Highways Stars

Indian Highways, a bit of Poetry and intermittent Panic

You check your car for all essentials like engine oil levels, diesel, a functioning ac, FASTtag recharge , tyre pressure , playlists for everyone .. and a bottle of your favourite poison just in case. All bags packed and you are excited to go on that road trip again. There is slight nip in the air and a song on your lips. You look forward to a wonderful drive somewhere far far away from the potholed city roads, inching traffic, ugly glass buildings and of course your annoying neighbours.

As you leave the city, discussions are underway about which highly priced restaurant would you spend your month’s salary to have breakfast with a 100+ noisy strangers for company. For a fleeting moment you overestimate your smartness. The drive planned on a weekday. Lesser people , lesser noise. But then, your happiness is shattered with the idea of it being noisier than usual. Children and vacations. The key to choosing the place now just rides on access to clean loos, your acceptable levels of it.

But there is always hope on other lovely things to look forward to..

These are summer days when an Indian highway feels like it has decided to deck up for your arrival.

The road stretches out, some of them are really clean and wide. You ease into a comfortable speed and for a few minutes you start trusting it. That’s usually your first mistake. .

Summer shows up properly. Trees on both sides even forming lovely canopies. No colours are subtle. Bright yellows, loud reds, Gulmohar going full festival mode painting the highways red. You pass through patches of shade and light. The car hums along, and you allow yourself that rare feeling that this might actually be a smooth drive. You even reduce the music volume, which is a dangerous level of confidence. For a while, you forget where you are going. Some people shift to cruise control. Car makers are collecting data and have a smile on their face. That feeling of getting closer to building an autonomous car for India. Then a biker appears from nowhere and reminds you this is still a group activity.

A little away from the highway, there’s a village atop a hillock. You don’t see people . A little far away to. A thin line of smoke rising from somewhere behind tall old trees. Perhaps brunch is cooking. Or some tea is boiling. You see a small roadside place. People have stopped for hot fluffy idlis as a board proclaims. A thought crosses your mind “Should this be a quick first breakfast for the day?”. You are told against it by your CGM readings.

As you feel the need for a leg stretch, a chai tapri appears overlooking the paddy fields at exactly the right time. Tea would be served in a small glass, too hot, and extra sweet. You stand there, looking at fields stretching out lazily. Is it the tea or the tender coconut that would make you happy right now?.

Further down as you drive along , a village Sante is in full swing. Fresh vegetables, fruits, everything looking so fresh and like it didn’t travel far to get here. You slow down because everyone else has. Cars are parked in a neat line. Wait , we consider a hapazard curve a line. Mangoes are being inspected like it is a once in a lifetime buy. Press, sniff, rotate, select. One stranger confidently says, “This is original piece, tumba channagide” and suddenly becomes the authority. People are falling over each other to get their hands on that particular mango. Innocent children returning from school are happy running around and wave occasionally at a vehicle or two ..

Back on the road, the trucks take over.

“Be kind to animals”
“Use dipper at night”
“Speed thrills but kills”

And then spelling decides it has done enough.

“Keep distence”
“Blow horn pleaze”
“Horn OK Pleasee”

One truck says, “Don’t angry me.”
Another says, “Wait for side.”
One has just written, “OK TATA BYE BYE”

This one below even encourages you to open that bottle of poison you carried with you just in case..

Just when you think you’ve seen it all, the road signs join the conversation.

“After Drinking Whiskey, Driving Is Riskey ”
“Be Gentle on My Curves. Feel Them, But Don’t Hug Them”
“Eager to Last, Then Why Fast”

A government department decided poetry might work better than enforcement as strategy.You sometimes slow down just to process what you read.

Highway trucks carry more load than they can and are testing the banking of the roads. They are also stress testing their skill to check how much more they can lean before they topple on the adjacent vehicle.

Then comes the toll plaza.

FASTag promised a smooth future. No stopping, just glide through like you’re a VIP. Murphy had other plans.

You pick a lane carefully. Not too crowded, not too empty and feel good about it. And then you spot the car in front .Stationary with barrier firmly down. The driver is in discussion mode.

“It is recharged, check properly.”. It is not recharged.

The operator suggests paying double. The driver reacts like this is a teenage heartbreak.

Someone behind you honks. Not angrily, just with hope.

The next lane starts moving faster. It always does. In another lane, someone is explaining they belong to a “special category” and therefore rules are optional. The barrier doesn’t budge.

Eventually, through payment, persuasion, or maybe just sheer exhaustion, the barrier lifts and you move.

And then, like a switch, the highway opens again.

An SUV appears in your mirror. Large, polished, slightly offended by your existence. It comes close enough to check your tyre pressure. Objects in the mirror are right next to you. You move aside. Not out of fear, just self-preservation. SUV’s have a “ jaante ho mera baap kaun hain “ written all over them.

Behind it comes the wannabe SUV. Same attitude, smaller budget, louder engine. It has stickers of I will someday grow to have a “jaante ho mera baap kaun hain” written all over me.

Now it’s a contest. Size matters.

The big one accelerates like it is already too late. The smaller one has dreams. Lanes are suggestions while indicators are optional.

They overtake each other repeatedly, achieving nothing except noise and mileage loss. Then the highway restores order.

The holy animals are on their way to work.

Cows

Some are not crossing. Just existing., just there. Perched on the speedbraker. Some others move diagonally across. The large SUV’s too have to stop .

A shepherd stands at a distance with a stick in his hand and a beedi in the other, watching this. A regular episode. The driver looks at him, and the shepherd looks back. He has seen a lot of egos from a distance. He lets a few 100 goats cross the road to add complexity to the situation and then smiles.

Sometimes these holy cows lock their horns across a car mirror .. the vehicles honk but in vain. The mirror reflects on things it has to go through..

The highway driving games add more levels to the equation as you progress

There are speedbrakers that make the car learn to move in Staccato. Another one has been laid with all the remaining tar the contractor could afford. He proudly claims “Saar, I have used more tar than the contract allowed . All for our village only, No? Nothing will happen for another 25 years saar” . He has reached new heights of creating these car breakers.

An auto with words behind its back “ Tande Taayi Aashirwada” has grown legs in all directions and a extra bum or two as the auto driver shoves in the 9th passenger inside when the auto is in motion..it is challenge to find out who the driver is by now.

You will also notice that Indians are ambidextrous on the highways . They can drive on both side of the median with equal ease . A vehicle which has the sticker with lettering of “Government of .. “ written in green is heading from the wrong side. One wonders if this is symbolic of the direction some states and countries are headed in.

A man in a dhoti and a towel tied as a turban starts crossing the highway. No rush, no concern whatsoever . He walks like traffic will adjust and most times it does.

A drunk truck driver is navigating the winding ghats to the best of his inabilities. The others on the road are saved by physics , prayers at small temples en route and luck in equal measures ..

And then, the constant. That one car.

The slowest car in India, in the fastest lane. The guy driving believes in palmistry still and tries to show his hands as to which direction his life is headed in.. the future is indeed bleak.

Mirrors are closed . The driver sits there, at peace. SUVs and bikes go around him with show of appropriate fingers and hands in the air. Trucks express themselves a bit more loudly. This is his lane. Highway, my way ..

A smooth stretch, a random stop, a toll story, a food detour, a race you didn’t join, advice you didn’t ask for, and a signboard telling you to drive safe around the curves.

You began the drive thinking about the trees and the food.

You ended it with stories

Stories of all these Highway stars !! You survived another day …

The way back home is a same game with very different rules.

Indian highways are the best versions of Calvin ball.

PS: Pictures are not mine, they are from various sources from the internet.