One of my favourite
experiences while traveling in more developed nations is the button
you can press whenever pedestrians want to cross the road.
I love those buttons affixed
to poles at every crossing. They makes a pedestrian feel like she's
something too. Something resembling a human citizen rather than a
scurrying insect trying to get out of the way of unseeing,
unstopabble metal beasts. It makes you feel like your life is a
little bit more valuable than ten seconds in the lives of people who
happen to be in cars. It reminds you that you are equally human and
the fact that you're using your own two feet to get around makes you
more deserving of consideration, not less.
This thing about bicycles
and sidewalks and the constant dismissal of pedestrians as a
component of street traffic – it's basically a class problem in
India. There are hierarchies in developed nations too, but the class
groups aren't watertight compartments. Those who drive cars also ride
bicycles and also take long walks. Those who walk to work may well
possess cars, choosing to drive only on weekends. People may drive to
work but prefer to walk to restaurants or clubs in the evening.
In India, class is a visible
phenomenon. Usually, the pedestrian is at the bottom of the heap.
She, or he, does not own any motoring assets. And so, what right have
they to expect that they can actually cross the road safely? And if
they do cross, they must do so at their risk, and only after a
patient wait at the traffic lights. They certainly don't get to
control how long they must wait, or how much further they have to
walk before they can find a proper zebra crossing and a traffic
light?
Those who ride bicycles
often cannot afford motorcycles or scooters or cars. Cyclists are
mainly men running errands, not doing it for pleasure or exercise.
Errand boys, tradesmen, freelance professionals may be carting
packages as heavy as their own body weight. They could also be young
students from middle class families but increasingly, in bigger
cities, students take buses, trains, or rickshaws.
The adult middle class
cyclist is an anomaly in India (I know of only six such among several
hundred friends and acquaintances). I also remember the time when one
of them was barred from entering a complex where discussions and
arts' events are hosted. He was riding a bicycle and clearly didn't
fit the security guards' image of someone who deserves to access art
or join interesting conversations about society. It wasn't until he
began to argue in English that class privilege was re-established and
the guards relented.
Nowadays, some states are
talking of barring cyclists and cycle rickshaws from major roads.
There is not much noise about this, so I am guessing that most middle
class people would prefer it that way. Or would they?
There must be a knot of
worry in upper class hearts about bad times. What happens if they
cannot afford chauffeurs to ferry kids to school and drive retired
parents to hospitals? Will they have to find worse ways of making
more money to pay for cars and fuel and chauffeurs, and houses with
more parking space? What if all investments backfire? Will the kids
die, trying to cross a road?
Surely, even the elite must
prefer the idea of a country where such questions weren't necessary.
First published here: https://www.thehindu.com/todays-paper/tp-national/tp-mumbai/a-button-jab-worth-of-equality/article24275657.ece
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