Tag Archives: traffic

Daily Life, India

A muse on my commute

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I’ve had a couple glasses of wine, and you know what that means! My creative juices are flowing. Tonight, I’m writing about an unusual moment from today’s commute…

Prose first, then poetry? OK, then.
Driving home from physical therapy tonight, my taxi got trapped in Delhi’s usual snarl. I scooted across the back seat to avoid the scorching sun, but 110° F will bake you no matter where you sit. Waiting at a traffic light, I watched the regular beggars on the median. They were wilting in the heat, but desperation forced them off the curb. They circulated through stalled traffic, knocking on car windows and crying out, “Madaaaam! Madaaaam!” In an effort to affirm their humanity, I always make eye contact, smile and mouth, “No, thank you.” Today, there was a minor but interesting twist. A woman shuffled toward my taxi, carrying a drooping little girl. She approached with the usual appeal for money; her knocks on the taxi window inspired the baby, who gripped a coin. The youngster tentatively stretched out her skinny arm and tapped on the taxi window. Its “ting” jolted her out of heat-induced lethargy, her eyebrows shooting up in surprise. As her mother obliviously continued with exhausted moaning, the child smiled at me, conspiratorially. I couldn’t help but wonder how much longer a coin’s musical tapping would amuse her. Her time on the hip was winding down, and soon the window rapping would turn ominously purposeful.

Same story, poet’s eyes.
Balanced precariously on her mother’s hip,
bobbling with every sudden noise, so many sounds,
eyes momentarily unfocused on the tangled traffic,
skin peeling – no, simply patchy with sweat and dust.
Her mother, hand turned backwards,
raps with knotty knuckles on the window,
dink dink dink.
Her sequined sari limply draped across her face to block the sun,
Her thumb and fingers meet, gesturing at a hungry mouth.
Her silver ring makes contact,
tink tink tink.
This metal-on-glass melody startles.
The baby’s eyes glisten, suddenly alert, curious.
A precious one-rupee coin clenched in a tiny wet fist stretches out.
tink tink tink.
An innocent smile. A bounce.
A giggle of accomplishment.
A grimace from her mother, whose practiced pleas lose power in the presence of a gleeful child.
tink tink tink.
How soon before the coin’s music loses its magic?

Daily Life, India

Getting to Agra – worth a post of its own

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Saturday was Rahki, an Indian festival that celebrates the relationship between brothers and sisters. Sisters tie a sacred thread (often embellished with fake jewels or sparkly flowers) on the wrists of their brothers or male cousins as a symbol of love and good wishes. In return, brothers offer money, gifts or sweets to their sisters with a vow to provide lifelong protection. To celebrate this popular festival, families headed out of New Delhi early Saturday morning to reunite sisters and brothers.

Unfortunately, we also headed out early Saturday morning to visit Agra, about 200 kilometers south. We were told the drive would take about three hours. It took seven.

The van picked us up at 6:45 so we could beat the traffic! Woo hoo!
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The gang’s all here.
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Off on our “happy journey.”
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It seemed the whole city was trying to get somewhere else. These photos were all shot through the van window.
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Trucks all encouraged other drivers to blow their horns, and boy did they ever! Most trucks also had the painted instruction, “Use dipper at night.” We learned that using your dipper means flicking your lights.
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Our sweet driver Raju is not heeding the warning on the truck, eh?
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I have lived and traveled in places with horrific traffic, but I have never seen anything like this! Bumper to bumper with nearly every imaginable vehicle. I expected to get on the highway here in New Delhi and then exit in Agra. No such luck. We spent much of our time crawling through village markets, weaving around back alleys, dodging cows, dogs and pedestrians, and rocking gently over potholes and speed bumps. Here’s a little video for a glimse into our day. Note the guy getting a shave in the midst of the chaos.

The sights and sounds outside our van were so compelling that I couldn’t be bothered to read or listen to music. At one point, we were stuck at an intersection where every driver pulled in to the middle so nobody could move until a sweaty young policeman stepped in and somehow restored a fleeting sense of order. Our hero for the day!

If someone had told me the ride to Agra would be seven hours, there is NO WAY I would have done it. But I’m so glad I did! I hope to go again some time, although I’ll be sure to avoid holiday weekends.

Wait till you see what we saw in Agra…

On the Road

Ridin’ in the “Rick”

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I know them as tuk-tuks, but the locals here in Mumbai refer to these 3-wheeled taxis as “rickshaws” or just “ricks.”

Ricks can take you anywhere in a fraction of the time it would take in a cab because the drivers seem to have no fear of death. They seek out slivers of space between vehicles on the road and then wedge themselves in. You must keep all limbs in the rick at all times or risk losing them.

When we walked to a coffee shop during a break at the PYP workshop, these guys were cleaning up their ricks and getting ready for the day.
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After the workshop on Saturday, two other teachers and I hailed a rick for a ride in to the Mumbai suburb of Bandra. Imagine the twirling teacup ride at Disneyworld, and then put your pedal to the metal. I couldn’t believe we didn’t see any rick wrecks.
Our death-defying driver.
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This was the street outside our hotel.
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I bravely reached out of the rick to take this shot.
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After visiting a handicraft market (which I’ll describe in a separate post), we hopped in another rick. I didn’t record video during the most hectic part of the ride; I was focusing on breathing. Once the traffic thinned a bit, I thought to pull out my camera.