The Barfing Ladies and other Short Stories

The company I work for is located in this distant suburb of Bangalore called 'Electronics City' commonly abbed 'EC'. A pretty trite name, I must say. But then, this is where some of the top Indian IT organisations are located. I am one of those thousands of worker ants trudging over to this place, every morning, on the single major road that connects it to the city: Hosur Road.

Personally, my trudging is done in the relative comfort of my car, but still very much a part of the sea of humanity that surges ECwise in the mornings. With just two lanes in each direction, the drive to and from EC is actually an intellectually engaging, and thrilling activity. One must constantly be aware of where the city and private buses tend to stop on the left lane, and where the intersections are (which tend to slow the right lane down). And add to this people and the occasional cows/buffalos crossing the road, and shoulders with random undulating pits in them, you have the makings of an excellent game for Playstation: On the lines of Formula Racing games, with a name like "Hosur Road X1", it's bound to be a hit. There always something interesting to observe, every morning and evening on these commutes. Here, I have chronicled some of the sights that have registered in my mind.

The Barfing Ladies.

What a great way to start your morning: the sight of women barfing endlessly out of bus windows. On one occasion, this was one of those ubiquitous rickety private buses that regularly ply on Hosur Road, with photos of famous actresses on their rear windows. This woman passenger, who obviously had had something that didn't quite agree with her constitution was busy purging her contents in instalments. And she had caused something that is normally unimaginable on Hosur Road - people in bikes and cars kept a respectful distance from the side of bus she had busied herself on. But traffic movement is unpredictable, and various unsuspecting people kept getting the shock of their lives when they ventured too close to this bus... I had a hard time myself, avoiding the voiding. This particular woman was like Old Faithful, very consistent in her job, and with the traffic just crawling, it was a sight to remember. I was only too glad when we got past a bottleneck and managed to get past the bus.

The Orange Fluorescent Shirt.

I often wonder about peoples' dress senses. When pressure to conform to societal norms confronts a lurking urge to break free of conventions, it often causes mental discord. But then, there are folks who have never been bothered by such a conflict. Like this guy I saw the other day, walking boldly, wearing a bright orange coloured fluorescent shirt. This guy was dark skinned, and the contrast was absolutely striking. I quietly applauded him on his choice, consciously or otherwise, to escape from normalcy and live on the wild side.

The Man on Crutches.

The other day I was heading to work amidst dense traffic. A man on crutches, and a woman with him were waiting on the roadside, wanting to cross to the other side. His face had a sense of sadness - he must have been waiting there a long time. His eyes seemed to stare into the distance, hoping for a break in the flowing traffic so he could take a few steps forward. When I saw him, I got this sudden urge to stop my car, get out, stop all other vehicles and help him... but I didn't. I'd just moved on in the flow of traffic, wishing I'd done something.

Honking/Flashing conventions.

The people who cross Hosur Road at night are actually very smart. It's usually dark, and it's difficult to see too far ahead when returning home from work in the evenings. And what with headlights of opposing traffic often on high beam, it's not easy for the eye to discern people darting across the road at night. So these people have realised that, from a distance, if I honk, or flash my light, to warn them of my approach, they actually start crossing the road confident that I've seen them and that I'll slow down for them. If I don't honk or flash my light, they're more careful and wait for me to pass. The opposite seems to work for people in vehicles waiting to cross the road. If I approach with my light flashing high and low beams, it conveys a 'don't you dare start crossing, because I'm not slowing for you' message.

This is one of those subtle tricks one learns on Hosur Road... it's a constant learning process, and there's always surprises and variety on offer.

Human Roadkill.

No matter how much you read about violence and killings happening all over the world, nothing prepares you for seeing for the first time, the sight of a crushed and mangled human body on the roadside. This was a weekend morning, and I was heading to my office to get a problem with my laptop fixed. There was relatively little traffic on the road, and as I was coasting along, I saw on the opposite side, a few police personnel standing around. As I got closer, the first thing that caught my eye was a human hand. And just that. At first, I couldn't believe that this was actually a hand even though it looked like it. Because the rest of the body was just a completely mangled mess. As I drove on, I just kept hoping that it wasn't a body I saw. My mind was overcome with a great sense of pity and anguish, and there was a weird sensation in my stomach. I felt no inclination to eat anything the rest of the day.

The next morning, I saw a small report on this in the newspaper. It was indeed a man, unidentified, who was hit and then run over by passing vehicles in the night. The sensations in my mind and body had subsided, and now I don't feel much whenever I recall this... perhaps I am now emotionally hardened.

A new handsign for 'Please'.

This is becoming increasingly common amongst cab and minibus drivers who would like to politely cut into your path, and get in front of you. The driver holds out his hand like in this image, effectively saying, I know I'm coming in from the wrong side and cutting you off, but please let me do this just once, please please. This really cushions my angry impulse of wanting to honk at him, and I actually feel flattered that this guy is requesting me to allow his transgression. I think this should get introduced into rule books across the world - it sure makes driving a nicer experience.

Akshaya - The lone tree.

Have you ever noticed this? From the Silk Board junction to the entrance of EC, there's just one tree that has survived in the road divider between the North and South-bound lanes. This is a tall healthy tree, past the Naganathapura Road junction, as you drive towards EC. I greet this tree occasionally when I drive by it in the mornings. There was a small board attached to it, pointing to some place called 'Akshaya'.

That board is now gone, but I've named the tree Akshaya. It's a pity that Akshaya may have to be cut down when the proposed highway on stilts gets constructed above the existing Hosur Road. And then, with the new highway, there won't be any Hosur Road stories such as these to tell either.

Update: I have added a new set of Hosur Road Stories here.