Predictably unpredictable

A garbled conundrum of traffic signals leading commuters to at least five streets, always packed with vehicles, many defying description – this is the major Valluvar Kottam intersection in my city of Madras. For the past few weeks, the traffic signals there have been completely non functional and there were no traffic policemen either. For those unfamiliar with Indian traffic conditions, picture streets with all types of vehicles – from pedestrians, bicycles, hand and animal drawn carts to cars of all sizes, price ranges and engine capacities and huge buses too. Generally so squeezed for space that cars’ left side-view mirror (India is right hand drive) is almost always folded up – often the right side one too.

Driving yesterday, I recalled my panic the first time I experienced the inoperable lights at this intersection – very soon after I began driving in Madras, very gingerly and with extreme trepidation – in 2007. For perspective, I had earlier done all my driving in pristine, peaceful, remarkably orderly and law abiding State College, Pennsylvania – a small town of just about 100,000 with extremely friendly denizens who would politely usher fellow commuters along, and where it is still not uncommon to see parked cars with the keys in the ignition.

When I go past the stopping line at the signals in Madras now, I recall how, ten years ago, I would have been well within it and maintained a car length distance between me and the next vehicle. Only to find that it was soon taken over by several two wheelers or a small four wheeler whose driver would look at me, show a finger and pat his head in frustration while loudly muttering, “Stupid female driver”.

I would literally be bathed in sweat, frightened out of my wits – the first honk and the first stare would get me trembling. Every drive felt like major surgery. Every Indian origin guest visiting from abroad (Thailand excepted) marvels that we drive here, and wonders how we do it. Well, ask, Chitra, Ramya or others who are living and driving here after several years in the US, and you realise that we all do it after swearing we never would!

The drivers had their eccentricities. One gentleman was really that- a gentleman. With one major problem. He was always late. Every time we called, he always said he would be there right away. Meaning a couple of hours. At least. The next chap was perfectly on time, but curt to my husband, rude to me and ruthless to the car. He believed in driving over every pothole and bump at full speed. The third guy kept the AC on throughout in the car to repose in, with the engine on idle. He had to catch his shut eye in the day since he did a night shift making parottas at a tea stall, which he told us only after the fact. By this time, I had had enough. I enrolled in driving classes again just to have an escort to take me on these streets.

I mentioned my various anxieties of local driving, including not knowing the ever changing directions, to an erudite gentleman who was a seasoned driver. He said, “But it is so easy here. You can stop anywhere – even right in the middle of the road – and ask for directions”. An old ex family driver added, “Madam, you just keep driving. Ignore any comments, stares or anything else. Follow the rules the extent you can and keep at it. You will be fine”. Between these two gentlemen, I was set right. I channeled my fear into constructive adaptation for local conditions – including going well past the line at signals.

So yesterday, at that intersection without lights or traffic policemen, I could calmly admire how wonderfully my fellow Madras motorists and I negotiated each other in an orderly and efficient way. Incredibly, the traffic there has been smoother than it ever was. I hope that traffic light never works again. Indians thrive in what would be chaos anywhere else, making them very resilient. After all, the only thing predictable in India is the unpredictability.