Indian road tales!

Curb(Kerb) less driving and complementary cattle crossing!

“The roads of my city are safer without me driving on them” was my excuse for the longest possible time for not taking to the wheels of a 4- wheeler until my idle minded, fuel stealing ex- driver literally and metaphorically showed me the right way. So, this scorned woman unleashed her fury by patiently learning the ropes from the driver in question before dismissing him, not only saving fuel but also her mental peace. Saving face in not having to badger a familiar, kind, acquiescent soul for a lift in getting from point A to B was an extra plus.

If the broad city roads felt unwelcoming to this novice driver, the by- lanes were even nastier, ragging me like a college freshie with embarrassing bottlenecking where your car decides to stop, hideous panic reactions make the most of your misery and you, the root cause of ensuing traffic jam are frozen in the car seat, feeling subjected to the worst public humiliation of your entire adult life. Troubling the hapless husband for a lift seemed like an acceptable evil.

A single teaching of my ex- driver I heeded diligently- that I was one with my car, thus my car danced with me on to the heady music tracks I loved playing, to set the mood for the long drive to work. It is unfortunate that folks not used to a jolly, swaying car on the highways honked noisily and manifested with the three cardinal signs of inflammation- calor (heat- anger), rubor (redness- color rushing to the face) and dolor (pain- torture).

Guilty as charged but all a girl did was employ music as therapy for her insufferable road rage. Mentioning which; as different are the female gaze and male gaze (perceptions), so is the genesis for road rage in opposite genders.

While women used to attention and pamper (as daddy’s little girl) claiming the entire road as theirs, refusing to budge from the center are enraged when honked to a side, menfolk have a curious case of the flattened tyre/ego when a lady whizzes past in full throttle fueling the male rage; first the home turf, now the thoroughfare, is that fair? Well, let us leave the small fight to the small fighters.

The bigger fight or plight on roads is the memory game challenge that the potholes and the speed breakers in random order throw at you. Vying to memorize them all, in order to maneuver them all, I repeatedly fail this test as ten new chuckhole challenges appear overnight. It is like those real time video games that just do not let you win. 

Not to mention the fight of Man Vs Wild, that strip of tar is as much theirs for sun-bathing as ours for sauntering; at least the lush green plants on the median strips that beckons the cattle-folk is theirs for the taking. As my 4- wheeler surrendered to this 4- legged force of nature and I rode respecting their privacy, these cattle- spread of traffic- teasing dainty cows resembled a certain condition of the mouth called “Geographic Tongue” where the patient bears multiple patches/ rashes that spontaneously heal, then wander to other areas, appearing to migrate and create new geographical patterns every time but never once setting the tongue free.

A rather tongue in cheek act also is continuing to display the scarlet red L sticker on the unfortunate car, nonetheless, speeding away as if in the Grand Prix. As a matter of fact, my friends unitedly decided that the bumper sticker for my car should read something like this .......⬇️

Disclaimer: The write up is a light- hearted piece on the road perils encountered by a newbie driver. Gender connotations are purely meant to invoke humor and not to promulgate intentional bias/ stereotype.

So, what does the bumper sticker of your car say? 😉

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