Sunday, April 26, 2009

Trafficking in Pune

Ask anyone what he despises most about Pune and the answer would be "Traffic"**.Without intending to sound vainglorious, I am proud of the fact that I have lived in quite a few cities in India. Which brings me to the most common vexing question. Is my dad an armyman? Unfortunately, he isn't. Fortunately, he doesn't work for a bank either. For that matter, none of my parents do.

Getting back to the point, Pune probably has a traffic which is worse than any other city. Personally, the list of things that I dislike (euphemism for hate) about Pune could become endless. However, traffic would definitely qualify for a podium finish. And for a change, roads are not the real problem. In defence of the Pune-ites, it can be said that the roads are definitely narrow in some parts of the town. There are speed breakers which would be best described as blink-and-you-miss and some road dividers that are barely visible. The entire logic of invisible-traffic-controllers seems to be founded on the "shock and awe" doctrine.

Residents of Pune belong to a peaceful race that lives in love and harmony. What gets their adrenaline pumping is the idea of driving on their own roads. For any proud Puneite, any Pune road is like his own backyard. She has her own set of traffic rules and abides by them religiously. When caught in a traffic jam, she is highly likely to mistake the accelerator for the brake and thereby ram her vehicle against the rear of another parked in front of her. This sets off a trigger reaction which actually helps clear the traffic. The casualties are the smaller two wheelers which mostly belong to the student community. Who cares about them anyway?
The two wheelers, on the other hand are no less enterprising. In Pune, you are considered cool if you can squeeze your bike in the space between 2 cars moving parallel on what ideally should have been a one-car-at-a-time road. Narrower the gap, higher is your coolness quotient.The narrowest of gaps have led some bikers to the OTs. Even as the doctors are amputating their legs, they would insist that

1. They still ride better than 90% of the Pune-ites (The scary thing is that they are RIGHT!)
2. There was only one car in front of them

Statistically incorrect it may be, but the fact is that 75% Pune-ites are better than average drivers . To further spice up things, Pune has recently been hit by a gang of girls who love to call themselves the biker-gang, as quoted by Pune Mirror. No, I am not making this up! What do they do? Flout the rules, flaunt your coolness!

The traffic lights in Pune also work according to their own whims and fancies. To the credit of the Puneite, she doesn't care two hoots about the traffic signal. For her, it’s always blaring green. She doesn’t know any
Massa, any Schumacher or lately, any Vettel. For that matter, she would also love to ignore the local mamu (a traffic constable for the uninitiated). Which is where the lady luck betrays her.

The way the traffic constable operates in Pune is no less than the way a secret unit carries out some covert operations on the battlefield. He would be conspicuously missing from the traffic outposts he is supposed to be manning. Be forwarned. He would be lurking around in some corner waiting for you to commit an offence. And if you happen to be sporting a number plate that belongs to some other Indian state, you are doomed.

Mamu: Do you have an NOC (No Objection Certificate)?
She (the qunitessential Tam Brahm driving a santro with a TN number plate): Yes, here it is.
Mamu: License? PUC (Pollution Under Control? Vehicle Papers?
She: Yes, here they are!
Mamu: Voter ID card? Ration card? Employee ID? Medical Insurance Card? Passport? Marriage Certificate?
She: Scavenges through her Luis Vuitton and manages to fish out everything.
(Failure to produce even one single document calls for a heavy penalty as per Pune Traffic norms)
Mamu (exasperated) starts ranting in Marathi: … kutthes?... kartos? ….kutthes-kartos combined?

She:Abuses him in the filthiest of Tamil possible

Mamu(anger oozing out from evey pore of his face):… kutthes?... kartos? ….kutthes-kartos combined?

She: I am sorry. I don’t understand Marathi.
Mamu (with a victorious smile): Techincally speaking you have to shell out some 2000 bucks but we can settle it for 500.
The woman goes on to feign bankruptcy and the deal is finally settled at 300 bucks. The mamu then proceeds to give her a receipt printed on a paper which is the pinkiest pink imaginable. She is free to scoot away breaking all speed barriers before the next mamu intercepts her.

**Information Source: Pg 24 of Pune Mirror. The same page that carries "ask the sexpert" column. Period.
PS: For those who were tempted by the title of the post into reading this,my apologies :)
PPS: The stress on one particular gender is not at all coincidental. It has been done based on prior experience and some relevant research. However, it is open to argument.

Tuesday, April 14, 2009

Vasota - Done and Dusted!

This is what the victory board perched atop Vasota proudly proclaims. Before commenting on the importance of the entire comment, let me translate it into english for the convenience of people who fumble with Hindi. "Not only is it very difficult to get to the top of the Vasota peak, it is nearly impossible. Only the toughest of the characters have managed to reach here and read this board (Shivaji included)".

Trekking in the summers won't make it to the list of the "100 most crazy ideas of the last decade" but still would finish pretty close.

For all those who are contemplating a trek to Vasota in the near future, the following digest should serve you handy.
Wake up very early in the morning - as soon as your flatmate wakes you up. If your flatmate oversleeps, then the two of you would do well to not interact for the next few days. If you are living alone, which is more because nobody wants to share an accomodation with you, forget about being a part of any such trekking expeditions. Try as much as you can, people will still find ways to somehow unintentionally forget you on the D day. The entire trek is fraught with dangers and challenges.

Challenge 1
-Marathi: It's always a safe practice to have someone in the group who understands and converses well in the local dialect - Marathi. The peculiar thing about Maharashtra is the similarity between the n
ames of places. Just to ensure that you are going to the right place, always remember to suffix the name of the place you intend to go to with the names of a few famous landmarks in and around that place. In case of Vasota, you should phrase your question somewhat like this "Which bus goes to Bamnoli? Base camp to Vasota? Vasota - trek. Vasota - tiger, squirrel, wild dogs etc etc". And finally, "Vasota - Shivaji!!". If this doesn't work, be sure that no such place exists on the map.
The Next Challenge: Finding the bus that can take you to the village of Bamnoli from Satara. By the time you reach Satara, you would have realised that Marathi is not afterall the dialect of the masses. It can be described as a mix between Cherokee, Edo, Faroese,Mari and the likes. All this means that you can now only converse in sign language.
Bus drivers, plying on these rural routes are gifted with a practical sense of humour. They will always drop you off at a strategic point which is purportedly 1
0 minutes away from the actual destination. However, an hour later, you are still walking and have lost half the group to heat stroke. The only way to avoid such a catastrophe is to take a private vehicle.
However, be forewarned. For the person sitting next to the driver will realise pretty soon that the gear always comes perilously close to the crotch each time the driver changes gears. So, take suitable p
recautions (fans of cricket will better appreciate).
Having succesfully negotiated th
e gears, you get down at Bamnoli and take a launch from Bamnoli to the base camp of Met Indavli - the gateway to Vasota.
Opportunity to travel by a launch is something that hardly any other trek affords. What took us totally
by surprise was the presence of a watch tower along the reservoir coast. The intention is to help visitors spot the wild animals that come to the reservoir to quench their thirst. My analysis (based on experience) says that the closest that you can come to a wild animal would be a buffalo.

The First Frontier - Met Indavli:
To the credit of the forest office, it must be said that the tents erected at Met Indavli are really huge and for the most part-comfortable. These mega tents can provide sh
elter to around 20 people at one go. Huge signboards alert you to the presence of Royal Bengal Tigers (No, I am not making this up!), leopards, jackals, bears and some other wild species. However, even spotting spotting a giant (just for nomenclature) squirrel is a luxury. I am somehow tempted to believe that all this is a part of some cheap publicity gimmick.
The Final Frontier:-Vasota: For the ones who are physically fit and fighting, the climb should take close to 1 hour.For those who are not, the climb takes another half an hour. To our credit, we completed the trek in a little over 2 hours. At the top there is a temple dedicated to Lord Shivaji. Then there are a few rocks here and there which once belonged to Shivaji. Ofcourse, there is an orange flag which was once held aloft by Shivaji. Technically speaking, the remnants of what were once the great Maratha forts do not really deserve to be called the ruins.They are the nothings. Everything is left to your imagination. Just when you marvel at the sight of a wall which definitely must have been Shivaji's fort, you are told that the wall had been erected only a few years back by the forest department. Hopes dashed, it's time for the been-there-done-that photo sessions. This provides you the opportunity to pose with the flag in all kinds of obscene poses, including the flag dance which is a modified version of the pole dance.
The descent is a cakewalk compared to the
ascent. Steaming hot food awaits you at the base camp. For those who are religiously non -veg, nothing can get more vegetarian than this. Be prepared to swallow your egos and behave as if the food tastes like manna from heaven, for, that would form the sum and substance of the dinner conversation of the vegetarians.
Banish all grand plans of star gazing, sitting out under the stars in the open making pseudo intellectual
conversations, relating ghost storie
s and indulging in other kind of social activities You would be too dog tired at the end of it to do anything but hit the sheets .. err.. the dirty mattresses. Wake up very early next morning to watch the awe inspiring sunrise. [Pic Courtesy: Yours truly :)]