The Road Code

Raymond

 

If there was one place where "rules were made to be broken" it would have to be on Indian roads - it is a place where everyone is in a hurry, yet no one is on time.

 

A conglomeration of cars, buses, bicycles, tuk-tuks and pedestrians (footpaths have been occupied by peoples' homes and stores) congest the pothole riddled roads, taking the concept of "every man for themselves" to the next level. Absolute pandemonium ensues as each vehicle fights for every available space on the road. Drivers blatantly ignore and violate probably every known traffic rule. There is a ubiquitous sense of disorder as even the police struggle to govern the traffic. Obsessively using the horn is a rite of passage, even in the most unnecessary of circumstances. Indicating is a foreign concept as well as giving way; perhaps even driving on the correct side of the road is yet to be introduced to some in this country. Road lanes are simply arbitrary lines painted on the concrete, more of a decoration rather anything functional. Traffic lights are about the only instrument that have any legitimacy, and even then, they are obeyed in a very liberal manner.  

 

From vintage buses, which are certainly unfit for purpose, to taxis that are positively museum pieces, the group has all had the immense privilege of experiencing this, umm, anarchy. However, without a doubt, the most entertaining (and possibly uncomfortable) form of transport would have to be the autorickshaw – more affectionately known as tuk-tuks. How these vehicles are road worthy (and legal) I cannot comprehend, as from a quick visual analysis at them, one can deduce that these are more toys than something that can safely transport them from A to B. To call these novelties "secure" would be a definite exaggeration as you are seated within this very primitive frame, largely exposed to the elements (thankfully this thing has a roof) and only inches away from other road users. With this in mind, our primary form of transport in Jaipur was, you guessed it, these tuk-tuks. Fantastic.

 

Our driver Ali – or as he calls himself, "handsome Ali' – was undoubtedly a personality. Living by the mantra Hakuna Matata, this man's need for safety was secondary to his need for speed as he boasted about how fast his little vehicle could speed up to. And indeed, this was the case. His reluctance to use the brake pedal ensured we were well over the speed limit, and always ahead of the other rickshaws (with the notable exception of his leader). Leaving his passengers (Mr. Crook, George and me) on the edge of their seats, he weaved, wiggled and squirmed through the dense traffic without any regard for the other occupants of the road.

 

He does this and at the same time has the amazing ability to hold a conversation with his customers, the contents of which are best left in the tuk-tuk. As the night approaches, the rickshaw was filled with the sweet melodies of our voices as we banged out whatever song came to mind – from the National Anthem to Barbie girl (and yes, the staff member present was also an active participant in this exercise too). Strangely enough, singing (despite having the poorest voice known to man) loudly and dreadfully – thus simultaneously receiving strange looks from nearby people – imparted me with a very emancipative feeling.  

 

Nevertheless, every time we are able to make it through this mess and arrive at our destination all in one piece, albeit slightly late. Indian roads are a battleground full of hectic revelry and disorder, but I absolutely love it. To put it simply, when asked "what are they doing?", in regard to the police force's questionable presence (and quite possibly the existence of any road laws), George Skinner's response of "their best", successfully sums up their effectiveness. There's no place I'd rather be.