Matutinal Mumbai Musings (Second Movement)

First Movement was obviously adagio, dealing as it did with the cabbie bottlenecks. I've by no means exhausted that topic, but perhaps I should move on to allegro.

Zipping through the city in the pre-dawn hours you get a taste of what travel on these roads could really be like. But usually isn't.

One peculiarity of Indian city roads has always struck visitors as strange. Every visitor I've driven around in the city has commented upon it, usually in bemusement or bewilderment. I don't mean the "cows on the road" comment. That is so old hat. And to give the city its due, one rarely does see cows on the road any more, at least in South Mumbai.

No, what drives them to a full stop (terrible pun intended) is what we do to our traffic lights after 10 p.m. We switch them off. Traffic lights in other cities around the world work 24/7 and they are largely respected accordingly. However, that would be too bland for us, so we switch them off.

However, that is too bald a statement. We have numerous ways of switching them off. Strange but true. Here are some that I've encountered in all my nocturnal ramblings.

The most popular is the Amber Admonition. This is when all the lights at a crossing blink amber, admonishing you to navigate the crossing at your own peril. A variant of this is the Rhythmic Red, where the light facing the junior or less-travelled road blinks red, while its counterpart on the main road blinks amber. A kind of caste system at work here.

The blandest one is the Blankly Black, a "Look Ma, No Lights" version where all the traffic lights are simply switched off, presenting a boring dead aspect to the crossing.

Then there is the Deadpan Deadlight. This is a favourite not just at night, but often encountered during the day too. All the traffic lights in every direction are red. Simply Red. That's it: no fancy blinking or synchronization or variations. I think it is a philosophical statement on the part of the authorities, in keeping with the karmic approach to life, happiness and George Bush. Whatever is to happen, will happen; therefore, there is no use in going anywhere in any direction. So stop.

Of course, it doesn't work that way. At first, everyone comes to a respectful halt at the red light. Then after all have been waiting for a minute or so, two drivers realize that something's wrong and that Deadpan Delight is in operation. It's always two drivers who come to this simultaneous realization, and the two drivers are always at right angles to each other. Both of them take off with great enthusiasm only to encounter the other at the focal point of the intersection. If they are young and have good reflexes, there is a screeching of brakes and the refreshing tinkle of broken glass. If not, there is a delightful pile-up.

Occasionally, the two drivers who recognize the Deadpan Delight are about four cars behind the lights. In such cases, there is a fanfare of horns and a curse of oaths until the leading cars are goaded into action. Whereupon Deadpan Delight proceeds as outlined in the previous paragraph. Never fails.

However, the greatest of them all, the mother of all traffic signal configurations is the Funky Chicken. It is a variant of the Deadpan Delight mixed in with the Rhythmic Red and Amber Admonition. It's probably taken them years of computerized simulations to get it right, but they've succeeded. It works like so.

It starts off with Rhythmic Red on the main road while Amber Admonition is on the side road. Just as the cars tentatively venture forward, it slams into Deadpan Delight and everyone grinds to a halt. Now, here comes the touch of genius. Before anybody can recognize Deadpan Delight, the signals change to green. All of them in all directions. Everybody lurches forward simultaneously. Instant gridlock. The lights go back to Rhythmic Red. This is poetry in stop-motion.

On my morning drive I encountered a number of Deadpan Delights. However, being older and wiser, my foot ventured nowhere near the brake. At that hour in the morning, waiting at a red light on a Mumbai road is like George Michael wandering into a public toilet. Just begging to be rear-ended.