BENGALURU: Even as a youngster, I thought of myself as an old man. Pet peeves would rile me up, everyday occurrences would spite me. All my life, I have complained and cribbed about traffic in cities. A firm believer of public transport (while not a frequent commuter), nothing annoys me more than people stuck behind each other in vehicles. ‘Rage’ is a strong word, but I admit to suffering from a mild case of Road Irritation.
With IT companies calling their employees back to offices, traffic on the roads is beginning to resemble pre-pandemic levels. The ‘Deja-phew’ comes sweeping back – of waiting hopelessly in traffic while staring at nothing in particular. Of looking at the time a few times and eventually leaving it to destiny.
But this time, instead of cribbing, I’d like to welcome the traffic back with open arms. If I’m being completely honest, I had begun to miss the traffic. One of my early memories of the pandemic is stepping out to buy essentials a few days after the lockdown was announced. There wasn’t a soul in sight. My favourite shops were shut, even the stray dogs did not wag their tails to greet me. The streets looked like the sets of a zombie-apocalypse movie starring Tom Cruise. It made me both sad and scared at the same time. That’s when I realised how much I miss the traffic.
The long hours of waiting, the incessant honking of cars – a Morse code of its own. A honk when someone overtakes, or when the light turns green. A honk when the clock strikes 4.20 pm, or if it’s a Wednesday, or the birthday of a local MLA. A morse code with absolutely no code of honour. I want to hear the white noise of frustrated drivers again. I miss the folks who gulp down a can of energy drink and graciously leave the last few drops for co-commuters on the road. Or those who occupy the window seats in buses, and spit benevolently upon those on the road.
People who park bikes, and quickly run to relieve themselves by the side of the road. Or those cousins of Doctor Strange, who pause all traffic by stretching out their hand in front of incoming vehicles. Give me back that one genius who decides to reverse at a U-Turn, causing the traffic behind him to metamorphose into a gigantic snail. The cow chewing cud nonchalantly in the middle of the road, musing about its increased status in society. The people who sell stuff at traffic spots – analog versions of Instagram influencers – selling everything from abnormally long pens to fidget spinners. I have been missing all of them.
Increased traffic is a sign of people returning to cities, of humanity crawling back to normalcy. Shops and bars will be open again, playing songs loud enough for Martians to headbang to. Strangers will share drinks and step out as friends. Pubs will echo with the independent voices of young singers. People will gather to listen to comedians with mics in hand and fears in their hearts. People will look at their phones at 11.30 pm and do a mental calculation of how much they drank, how far they must drive, and where the ‘police checking’ might be set up.
Give me back the traffic – that constantly throbbing lifeline of the city. That vein pumping through the city’s heart – buzzing, honking and smoking. Give me back the chaos, the noise, smoke, and the intermittent spikes in blood pressure. Give me back the traffic. Let me watch my city thrive again!
The writer’s views are his own