day of reckoning
It was 6 pm on Monday 24, 2007 and MG Road was a hollow shell of itself. Inspired by the thought of watching the twenty20 finals between India and Pakistan I rushed to the illegal auto stand on Kamaraj road and enquired of the worthy men thereof if they would take me home speedily.
To which they replied equally courteously that they would but for an exotic and marvellous fee! I withdrew in indignation from the group of shameless opportunists and tried my luck for about half an hour; by which time the traffic had dwindled to almost a trickle and autos were getting progressively harder to spot.
Soon the place started filling up with would-be passengers waiting for wouldn’t be autos. Before the situation got truly alarming, left for the pre-paid auto stand on MG Road (the last bastion of relief for stranded passengers). To my dismay saw a line that was at least 35 people strong! Worse, now the roads were virtually deserted; not even a second-hand bike in sight. It was almost frightening to gaze upon the scene- like Armageddon but with the sun still shining.
The cop on duty at the counter was grinning helplessly, enjoying as were all of us to some extent, the unprecedented bizarreness of the situation. Finally inspiration struck and he started waving down any auto that appeared even if it was already occupied. He then shouted out the destination of the auto to the crowd and whosoever happened to be going that way broke the line (relief writ large on their faces).
After what seemed an age my turn came and got in with a pretty girl in a red sari. A bewildered looking old man in a skull cap made space for us. The auto driver was none too pleased to be stopped thus by the police and kept muttering into his phone asking someone for the scores, which he then announced to all and sundry waiting at every signal. Red sari and i giggled at his commentary and the old man looked even more bewildered.
Out in the roads the atmosphere was fully charged. Bus stands were bursting at the seams and everyone was in an extra hurry to get home. The singular nature of the situation rendered everyone on the streets brothers-in-arms. Unity in chaos! We dropped the old man off at Cantonment, collected red sari’s son from a creche (who pinched my arm, incidentally) and finally got home in time to see the rest of the match.
As it turned out it was well worth the chaos...
Congratulations India! (Kim Sharma must be weeping in her boudoir...)