Delhi on the Roads: Where no one is safe!

Driving it is said, can be therapeutic. But not on Delhi roads. Driving in Delhi requires a bird’s eye view, a cat’s sharpness, a bull dog like spirit and a lioness-like attitude. That’s my learning for the day.

Driving in my left lane on the flyover at normal speed in all serenity, thinking about the beautiful memories that the long stretch of MG Road always meant to me as a Delihite; I was jolted to the real world when a speeding Corrola lost control and hit me, centrifuging my little friend, Wagon R. I was shocked, stunned but my action in the next ten seconds would decide whether I would live or die or spend the next few months in another world of experiences: a hospital in Delhi. 

Driving in Delhi teaches one thing for sure: Think fast, act faster and yes, never loose control of the situation. Applying the learning, I quickly put my feet on brake, parked the car on a side and rushed to catch hold of the driver.  I was too angry and too upset to listen to anyone. The lawyer, the social activist in me awakened and I decided to fight it out. Unafraid I got down to confront.

What was to unfold in the next forty-five minutes, was my next level of learning in life. There were three sets of people: first me who was the victim and the driver who rashly and negligently collided his car into mine; second, the running traffic on the flyover where 100’s of cars were passing by, but not a single cared to stop to help a lonely lady fighting for justice in the midst of maddening traffic and third, a bunch of pedestrians who found it amusing and were kind enough to offer copious advise on why I should let the driver go and how in three simple steps I can remove the dent without making an insurance claim.

After shouting on top of my voice for over ten(yes, 10) flat minutes that the lawyer in me has awakened and I can fight for myself and neither the driver or myself are deaf or dumb or blind, the free advisor-pedestrians left. But there was a voluntary arbitrator from the neighboring state of Delhi  who stopped his big car and just refused to go. Another ten minutes of fight with him to let me and the driver resolve our dispute and being the victim I was better equipped to handle my situation and if he did not leave at once, I will ask the police to lock him up; did Mr Arbitrator leave.

Now began the comedy of errors. I was frantically trying to call the Control Room. Unable to connect, I called up Just Dial and said that there is a serious accident on certain road and if they could provide me with the contact number of the nearest police station; the first response I heard from the other side was, “Madam, do you do service or are self-employed”; I frantically shouted, “There is an accident, a serious one” and the call centre agent replied, “Oh I am sorry, but by the way are you into service or self-employed”. Flustered I hung up the phone. Continued with my Just Dial and calling up the Control Room Saga.

On the other side, the self-appointed Arbitrator took the driver of the speeding car in one corner and asked him to give all the possessions, which the driver actually handed over. This Mr Arbitrator pretended to be like the Big Brother and took away the other driver’s mobile and all the cash he had in his wallet  and finding the right moment, quickly sneaked away.  The Driver, as soon as he realized, came rushing to saying that the man has run away with his belongings. The soft woman in me woke up! Now I tried re-calling the control room trying to lodge a complaint that sounded as follows:”Sir, a speeding car crashed into my car. The negligent(and if I can take liberty to say, )Stupid Driver gave his belongings to the ‘Self-Appointed Arbitrator’ who had stopped and despite my repeated warnings tried to intervene and now has run away with the belongings of my injurer.” The other side thinking I am nuts, hung up the phone. But I did not give up. Like a devout, a true believer in the Rule of Law(if the lawyers stop believing in it, then who will! If I as a lawyer do not fight for it, then who will!) frantically kept dialing the PCR and some fifteen minutes later got a call back. The policeman on duty said that the PCR van was coming(remind you after Thrity Plus long minutes of my calling) and asked me where exactly was I located. I told them the exact location, the pillar number on  the right, the name of the building on my left  and the name of the road; but the policeman refused to accept that I was there and said I can not read, I am confused and I do not know where I am(Oh really!). Angry and frustrated, I hung up the phone.

All this while, the driver kept on wailing, ‘Madam, please forgive me, please leave. Now I have even lost my mobile and money. Justice has been done!’.  The woman in me gave in. Finding him a poor driver, and poor myself too(for even the police refused to take my calls), I felt it was better to let things go. In India, Delhi-Haryana border, the ecosystems of modern India, the metropolis, ‘Sab Kuch Chalta Hai(Everything is acceptable)’. And we left, taking with us some important lessons of life.

My car is dented all blackened from one side; my faith in police is bruised; the posh MG road and the flyovers look unsafe to me, and all the memories that I ever had seems over-shadowed by today’s incident  and unknown strangers who pretend to be good –hearted mediators seems suspicious to me.  If as a Lawyer, I found it better to give up the fight even before it began; I wonder what does this India, the Rule of Law means for a Common Man. Disappointed. Par koi gaal nahi, Saab kuch chalta hai!

This too shall pass. Even after a thousand years, Buddha makes so much sense on Indian roads, in our culture.