The Nostalgic
It was a hot summer in 1983. My mother sent me to driving school. A couple of years before that, as a high schooler in Dar-es-salaam, under the pretext of washing my father’s car, I had reversed it out of the garage, turned it around and put it back in (scratching it up a little – but we won’t tell my Dad that!)
The driving lessons were a joke really: the instructor had a set of important controls – the brakes and clutch. I realized fairly quickly that I couldn’t drive 50 yards without him by my side, clutching and declutching where needed! The real learning was to happen on my own, on the roads of Chennai, in my father’s Ambassador. I always used to take someone with me – his/her exclusive task was to put out a hand, and signal that I was turning left (we drive on the left of the road, sitting on the right), and to put on the headlights and wipers, for those knobs were practically in front of the passenger!
Cars have come a long way since. They now sport “A/C. No Hand Signal” on the rear bumper (fender), and the all important high-beam control is literally at the driver’s fingertip. Chennai too has come a long way. In the 80s, people still stared at the driver, if she were a woman, and smirked “lady driver!” if a fender-bender occurred!
The Hindustan Motors made Ambassador, affectionately known as the “ambi” was a solid car – a ‘tank’ in today’s Chennai. Indians traveled in large groups, and the ambi was capacious for people and their luggage. It was high, affording good visibility, and comfortable for long-distance travel. Sporting a whopping 1300cc engine, it roared down the marina at 50kmph without a shudder. I was a proud driver of the Ambassador.
When I married Ramesh, I met the Classic, (read vintage), Ambassador. It was a 1953 model, proudly purchased by Ramesh’s grandfather, and perfectly maintained by his father. Ramesh’s parents continue to maintain it to this day. It has no a/c, and gives about 8 kms to a litre of petrol. It typically travels a 5km radius to the nearby bank and post office. When we visit from the US, Ramesh and I drive it around a bit more, putting it through its paces.
The Street Scene
Driving the Ambi is increasingly challenging as more cars flood Chennai roads, and, real estate on the roads and parking spaces disappear! Neighbors ask why we don’t buy our father a zippy Santro (Hyundai’s small car for India). Still others suggest that we keep the Ambi for its vintage value – “they don’t make engines like that anymore!” What was a comfortable car is a dinosaur in today’s roads. It is a feat to pull it out of my parents in law’s shed (garage space) onto the crowded street (what used to be a quiet lane), and face it in the direction you want to go! [With so many cars parked on either side of the road, you are lucky to just get it out and go – let alone in the right direction!] Between the lack of space, and that of the power steering, one has typically broken in to a sweat maneuvering this boat out of the shed. The car has no air-conditioning either [Ramesh may refute that – for the Ambassador has a special triangular window, which, if angled correctly, can direct the wind in to the car, as it tears down C.P. Ramaswamy Iyer Road at 20kmph.] – was Chennai cooler in the 50s?
Ramesh and I drive when we visit Chennai – be it to take his mother to a temple or to make longer road trips. Steadily, over the last 20 years, we have seen the changes on its roads. The days of trying to get a couple of cows, which have literally settled down in the middle of the road, to move are long gone. [My uncle used to call my grandmother’s street “cattle avenue”]. The pedi-cabs have all but disappeared; as have horse drawn cabs. Cycles have also decreased, much to my chagrin. Replacing these are hundreds of thousands of powered two-wheelers – from little “mopeds” and “scooters” to motorbikes of varying engine powers. And there are cars. While once you had a choice between a Fiat and an Ambassador, today’s middle class shop for Maruti Suzuki’s Zen, Alto, the Hyundai’s Santro, Swift, Elantra, and enter the larger (for Indian roads) models, Ford Ikon and Honda City. Then there are the behemoth Tata Sumo and Qualis and the Scorpio (which America is going to import), and the most recent entry - the minivan, Toyota Innova, all vying for driving lanes, parking spaces and turning radii. On the public transport front, you have the infamous Pallavan buses, which tilt at a dangerous angle carrying 3 times the permissible load, my least favorite vehicle the “auto” (a three-wheeler cab), the share-auto (a larger, uglier and more polluting version of the auto), the maxi-cab (a large mini-van), notorious for indiscriminately pulling in and out of traffic to pick up and drop off fares, and now with the IT boom, gigantic private company buses, that ferry workers across the city, dropping them off at various points. Somewhere in this sea of vehicles are people: their pavements (sidewalks) have long been taken over by hawkers, and now there is absolutely no sharing on roads!
Rajani once asked me why there were no highways in India. I asked her to look around while we waited for the signal (traffic light) to turn green. Could she show me one California free way that could boast of at least 12 lanes of vehicles – all in one direction?
The Rules of the Road
Chennai driving is a challenge. (Did I say that already? More than once?) Most NRIs (the non-resident Indian is one who has left India to make a home overseas) give up driving in India, and resort to hiring drivers or using autos during their visits home. I am not sure if it is the proximity of fellow drivers, or the complete unpredictability of what the other driver will do, or the abject disregard for rules that makes one nervous. Many locals too have given up driving, and have hired drivers.
We have always driven in Chennai with a certain righteous attitude: we follow all the rules of the road (look that nit-wit, he doesn’t!), we are courteous (look at that ___ ___, cutting everyone off!), etc. But we are learning. We are learning that Chennaiites have their own set of indigenous rules, rules that conform to no international standards, rules that aren’t learnt just be driving for a couple weeks while visiting. One learns them by keen observation, and by driving in that sea of vehicles, as it deposits you on the other side of the river, and you have no idea how you got there.
1. Interpreting Road Signs:
“Free Left”
We thought: stop, look for a clear, safe opportunity to join the traffic.
Chennai rule: Do not slow down, do not look at the traffic that you are joining. Do not make any eye contact with other drivers. Just enter the stream, and drive on at your own pace.
“Halt and Go”
We thought: come to a complete stop, look left and right, and cross the intersection when safe.
Chennai rule: If you stop, you will be there forever! Just keep driving. The other guy will adjust.
“No Free Left”
We thought: one waited until the traffic signal directed us go.
Chennai rule: pretend to come to a stop, look around, and just turn left.
“No Entry”
We thought: we could not drive in to that road
Chennai rule: Surely you don’t expect me to be driving around all over town to get to the other side of this street, do you?
“No Parking”
We thought: you could not park there
Chennai rule: If you have a driver, you can park anywhere. He will move it as needed.
2. Driving Rules:
“Coming to a stop at a traffic light”
You thought: you stood behind the guy in front of you until you could move on.
Chennai rule: drive past all the fools waiting, get in front of everyone, even if you are blocking on-coming traffic so that you may the first to pull out.
“Turning right in an undivided two-way street”
You thought: you waited in the right most possible space in your side of the lane, when traffic was clear, you turned right.
Chennai rule: you wanted to turn right, right? So, get on the right lane, and turn where you want to! What are you doing on the left lane, nit-wit!
“Turning right when there are several vehicles in front of you”
You thought: you waited behind the guy in front of you, until you came to the intersection, and turned right when it was safe and clear.
Chennai rule: make like you are turning left, get in front of everyone, preferably blocking traffic, encouraging everyone to inch forward, and until the on-coming traffic has no room, and is forced to wait, while your side of the road makes that right turn – in 5 lanes!
“Passing” or “over-taking,” as it is referred to here:
You thought: Look for safe, clear passage, honk once, if needed, and pass on the right, when safe.
Chennai rule: bear down on the horn, flash high-beam non-stop, try the left first, and if the driver doesn’t give you room, try the right, honking and flashing. Be sure to cut him/her off when you do manage to get ahead.
“Turning right on a divided two way street”
You thought: you drove on the left, till a suitable U-turn was available. You made a u-turn and got to where you wanted to go.
Chennai rule: start driving on the right side of the road well before your turning comes up. The on-coming traffic knows full well that you are going to make a right turn soon, and that you can’t be expected to keep driving in the opposite side until a suitable u-turn is presented!
“Driving through an intersection”
You thought: I am on main road. I have the right of way. I am driving on.
Chennai rule: “Right of what?” I got to the intersection first, and I am right!
These are only a few rules we have learnt. We are mere students in this great college of driving knowledge. We’ll share more with you as we grasp these complex and unique driving skills needed to navigate the streets of Chennai.
Caio until the next post!
