime of misdeeds. Maybe a congruence of such thoughts shall never meet, but if it does, our Road Ragers and the trigger friendly driver might find God in their struggle through the red light. A little empathy can go a long way, can save a few bullets and certainly save the ones who dread to walk over the crossing.
Dedicated to the Delhi Traffic, which teaches you that there isn’t a shortcut to anything in life, and bottlenecks are a b****h.