Role Reversal

Many times in life, we have stopped on the railway crossing – the “Fatak” closed as everybody waits for the train to pass. It was fun during the early days of life - Getting out of the car, guessing from which side the train would come and then watching in awe as the huge engine whistled past while you try to count the number of bogies in the train.
The same process turned into a nightmare on growing up when there was a shift of responsibility to maneuver the car through the scrambled rush that happens after the ‘fatak’ opens up. It didn’t matter where the train was coming from or how many bogies were there. As the train passed, all the focus turned to the smallest of spaces where the car could be pushed in so that you are the first ones to turn out victorious on the other side.
Mumbai gave an entirely new experience. For the first time yesterday, I saw trains stopped and wait for the traffic to go by at a ‘fatak’. It was fun actually – the 5th floor view giving a holistic picture of the entire scene. The roads leading to the fatak on both East and West side were chock-a-bloc with cars, buses and trucks waiting for the fatak to open up. The efficient Local Train service were plying nonstop – not allowing the fataks to open up. After around 15 – 20 minutes the traffic was all over the fatak gates like water just waiting to rush out of a dam whose wall has cracked. Finally the fatak opened and it was a mad, desperate, impatient rush of vehicles that poured all over the rail tracks.


The Dam breaks - Temporarily

The poor traffic sense of Mumbaikers ensured that a bottleneck was formed and there was traffic jam with cars stranded right in the middle of the railway tracks. As the officials rushed to clear the scene, 2 south going locals and a long distance train could be seen waiting some 200 meters away at Ville Parle Station. There were 2 more suburbs bound trains waiting on the other side. It took 10- 15 long minutes for the rush to clear. Somehow the railway people had managed to reinforce the cracks on the dam again. But it provided a fun view of trains waiting for the cars at a fatak!!


A driver's nightmare


Back on Track

The Traffic Jam

A Vibrant Sun Set at Shimla

It was a trip to Shimla after nearly an year. And for the first time in car – not driven by a driver. 2 days of 2006 and half a day of 2007 passed like a breeze – a rather cold breeze, I should say, considering the freezing temperatures there. On the return journey yesterday, I took turn behind the wheels. But we caught the peak traffic time when we reached Parwanoo. Kilometers long vehicle queues – frequently brightening red lights in front, bright yellow colors, angrily looking at you from the rear view mirror – tempers rising somewhere, horns blowing elsewhere and people breaking queues to form more parallel queues.
I have been stuck in traffic jams a couple of times – but that was always within city – where you could always take a detour, if possible or the car was the one which you have been driving for years, hence like one of your body part. But this time, the body part was a bit alien - I had never driven a santro before, and I had never driven a car on a hilly terrain before. So it was a bit hesitant me behind the wheels. A car in front made a brave move. There was no on coming traffic. He broke the 2 lined vehicle queue and went ahead to form one of his own – with zero space if something wanted to come from the opposite side. Then another went behind him. The temptation was hard to resist. So our car also made a dash for it. What happened next was what had to happen. A truck was majestically making its way from the opposite side. The 2 leaders in front of us were listening to the abuses of the truck driver. The next step was to try and reverse. But one glance back and it was almost a simultaneous “aaah..” from everyone in the car., followed by “lo ji.. phasss gaye”. The line behind us was endless. Then started the process of merging the extra line back into the mainstream. Some ego clashes, horn blowing, arms waving and forcefully cutting into other cars later, we merged, moving, at one point, only millimeters away from the stranded oncoming truck. The painful process of moving at speed of inches/minute continued for eternity after that. There were a few opportunities to repeat the foray we had undertaken earlier but only one or two were taken – playing it safe the other times. The normal few minutes journey from parwanoo to kalka took years. And everyone wondered how much time it would have taken had we not attempted the first venture.
As we steered clear of the jam after kalka, we saw a truck coming from opposite side bang into a car moving in the same direction. In a matter of seconds, another mini jam had been formed behind the two. How much more complicated things became as a result of that – we will, fortunately, never know.