Pune. That’s where my heart lies. Where the story starts. Where the dreams born and die.
I saw these words on a sticky note glued to a dusty Vespa in a little parking lot on my first day in Pune (Southwestern India). I didn’t know then but I know now it was a perfect description for the importance of two wheelers in the city. Roaring, rumbling, crashing, stirring and electrifying the streets, diving through dust, maneuvering twists and turns.. First time you see that unbelievable chaos, you want to close your eyes in scary disbelief and never open again.
The wonder floods you very soon, though.
I won't talk about driving rules in India (kya hai?) because the roads have their own non-written laws. Most of my friends keep cursing drivers on the road who rarely respect the signal lights, one-way streets, speed limits… but I can’t stop admiring. Sounds like from suicider's diary, I know, but that madness of moving transformers (which would give a heavy headache to western driver in a minute) makes Indians look so flexible and dexterous. Especially, when they survive on two rules only: overtake and keep honking. If something is on your way (another car, pani puri wala or an elephant in our case, pictured below), just go left or right, speed up and 'no problem'.
Writing on this unstoppable river of traffic immediately reminds me of a funny story (which wasn’t that funny the time it happened) when I still was a fresh cucumber in Pune and was trying to cross a two way road in Model Colony.
I was standing near the road like a lost puppy for nearly half an hour. There were no gaps, no breaks, no pauses between the moving vehicles. I was ashamed but I couldn’t find enough bravery and skills to go forward and start the dancing = crossing the road. I call it dancing when locals masterfully navigate through the road letting all the moving vehicles pass them by without a scratch...It's quite astonishing to watch till you learn yourself and don't notice anymore.
So how I solved my road crossing problem that day?
Well, with time running out I felt so abandoned, downhearted and hopeless that eventually I decided to stop a rickshaw and pay him to carry me to the other side of the road. Relief was immeasurable. I’m smiling even now while writing this. Smiling exactly same way as the rickshaw driver who helped me that day. Actually no, he was giggling like crazy.
You know after so much time in Pune I’m still amazed to see how well the two-wheelers fit here. Ladies drive it wearing saris, families use one bike to travel whole city, students share bikes to go to university…
Sitting in silent street cafe in London, I can't believe how badly I miss that huge buzzing beehive of Indian traffic. That circulation which never stops, never sleeps, always shifts.That movement where life happens.
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