On Pedestrianism and Kerala

Due to the mysterious absence of my fellow blog-mate and my not-so-mysterious lethargy...this blog has been dumped by the roadside for a while. I'm therefore attempting to redeem it, with an article I wrote ages ago, which is, hopefully, still relevant today. Here goes...and please let me know if the situation has changed, for the better or the worse. :)

Chennai, it is said, has given the world two famous dance-forms. One of them is Bharatanatyam, the other Pedestrianism. And Bharathanatyam is by far the more esoteric of the two. Any thing, man or beast that spends more than half an hour on Chennai’s roads finds itself performing a most complex tap dance that would put the world’s best flamenco artists to shame. Undecided cyclists, people in a hurry, autorickshaws on the prey, well-aimed projectiles of spit and the vagaries of the road itself all form part of a list of obstacles that meet a normal living being who erred in one thing before setting out – trusting its own two… or four legs, as the case may be. For all that, however, just as a hunter thrills in the excitement of the chase, just as a warrior is exhilarated by blood-lust, so does the average chennaiite love to “walk.”

Till he visits small, unassuming, quiet, green, deadly Kerala. Every hunter, every warrior and every Pedestrian (yes, it is spelt with a capital P) has his limit. For the Pedestrian it is Kerala. It is in Kerala that the fine line between an art-form and a suicide attempt is crossed. It is here that the Pedestrian meets, or rather, comes in contact with his match. Uncontrolled, they roam the streets at will tearing limbs and hearts asunder without the slightest respect for the laws that form the bulwark of a society. These monsters that do not even merit a mention in the tourist guides under the heading “Dangerous Creatures and Life Hazards” are but the ubiquitous Buses of Kerala. Yes, this too shall be spelt with a capital B. One accords his opponents the merit they deserve.

They bear down upon you without a toot and by the time you’ve recovered sufficiently enough to realize that you are Providence’s favourite child, the next one is upon you. Providence is a mighty fickle parent. When posed this problem, one Pedestrian survivor remarked pithily, “You learn to live with it.” And so one learns to live life on the edge, with the Devil on the one hand and the Deep Sea on the other – no kidding – Kerala’s got a long coast. Worse off are the poor folks who still cling on to the interiors… getting caught between the Devil and a barbed wire fence isn’t exactly my idea of a peaceful evening stroll.

That however, is only till you get into the Bus…if you can survive that long. Once in, the ride of your life awaits you. Never was a roller-coaster ride obtained cheaper. Never was the transition from victim to murder-accomplice so smooth. Small wonder then, that almost all the famous martial art forms originated here – martial arts are mostly about reflexes and balance…right? With a National Highway the width of my corridor with plants butting in on either side, it isn’t surprising that the Bus assumes right of way…on a single lane road.

“What about Lane Discipline?” the cry goes around ¬– one does not get a meaningful phrase by putting together two non-existent ones.

“Give us a plus-point!” begs the adamant cry – you get to see Kerala as you would never have seen otherwise.

To sum up - if questioned about it, one could say, “Life in Kerala is like Life in slow-motion - It’s beautiful. Death however, travels pretty fast.”