Cars-inoma

Time was when motor vehicles didn’t come preloaded with indicators, or at least, none that worked. When you learnt driving, your instructor, usually a parent, would explain how the right hand could be used to indicate both a right and left turn. For turning right, you stretched your car straight out and kept it there. The left indication was a little more intricate involving a continuous counter-clockwise rotation of the arm, although the more experienced drivers would probably use just the palm with the index finger pointing the movement. You learnt to ensure that your vehicle was in the correct lane well ahead of the turn so you wouldn’t have to run across the traffic flow at the crucial moment. You learnt that restraint in the usage of the horn was a sign of quality driving. As it happened, horns were tame toots back then, which you had to strain to hear. You learnt deft manipulation of the clutch and brake, particularly when you were on steep uphill gradients like Peddar Road or Pali Hill. There was no handbrake after all, and it was almost embarrassing to allow the vehicle to roll back, even when you got off from a standing start. This also meant that you learnt to keep some distance between you and the vehicle in front to accommodate such a mishap. You learnt to respect the rights of the pedestrians. A zebra crossing at a traffic signal was designed to enable pedestrians to go back and forth across the road, and on those occasions when you landed up straddling it while waiting for the lights to change, you had a real sense of guilt about the misdemeanour. You were aware of the limitations of your vehicle or of your driving abilities and had no hesitation in making way for better vehicles or drivers to overtake you. From the right. A flash in the rear view mirror told you that the vehicle behind you was ready and able to pull ahead and you simply shifted, soon as possible, to a space in the lane on your left to enable the overtake manoeuvre to happen without fuss. Which brings us to the rear view mirror. There were no wing mirrors back then so everything depended upon the one above the dashboard. As soon as you got into the driver’s seat, and even before you fired up the ignition, you checked whether the mirror was correctly aligned making quick adjustments to get it just so. Extra-cautious drivers would buy wider convex mirrors that would clip on to the OEM article and provided a much improved rear view. You knew that the traffic already on the street had right of way when you were pulling out of parking and would not start moving without taking a good look over your right shoulder and waiting for the gap. In any case, the right hand was clearly stuck out to indicate your intentions so even if you misjudged the gap, the other drivers knew you were entering.

With low traffic density (at least as compared to today) and much better compliance with rules of the road, major intersections could do with just a roundabout rather than a signal as low traffic density and sensible practice of the rules of the road favoured the less obstructive solution. Old Mumbaikars will remember when even junctions like Haji Ali, Worli Naka and the Bandra intersection of Linking Road and S. V. Road were thus regulated. Remember that Mumbai has always had a substantial of public transport on the road, whether it be buses, taxis or auto rickshaws and when I speak of the higher standards of compliance, it was as true of the drivers of these vehicles as it was of those driving (or being driven around) in their own.
And licences were not issued without a proper driving test being conducted. The RTO official would direct you to a stretch of road with relatively lighter traffic and put you through your paces. A figure-of-8 was routine. As was doing it in reverse. Parking in reverse into a relatively tight space was also quite commonplace. The official kept a sharp look out for your indicating turns, entry and exit from traffic and so on.

Things began to change in the late 1980s. India began to emerge from decades, even centuries, of abject poverty and incomes began a secular rise that, we all hope, will continue for decades to come. Discretionary spending began to grow and acquiring personal transport was clearly an important rite of passage for everyone as it set them free from the inconvenience and discomfort of public transport. ‘Hamara Bajaj’ was ‘Bulund Bharat ki bulund tasveer’ and later ‘Naye Bharat ki nayi tasveer’ and everyone wanted their own bulundi, their own nayapan.

Unfortunately however, the appetite to own a vehicle was entirely disconnected from any desire to learn how to drive it in a lawful, dignified manner. You fired it up and were ready to roar. You were the king of the road and could weave in out, cut left, right and centre and traffic signals were mere inconvenient obstructions to be run with impunity so long as ‘Mama’, the traffic constable, was not around. Never having driven in the earlier era and possibly having no previous background of driving in the family, there was no one around who knew better.

A malignancy was beginning to breeding in the hot furnace of personal prosperity and vehicular cornucopia. A lethally potent mix of stupidity and ignorance topped off with frothy insensitivity and arrogance.

Mumbai had become terminally ill with Cars-inoma.