Bye-bye Ola, Uber, Meeru and all the rest of them. No kaali-peelis, either. Or buses. Just a few auto-rickshaws of indeterminate colour. For visitors to Dharamsala, the best way to get around is by using the services of private or individual cab owners. And with every trip, my admiration for these hardy but seemingly tireless youngsters who plied their Marutis and Indicas, grew in leaps and bounds.
First, a bit about the roads they drive on: the roads are narrow, impossibly steep but mostly concretised. One side of the road gives away sharply to open drains that run alongside, with little shops, shacks and roadside vendors on both sides. That’s when they’re passing through the town. Picture that. And now, picture that with vehicles choc-a-bloc on both sides. And pedestrians. And dogs. And cattle.
Outside of town, the shops, shacks and vendors are missing. Instead, there’s the mountain on one side and a steep fall on the other. Now picture that with the same vehicles, but fewer pedestrians, dogs and assorted cattle.
Right. It’s on such roads that these men drive long distances, several times a day (and night). They tear around the bends, whiz up slopes and zoom down them too; that’s when the roads are clear. They also drive in bumper-to-bumper traffic without mishap, edge their way through a seemingly impenetrable mass of vehicles and find parking spots in minimalist places. And they do it all with a casual aplomb that’s completely missing in the cities. Added to which, they are also helpful and courteous. One young man addressed me as “Auntyji” and though I was grateful it wasn’t “Maataji”; it was a pleasant experience! The following day it was “Madamji” and I’m not sure if that’s a step up or down.
What we found truly remarkable was that in all this seeming chaos there was hardly any loud impatient honking of horns. Unlike in the city where the jackass behind you honks the second after the red light turns green. Or even if you slow down a little because the vehicle in front of you has slowed down because the vehicle ahead has slowed down because some idiot is trying to cut across.
We also noticed the complete lack of rude, angry gestures, of loud arguments, cursing and swearing in the traffic. There were no dirty looks exchanged, no name-calling no road rage, nothing. (In the paragraph above, I’ve used two rude words just to describe the city traffic)
All the vehicles, from the mighty trucks to the humble two-wheelers, co-existed in perfect harmony and the much-vaunted ‘spirit of mutual co-operation. They inched past each other on those narrow, steep roads with helpful words and gestures, two-wheelers parked on the side of the road were willingly removed to make way, pedestrians walked single file and moved aside for the bigger vehicles…it was a rare sight.
If only we in the city could rediscover some of this calm lack of aggression when we hit the roads. There would be fewer traffic jams, less stress and who knows; driving may even become a pleasurable experience! But for that to happen, we would first need to drive on the mountain roads.
butterfliesonmymindblog 