Travel In India : Demystified Pt.2

I’m going to start off from where I left earlier, so read my previous post before reading this.

So you stumble out of the airport, lugging 2 huge suitcases with you.

You negotiate the 2.38 trillion hazardous objects that appear in your way : people, people’s kids, stray trolleys, taxi drivers trying to solicit business, dogs, uneven pavement, stones, rocks, a huge gap bang in the middle of the road where “pipelines” are being laid, moving vehicles, stationary vehicles and possibly fallen trees.

Also possibly some lakes that the Government likes to call "puddles"

You walk out and place your suitcases at a convenient corner and hail a passing cab. He ignores you and drives on.

You repeat this for the next 4 months till a cabbie finally stops, but you realize its due to the lack of petrol, as opposed to interest in a potential customer. You resist the urge to swear and hulk out and wait patiently until another cabbie stops.

He attaches your luggage to the top of the cab, where it precariously sits in place and never quite leaves your mind through the entire journey. It could fall off, or it could shoot off like a projectile into a nearby lorry or cow, and you could be arrested for terrorism with suitcase.

You pray to Newton and beg of him to cancel out gravity. He may not necessarily comply.

The taxi lurches forward, and you have experienced the last time that vehicle will ever stop between starting point and destination.

No, really.

It screams forward, with the driver screaming using choice “foul language” from inside it. He hurls abuse at anything on the road : cows, autos, other  taxis, other cars, buses, cyclists and even alarmed pedestrians who are more than happy to survive the Daily Indian Road-Crossing Saga.

"Those cars have awfully sturdy roofs...lets do this shit"

The taxi hurtles along the road like a mini yell0w-and-black meteor, but the speedometer disagrees vehemently with you. It stubbornly displays no more than 40 kmph, but after you glance over at the fuel bar, which says the taxi is running on no fuel whatsoever, you begin to have doubts and begin to fear for your life.

You glance to see if you are actually moving as fast as you think you are, but your vision is clouded by an ominous dark plume of what can only be called Satan’s cigarette smoke. You turn back facing front and tap the cabbies shoulder to remind him that he does infact have a brake.

He then gave you a KitKat

He momentarily pays attention to you, but is distracted spontaneously, having noticed an orange signal.

He floors the accelerator, pushing it under the chassis of the cab, and leaving you worried about the fate of your suitcases on top of the cab.

You can do nothing except close your eyes and grab at whatever is left of the seats. And also possibly piss a little.

Twenty kilometres and many, many near collisions with pedestrians later, the cab stops. You open your eyes. And you notice a traffic jam.

There are exactly a fucking million vehicles around you, each honking away blissfully and also some people using this unexpected opportunity to sell their wares.

The cab driver nods his head in disappointment, and that is when you notice the meter still steadily ticking away.

The cab then moves forward an inch.

Then same time, next year(or so it seems), the cab moves another 3.4 inches before stopping again. This is when you begin to philosophize.

I am assuming you are all civilized, sentient beings who use the “roads” that the Government provides for us. If you use those “roads” and have ever been stuck in a traffic jam(that discounts ALL the netas and VVIPs immediately) you should have noticed that you’re always on the wrong side of the moving traffic.

I am going to call this the Traffic Version of Murphy’s Law : the opposite, oncoming lane always appears to be moving. And I mean always.

Just like whichever cart you take at the supermarket is always broken.

Right? Right?

There has never been one situation which you’ve been in, when the lane you’re in is moving and the opposite lane is halted. You have never had the opportunity to put your head out of the window and laugh at those suckers stuck in the road.

You then hear a strange, yet soothing and welcome sound.

It is the sound of a train.

A station? Nearby? You promptly shove some cash in the surprised face of the cabbie, extract your still-present suitcases and leave.

But before you reach the station that is..somewhere, you still have to walk towards it.

Challenge accepted.

(That means stay tuned for my next post in this epic quadrupology about travel in India)

Posted on April 18, 2011, in Just For Laughs and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink. 2 Comments.

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