On the Road

If I taught creative writing, here’s an exercise that could daunt would-be authors: describe a complex dynamic system in terms that allow the reader to appreciate the seeming chaos that somehow ends with appropriate functioning. The system boggles that mind, overwhelms the senses, and seems to defy any sense of logic and order. You should depict chaos in motion. 

Well, I’ve given myself this assignment in attempting to describe to you, without graphic aids, how the streets of India work. And yes, they do work, despite my initial reaction that we would not survive 15 minutes of our first car ride in India.

Off to do some shopping, our driver, Sangram, is behind the wheel of his sub-compact Chevy. Sangram is an extraordinary driver in Jaipur because he doesn’t honk his horn every 10-15 seconds, which otherwise appears the norm here. He drives slowly down our lane, avoiding pedestrians and parked cars, weaving a path down the narrow lane, letting the impatient, beep-beeping motorcycles go around or past us. We come to the intersection with the busy main road, where he proceeds to turn left without stopping. I’ve yet to see a stop or yield sign in Jaipur, and here the norm is to enter the roadway as if you were entering I-80 via the on-ramp. No stopping, just melding. The other vehicles move to the side to let you in (while of course, honking horns at you). I’ve stopped looking for oncoming traffic by this time, as it’s not something that any driver here does, and what good would it do? Sangram gradually moves from the far left land (such as it is) toward the middle of the road, never signaling his intention or receiving signals other than an occasion hand-gesture (arm straight out doesn’t signal a left turn, it signals ‘I’m going to do something, figure it out’.) To our inside, next to the curb, a motorcycle passes by us, using the couple of feet between us and curb as his (or her) passageway. Motorcycles here seem like mice that can fit though even the smallest crack to gain entry into a coveted space. And they seem at times to swarm like bees. Of course, I think that those cyclists ought to be more careful because the cows, which are not frequent, but which are somewhat unpredictable, may be down from their perch in the narrow median to lay down next the curb, serene as statues. 

Sangram drives a bit more slowly than many others on the road (at least those that are using a gasoline powered vehicle—the pedaled delivery carts, tuc-tucs, and camel carts don’t go all that fast). We’ve traveled far enough now to have arrived at our first traffic circle, where the veneer of lanes has been stripped away to allow the pandemonium to fully display itself. The rule of the road seems to be that one defers to the larger vehicle, unless you’re on a motorcycle, in which case you find a way around everything. The traffic rarely stops but tends to ebb and flow like water running through a mountain stream, sometimes faster in the straight, wide open spaces, but slowing when other vehicles act like rocks that slow the flow. 

There are a few traffic lights, but they are rare and loosely interpreted. 

When we arrive at our destination, having driven on this side of the road (left) and some on that (the right), we have again successfully traversed the gauntlet. I no longer emerge from the car amazed at our safe arrival. In fact, now having been in India for three weeks, I have yet to see a collision! 

Oh, yes, adding to the confusion is the fact that they adhere to the British practice of driving on the left side of the road. The legacy of British domination of India is a complex and varied topic that fills books. However, on this subject I’m sure: the Brits did the Indians a real disservice by teaching them to drive on the left side of road. I say this even as I try to set aside for my American prejudice in favor of the right side (double-entendre intended).

Namaste

Welcome to India!

This is my inaugural post for this blog and from India. Connie and I have been here about two weeks now, and we've experienced a whole new world. Some of the experiences have been wonderful, some amazing, and some have made us want to pull our hair out.  The world is made of contrasts, that's how we distinguish one thing from another, but when it comes to India, the contrasts are more stark, more vivid, and revealing than those that I have experienced anywhere else in the world. Because India is such a vast country and our experiences have been so vivid and varied, I cannot begin to relate it all from one blog post, so I've decided to describe one outing that we had about one week ago. It's intended as a representative sample of what we've seen, heard, smelled and thought. Welcome to India! 

One afternoon last Connie and I and two of her colleagues went to Javanti Bazaar for some electronics shopping. We needed mobile broadband  service (the way to connect to the internet in India), some binoculars to get a better view of some of the amazing and unique birds that we can see from our apartment window, and an RO machine for clean water. We traveled to our destination by in her colleague's car, and a whole separate blog entry will be needed to describe  the streets of Jaipur. Suffice it to say we made it to our destination, a crowded, roughly two lane street located off of the main thoroughfare. When I say "two lane street", you must understand that the concept of lanes in India seems only a roughly understood in theory and only loosely honored as a practice.

We parked about one block away  and turned right down the narrow street. Lining the street were small shops with every brand of electronics (except Apple) marking their presence. Rows of motorcycles filled the right-hand part of the street. This is no surprise, as motorcycles are ubiquitous here. We walked a short ways and turned into a small entryway of a shop that had a storefront of about 15 feet. The depth of the store was about 20'. The wall to our left was covered with a full color Canon advertisement. The store had about 10 people in it, about four customers and about six clerks. Connie began asking about mobile broadband service, and the conversation quickly turned to her colleagues, as the clerk (one to talk, one to get things, and four to watch), had only a limited ability to converse in English, and to get things done, we needed Hindi. The process for getting our mobile broadband, as with many applications for services or memberships here, began with a need for a great deal of paperwork. Paperwork is the by-word here. As this process was ongoing, I gazed out the open doorway. The other customers remained and watched C's transaction--this too, watching others do things, seems a popular pass time. The street was a constant pageant of motorcycles, cars, bicycles and pedestrians, all flowing along and past each other to the rhythm of constant horn-honking. I glanced over to C's efforts (slow going) for a bit, and then gazed outside again to see a very large white cow parked on the other side of the street. It had parked itself there to allow its calf to nurse. Both cow and calf seemed absolutely oblivious to the ruckus around them. I thought white cows existed only in mythological stories, but not so. Of course, by now I was accustomed to seeing cattle in the roadways, but in the high tech bazaar? The scene of serenity amidst the chaos provides a vivid visual metaphor for life in India.

After providing copies of drivers licenses, passports, and completing the forms, we are informed that someone will have to call upon us to verify our residence (this, it turns out, was only the beginning of the saga, but that, too, is another story). We score the binoculars and are ready to head out the door, but we must pause, as a herd of donkeys pass by, about a dozen or so, followed by two herders riding donkeys. Perhaps they needed new laptops, I thought. 

Is this a complete or fair view if India? No, it's a view through a pin hole. I plan to examine many more subjects. As I remarked in the opening, the contrasts,  the pace of life, and  the culture here are so different, and yet sometimes so familiar, that it's startling and worth extended consideration.

For those who would enjoy another view, my wife Connie's blog, Iowa Guru in the Pink City, offers her take on what she's experiencing. 

Until later, 
Namaste