BENGALURU: It might seem like an unpopular opinion, but the presence of huge traffic jams is actually a sign of an evolved city. For a traffic jam, you need thousands of commuters to know and follow the rules like civilised people. In my hometown, every afternoon is a Kurukshetra battle fought in Chakravyuh formations. If anything, Bengalureans must be proud of their traffic jams.
Why do so many startups form in Bengaluru? It’s the lifestyle! Getting a cab in the morning is a minor achievement in itself, setting off Bengalureans on an iron path to crush the rest of their day. Cab drivers call and enquire about the destination, and if it’s a cash trip. In desperation, you promise cash, an extra tip, and a part of your ancestral property.
This teaches Bengalureans important lessons about sweat equity distribution. Sometimes, the drivers leave the AC off. So you reach the office having sat on a Hot Seat, sweating like Tipu in the final over in Lagaan. If you raise your voice, you’re going to get a zero rating - and a low Uber rating reduces your chances of getting a cab the next day.
It’s a vicious Anil Kumble Circle! Bike taxis provided some respite from cabs, but alas! They are of no use during summers, rains and storms (which is about half the year!). Sometimes, you have to go through what I call the Bellandur ‘High Tide’, where the lake resembles the soapy foam of the detergent ‘Tide’. And the poor bike taxi riders are getting beaten up by cab and auto drivers.
In the Bhagavad Gita, Krishna tells us to face our responsibilities ourselves. So here’s my suggestion to Bengalureans troubled with traffic. However, this path demands intense sadhana and practice. Also, if you’re a woman, this column doesn’t apply to you - not due to patriarchy, but ground realities. Men anyway are used to facing rejection - from dating apps, to matrimonial sites, to college farewells. Men have been moulded to hide their emotions and look ahead - which is the No.1 rule while asking for a lift.
To get a lift, it’s important to think from the perspective of the lift-giver. You must seem safe. Dress smartly, comb your hair. Formals work best, and captioned T-shirts have provided the least results. As a visual reference, you must look like the harried man in a Saridon ad. Ensure both your hands are visible. You must look eager, but not helpless.
Like an IT employee worried about layoffs, but not an extra from the sets of KGF. Instead of the universal sign for a lift, maybe raise two fingers like a politician - you might scare someone into stopping for you. One could even try Adnan Sami’s hook-step for the song Lift Karade, for novelty. If you’re carrying a bag, you might want it in front of you while sitting on the bike. Indians are touchy about a lot of things, but they don’t like being touched physically. While on the bike, don’t use the rear-view mirror to adjust your hair. They might not appreciate it. Carry your own helmet along so the rider isn’t fined by the traffic police.
To sweeten the deal, use a placard that mentions your destination. Shah Rukh Khan did it in My Name is Khan, and Instagram influencers do it everyday. It makes it easier for the lift-giver to decide whether they want to drop you. Keep conversations to a minimum while on the bike - people are wary of strangers who ask too many questions. When your destination arrives, thank the rider, get off, and give the rider 5 stars - not the rating, the real chocolate!
(The writer’s views are his own)