The Ugly Indian Initiative

     I'm not new to dirty roads. I've shared my life with them for over two decades. I have managed to ignore all the potholes, the roadside garbage, the urinal-walls. I didn't think of these features as good or bad, I just accepted that they exist. I'm not alone in this, we (desi types) all have a chalta hai attitude. We are like this only - we tell each other. Even the television advertisements proudly glorify this nature as 'Indian'.

     In the midst of such rhetoric, I came across this website called The Ugly Indian which really caught my attention. It is actually trying to change things from a ground up level. Check it out for yourself. I really like their motto (from their Facebook page) -

Our motto: Kaam Chalu Mooh Bandh.

No activism, no lectures, no awareness drives, no moralising. Just go out and do it.

     Being in the USA now, there is not much I can do for this 'movement' happening in Bangalore and hopefully other Indian cities. I'm thinking of ways in which I can contribute to this movement. As a computer engineer the best way I can think of making a difference is by a commentary on their website. So here goes...

     The website seems to be very well designed. The first page of the site has just one question - Why are Indian Streets filthy? And the question has four choices that you have to answer before you can proceed. I like this because it makes you think and puts the onus on you, the reader to make a choice.

    The purpose of the site is clear, there are no distractions with a frugal yet tasteful background. While the website is clean and fresh looking, the pictures depicted are sometimes downright filthy. This brings a sense of contrast to the mind. It makes you feel like walking to the roads, cleaning the mess and putting up pictures of spotless roads.

     Most of the sentences are short and simple (especially in the second page) and hard to miss. For the thick skinned who still manage to miss, the really important points ones are in bold.

     The site reflects the take-action nature of this initiative. The photo examples of spot-fixing, with Before and After pictures demonstrate the impact these people are having. The examples are results-oriented with not a lot of preaching. The site clearly makes a call for action and makes you want to be involved.
 
      The website has a certain flowing structure and seems to be designed primarily for first time users - first you answer a poll question, then you see a summary, then look at practical examples of spot-fixing, and then the "I’ve seen enough. So, what’s the point? " link to convert you, the ugly Indian to a more caring person.

     I do feel that navigation of the website has some room for improvement. The structure the website can appear restrictive at times, especially if you are a returning visitor and you still need to go through the first few pages to reach a page you were actually interested in. For example I never discovered the About Us page until my 4-5th visit to the website - usually you would expect this page to be available very easily to a visitor.

     All-in-all, The Ugly Indian is a great initiative. I hope they are successful in changing the mindset of a majority of city-dwellers. I'll be following this group closely!

ITPL. Traffic. Politicians.

The company I work for happens to be located in ITPL (International Tech Park Limited). It’s actually ITPB (International Tech Park Bangalore) and this is how you will find it on the web. ITPL is a huge place and with an aura of regality around it. But don’t let that deceive you. It’s almost like a city on the outskirts of a city. ITPL is home to many IT people in more ways than one – in addition to working , the people live here from morning to late evening, doing all their stuff in ITPL and returning to their ‘room’ or home only to sleep at night. If there were enough bunkers or cheap accommodation available, there would be a group of people who wouldn’t see the outside of ITPL gate for weeks on end.

The main pain in the backside about working at ITPL is the commute. This is especially severe if you stay out of a 5 km radius from ITPL, and it varies acc to the square (or cube ?) of the distance of your dwelling from ITPL. The two big factors exacerbating the pain in the pain in the backside are peak hour traffic (figurative pain ) and the bumpy roads (literal pain).

Peak hour traffic: traveling a great distance up and down to ITPL teaches you a great deal about time management (or conversely teaches you what a mega disaster can await you if DON’T practice time management). It’s a little like water surfing, only instead of trying to ride the crest of a wave; you try like hell to avoid the crest of the traffic. You need to time yourself just right. There’s a fine line between getting caught in a maddening peak hour traffic jam, and sailing through greeny traffic signals one after the other in a smooth flow. Like all other lessons of life this comes only with practice and experience. For example if I leave my home at JP Nagar at 7:30 am or earlier (on my bike), I can comfortably reach office in 45 minutes, worst case. But leave at 8:15 am, and I’ll take at least an hour and a half. Missing the time window has severe consequences, the time taken to reach ITPL leaving home at 9:00 am can easily be upto two and a quarter hours.

Bumpy Roads: Ah bumpy roads of Bangalore! No dearth of words can describe the wrath you unleash on the poor Bangalorean soul. The basic funda is : Don’t sit on the last few seats in the ITPL bus, unless you cant afford Dashing Cars at WonderLa (at least in dashing cars you can get down in 5 minutes). Also you are screwed at both ends because sitting too front near the engine will make your eardrums scream for mercy. But of course the option of the middle seats first goes to the traffically handicapped. These are the people who wear collars around the neck or carry special pillows to sit on.

Not too early to coin the word Traffic Related Injuries or TRI? Remember you heard about it here first. The unemployed youth can organize mass ergonomics classes with themes like

• Best Practices while travelling in the Bus
  
• Traffic Yoga – Calm yourself and make three hours of traffic a pleasure
• Rulebook of Ideal Sitting Postures while travelling (available for all vehicles)
  

This way we can solve unemployment and traffic related problems in the same breath.
But wait! This can give birth to a new economy too, which focuses on traffic.I can already imagine the brash young politicians talking..

Guptaji Dude “To hell with roti, kapada aur makaan ….the future is in traffic, jaan! We need to build more city outskirts and inject traffic problems into these outskirts, so that we can solve them later. ”

Mukeshji Dude “Now we’re in luck. All cities In India are built embodying the lofty goals of frugality and simplicity. So they have little or no roads at all.”

Guptaji Dude “Right … the small city will form the core of our master plan. All we need to do is to declare some fad announcements like SBZ‘s … “

Mukeshji Dude “It’s actually called Special Economics Zones (SEZ's) dude…”

Guptaji Dude “Ya Ya I know you have completed 11th standard your own, stop showing off. You know dad gifted me a MBA Degree for my birthday, so remember who you are talking too ! Anyway, we will make a lot of Special Economics Zones and similar things. And all the IT companies will fall over each other to set up companies here. While letting out this place we’ll just make sure the roads are not too big! Plan good enough? “

Mukeshji Dude “I don’t think we can build bigger roads even if we wanted to! (Polite heh hehs from the chamchas and politicians) Also we SHOULD not build bigger roads. Our forefathers have worked so hard for this; there haven’t been big roads in India since time immemorial. We may be the future, but we can’t forget where we come from! “

One chamcha gets up and starts playing “Yeh jo desh hai mera ” at the background.

Confused Cyclist

Am I a vehice or am I a man…
which of these two roles should I don
when I'm stuck in a terrible traffic jam

Slowly but surely I can weave my way
between honking cars and smoking buses
without being led by glaring autos astray

Now that Ive reached the end of the line
I see a traffic policeman ready to foil my plan
can I ride across the signal and yet avoid a fine ?

On both road and pavement Im in no mans land,
equipped with only a useless bell going tring tring
why, why such fate had God for me planned?

Evil Bus Driver

It was a pleasantly cool Monday morning. I walked to my bus stop with a spring in my step and a song in my heart. I had downloaded some good songs on my I-pod didn’t have much work in office today. As I walked, I passed across people in sweatshirts jogging and doing exercises. Dogs some leashed, some unleashed took their owners for a walk. Kids were playing football in the playground. I glanced at my watch and slowed down a little. I still had five minutes to go. The bus was to come at seven thirty in the morning. The driver’s watch was 15 min late and he didn’t know how to change it, because he always came at seven forty five. It was seven twenty eight and I would still have quite some time to listen to songs in the relatively calm bus stop, without the default traffic remix the bus provided. I came to my bus stop and said the customary hi to my bus-mates (if that’s a word).

I was in the middle of my third song when a bus-mate got a phone call from a friend. It appeared that the bus had already left. Amidst groans and boos, all of us began to form groups of two or three. We had to now travel to the nearest bus stop in auto, about 2 km away. The morning was not pleasantly cool anymore. It was chilly.

I got up earlier than usual the next day. I hurriedly had cornflakes and milk, forgoing the one decent home-cooked meal I would otherwise have. Having ironed my clothes last night itself, I was left with ten minutes to spare before it was seven twenty, the usual time I left home. I didn’t spend the ten minutes at home. I grabbed a book and my iPod and left for the bus stop with a song in my heart but no spring in my step, more with a hurried scuttle across crisp black asphalt. I reached the bus stop at seven seventeen and only then could I heave a sigh of relief. I knew I had at least fifteen minutes to spend in the bus stop. Over the next few minutes some more of my bus-mates joined me at the bus stop, all hoping they hadn’t missed the bus. We waited, mostly patiently.

Seven thirty.

Seven thirty two. No bus at the horizon.

At seven thirty six we finally saw a Pushpak bus weaving its way through small obstacles like cars, bullock carts and potholes. As it came closer, groans and boos resounded again. It was not an ITPL bus.

It would have been interesting to watch how people react to irritation and anxiety, had I not been in the same situation myself. Some stress busting techniques I noticed were quite quirky. A started cleaning his ears compulsively, using up up to six ear buds. B was having an argument with her husband. From what I made out the kind hubby wanted to wait till B got into the bus physically, but B was bothered by this for some strange reason and kept shooing him away without success. C seemed to be unprepared for an important meeting and after several minutes of deliberation, decided to open up his laptop and start working on his ppt. Seeing street urchins seeing him, his face reddened and he hurriedly closed the laptop before the urchins could have a good glimpse at the laptop. I, for my part had taken to straining my neck and glancing up and down the read much like I would probably do in a tennis match. This was because our bus stop was such that the bus could arrive from either side of the road. I’m not kidding.

There was a brief period of time when we all decided that the bus would come at the usual Indian standard time of seven forty five and we relaxed. I say brief because just a few moments later seven forty five passed us. Without the bus.
Till now all had kept mostly to themselves. By seven fifty however, there were signs of group protest. Most people probably thought” So its seven fifty now. The bus is officially late. I can speak ill of the driver with a free conscience... ”. A whispered murmuring broke out followed by heated gossip which then culminated in intermittent outbursts of raucous laughter aimed at the driver. All jobless people at the bus stop almost had a very good time with the attention their jokes got.

One or two people decided to take a rickshaw to the nearest bus stop. Finally the bus came at seven fifty. We got in, each of up competing with the other to give an evil stare at the bus driver. We reached office forty minutes late. The timing of our trip was perfect; we didn’t miss a single traffic jam that could have been possible on our 28km journey to ITPL.

Home Bound

Bumpy Roads
Half Filled Bus
Window Seat
Sudden Break
Screeching Halt
Anxious Whispers
Lucky Escape
Relieved Sighs
Speedy Recovery
Endless Highway
Deserted Landscape
Rustling Breeze
Animated Discussions
Ridiculous PJ's
Furtive Glances
Knowing Smile
Traffic Jam
Horning Cars
Teeming Malls
Garbags Dumps
Traffic Jam
Roadside Temples
Mercedes Benz
Snakelike Streets
Sleepy Suburbs
Idling Engine
Quick footsteps
Musical Doorbell
Pregnant Silence
Home Sweet Home

.

Bangalore--Its a jungle in here.

The temple priest is surprised. "Very good, Nikhil, very good. You have finally realised that God is all powerful and omniscient. That is why you are here every morning to pay due respects to Anjaneya" (he actually spoke in shuddha Kannada but since blogger does not provide Devanagari font, I have decided to translate (transmaul?)his great words in English) I squirm uneasily at this point and make an ambivalent gesture to indicate that I have indeed become wiser. Little does the priest know my intentions are much more cowardly. I come to the temple out of fear.

I am afraid, terrified of the Roads Of Bangalore(ROB). Yes, dear reader, this is no exaggeration, the ROB is (is or are? grammer check) among the most dangerous forests in the world. The Rainforests of Amazon or Borneo pale in comparison to the mighty man-made Roads Of Bangalore.

"What an absurd comparison" Some of you might ask. To those of you who asked, I counter with this point: (those of you who didnt ask may skip it if you want)
Think of the name: Bangalore. Bang.. I guess you know what it means. Galore..means in plentiful amounts. Bang+Galore = Bangs in plentiful amounts. Not a very comforting name to boast of, is it?

And what creautres inhabit this god-forsaken place! Vehicles of all shapes, sizes and hues are waiting to make your life miserable once you step on ROB. Whatever kind of roads you travel on (tar road, mud road, "is that supposed to be a road??!!" road, no road) there seems no respite from the other vehicles.

The potbellied overaged and errant bus driver, the sly foulmouthed autodriver playing Kannada songs with full bass effect so you can hear nothing but bangs and thuds intersperced with an occasional grating voice, the crazy stressed out IT/BPO professional on the bike driving with suicidal(and worse, homicidal) abandon, I see them everyday, only with different faces.

Having asked Anjaneya to give me strength and courage for my heroic endeavor of trying to reach office in time, I set off on my rickety fifteen year old Kinetic Honda (the only thing kinetic about it is the name). I finally reach office after the ordeal which lasts close to an hour.

But Im safe and sound-thats all that matters. Now to rest for a good six hours before I start worrying about returning home again....