aditya kumar's weblog

I wish and I hope that I am able to watch this at Rangashankara sometime in the next couple of days. More information, here.

Update: [17 November 2005, 1910 Hrs] All tickets sold out :-(

I see the people who cross the roads in Bangalore. They try to sneak in within gaps of the never ending traffic. They look for opportunities that last a few seconds to cross the road. They run. I see that and I wonder why this seemingly simple act of crossing a road is literally life threatening.

And once someone takes the wrong foot ahead I see that person reaching out and making eye contact with the driver of the vehicle with straight arms and hands open, signifying a last, lame attempt to put an end to the motorist’s speed and almost begging all of them to slow down, have mercy… “I just want to cross this road; It won’t take more than 7 seconds. Please.”

I know this happens, I do it myself. Many times a day. Each time someone or the other on the road puts the wrong foot ahead and is trapped in the middle of the road. The final, “begging-like” rescue act is executed. Some get hit, most do not.

I can safely claim that being a pedestrian in this city is more stressful than being behind the wheel. It may sound strange, but I am serious. I was once hit by a speeding autorickshaw. I was not on the road, I was on the footpath. Apparently, the driver thought all his counterparts on the road were foolishly waiting for the signal to turn green so he took on the footpath.

An article that was published sometime ago in Deccan Herald claimed the city had to be made “Pedestrian Friendly” and suggested measures for it by modifying and making provisions in the city’s “Infrastructure”. I am not sure. I think the problem lies somewhere else.

In a city that has it’s infrastructure crumbling to an extent that echos are heard as far as Hongkong– “Pedestrian friendliness” is a concept unheard of.

In fact, I do not have a vehicle and since I have to walk everyday, what I face on the street as a pedestrian could be termed as “Pedestrian enmity”. When the signal turns Green- the vehicles are not merely “machines that carry human beings”- they become those highly motivated soldiers of the army and charge in as if they are at war.

So, you see, it is not any “infrastructure” problem at all- If a driver chooses not to slow down for the pedestrian who is in the middle of the road, crossing it, there is less the “Infrastructure” can do about it.

Is it so difficult for the speeding driver to realise that he was once a pedestrian? Or should the driving schools also teach that pedestrians are not to be run over and saving those 7 seconds are not worth threatening a life?

From the Truman Archives.

This post, was originally written on Sunday, the 23rd of January 2005. It has nothing much to offer but an account of my almost ninety minutes stay at a cafe, during which I almost completed a really wonderful book, while keeping a keen eye on the surroundings. Some of the readers might have gone through it before since I had circulated this on email.

Sunday was good to spend. I was about 100 pages away to end Amitav Ghosh’s “The Hungry Tide” and thought it would be nothing better to read the ending pages over a coffee. So I went to MG Road and there Barista has an open air cafe.

I have developed this habit of stopping by at every bookstore that I see. Be it a street vendor or a big bookshop I visit it, if it’s on my way and if time permits. If I have a book in my hand, the bookstore owner always(well, almost) requests me to let him have a look at it. While he looks at it, his face expression changes to give the impression that he is an expert in literature, a scholar who spends more time reading than anything else. While he flips the pages of the book, it seems he is understanding every word that flew by, every page flipped achieved something for him that previously he could not. And maybe it really did. Trying to keep himself updated about the business he is in. Trying to be with the times I guess. Nothing wrong in that. In fact, Its amusing that street vendors who, it seems, don’t even know English, talk to me, sometimes in broken words, ask about how the book is. They listen with keen interest and try to memorise the name of the author (If it is an author they are not aware of) and sometimes they come up to me, pointing to the book I hold. It’s a brilliant book, I am told. Has it been read by you, I ask, wondering about the authenticity of his last statement. The answer is (surprisingly) affirmative, to some extent. Read in parts only, so as to suggest the reader something. Typical book store owners mentality. And a good one at that by the way.

There are less better things in life than reading a book in the warm afternoon winter sunshine with the breeze blowing with your hand holding a cuppa latte. On the table next to mine, a girl with 4 guys, cribbing about life while smoking a cigarette. I do not know, but there was something strange about it.

A couple on the right, who seemed to be meeting each other for the first time. “I believe I can fly, I believe I can touch the sky”, quoted the guy, from the song by R.Kelly, loud enough to be heard across the table. Pretty strong words on your first day out, I guess. Let the lady judge you lad.

Then another girl holding a red rose, waiting for someone. I could see that in the brief moment when I took the liberty of looking in her eyes, which were quite oblivious to surroundings, expecting that known face any moment from the evercoming and never ending tide of people on the sidewalk. Biting her lips, cursing inside maybe, that men are always late.

Enough for a day I thought. And the book was coming to an end anyway. As the writer rightly puts,

“Words. What are they afterall. Like a wind blowing ripples on the water surface. The real river flows beneath. Unheard of, Unseen. With a story never told.”

Saw this sticker on the back of a car. It said:

“Mr Chief Minister…
WASSSUP?
What about the work on the Airport Road Flyover?”

Since the last 2 years, the flyover has been as is- no work whatsoever. The road crossing there which normally should not take more than 6-7 minutes by car in normal traffic usually renders the car useless. It’s better off walking there. Meanwhile, hope is there since the work resumed last month.

One more incident. Yesterday while our CM was touring Jayanagar in an Air Conditioned Bus, a group of ladies came in the way and stopped the bus. Their demand? “Let the CM out. Let him come out and walk with us on this road.” A heavy rainy day and all we have here is just mud.

I have lived in so many cities across India, but this has the worst infrastructure. Hell, it seems the Government is adamant to keep it that way.

More examples?

The 80 Ft road in Koramangala- this long road is the main road in this part of the city and all we had there till 2 months back was a mixture of stones and sand. Then they fixed it- only a temporary solution as now I see that the road is rapidly coming back to it’s “usual self” and driving regularly on it could cut the lifespan of the tyres by half besides testing the driver’s driving skills. We have a dirt-road adventure, right in the middle of the city. Or for that matter, anywhere in the city for it is the same story on every road.

And here comes the biggie- Sometime before March of this year, the World Bank (YES, the WORLD BANK) paid BMC for the funding of not just this road, but all the Bangalore Roads under the Karnataka Municipal Reforms Project. (Did you notice? We have a State level reforms project going on since the last 8 months. Did you know that?) Where has all the money gone? In the potholes?

But yes, work for the malls, which are coming up like wild mushrooms, never stops. There is one opening up just opposite to “The Forum” mall. Who needs roads? Who needs a better drainage system? So what if we spend 1 hour, one way, reaching the office because of the traffic? Who cares if Azim Premji himself goes on record calling Bangalore a national calamity? We need our malls. We need those escalator clad, centrally air-conditioned malls.

Later I came to know about this. The source of the “Wasssup?” stickers.