The Indian Road

When I made a decision to move to India, I was pretty excited about good food, inexpensive labor and the prospect of not having to do my own laundry. At the same time, I also anticipated some shock. I realized it’s been a while since I bustled with the herd here. I never worked in India and I got really comfortable in America. So I figured there would be some adjustment needed.

But how bad could it be? It’s India; it’s home!

The next decision to make was about where to live. Hyderabad seemed like a good choice – not a metropolis like Bangalore or Bombay nor is it a small town. Moreover, we still had a house there. So, I decided I’ll be around my mom and eat good food and generally be a nice boy and let her pamper me (as much as I could take it).

The first few weeks were pretty smooth. The guy from the bank came home to get my details and set up the bank account. An agent applied for a PAN card on my behalf for 200 bucks. Mom bothering me to tell her what curry to make for the next meal! I was just cruising on comfort lane.

I was settling down, and transportation was one of the few problems I faced. The plan of action that I had set out for myself was to decide after checking out each mode of transportation – bus, auto-rickshaw, two-wheeler, car. If I did decide to get a car, I had to choose between a hatchback, sedan and an SUV.

Buses were fine as long as I wasn’t sandwiched between people, sweating like a pig (which you will). Auto rickshaws were fine as long as they don’t decide to take you for a ride around the city (which they do). A motorcycle, I decided quickly, was out of the question - happened to witness a couple of accidents involving motorcycles in the first month itself. So, a car it was to be.

Choosing the type of car, on the other hand, was far easier: (one of my friends explained to me) - the bigger the car, the slower it moves.

Once I decided the make and the model, we just had to choose the delivery date. I wanted to get the car as soon as possible. But all the mad ruckus about Telangana delayed the delivery date by a week. Then I had to delay it one more day because of a “Oh no, you are not getting the car on a chaviti” deal.

There was some talk about taking the car directly to the local temple, but I had to put my foot down. I wouldn’t call myself irreligious, but I always thought that taking a new vehicle for puja and dangling that special nimbu underneath the number plate, was just too much. I mean, it’s a car for godssakes; it’s not like I’m going to war! I think I heard murmurs of “wannabe yank” doing the rounds; but I wasn’t going to relent.

Two days later, I got the car out of the showroom at around six in the evening and started driving on the streets. Within the first 5 minutes, I realized what my mom was talking about. If one has to survive this traffic, one needs all the divine intervention one can get. I just told mom I had an epiphany and that I didn’t want to hurt her feelings and took the car to the temple. Lucky for me, they didn’t see the expression on my face while I was driving.

The first three days, I could not go beyond the second gear! The fifth gear, I am still saving for the special occasion. Who cares what gear it is anyway, with a 1.2L, 63 bhp engine. 63 bhp! Now that’s gotta be a joke. I never thought things with 4 wheels had 2 digit horsepower. They should at least stop calling it ‘horsepower’. I sure as heck was missing my SLK.

And the streets, they were chaos personified – there were political rallies that blocked the roads, auto-rickshaws trying to topple you over, busses being bullies, hero-hondas and pulsars filling gaps that didn’t exist, bullock carts meandering, people waving hands and crossing streets, lorries trying to play chicken with everyone, traffic flowing in all directions at the same time (and there were more than 4 directions). I needed Judas to come and split the road for me!

Or was it Moses?

Well, neither came to deliver me to the promised land (Ameerpet, in my case).


(I'm just sayin', is all...)