When was the last time you saw a zebra crossing in this city left for the pedestrian to use? I almost saw an “empty” one recently; it was like a divine sighting. I imagined the thunder and lightning a la Bollywood dramatic scene and just as I skipped along to cross the road while the wind gently brushed through my hair, a traffic cop’s shrill whistle blew and he waved to a driver to inch forward at the signal.
So I walked up to the traffic cop and asked, “Gaadi toh khadi thi barabar se, aapne ussey aage aane ko kyon bola?” He said with dead seriousness: “Mumbai mein kitni gaadiyan hai, thoda adjust karna padega baby.” Seriously? More cars than people? A correctly parked car is made to come three inches forward to make place for more such cars doing the same. In a city bursting at its seams with people, the last bastion designated for pedestrians is also being encroached upon, and for no real reason. I say last bastion because the zebra crossing is at least, in most cases, clearly demarcated for pedestrians. The cows haven’t quite worked on their traffic sense yet.
Footpaths have turned into residential options, vendors’ paradise and even parking spaces. If you find a footpath, there’s a good chance it’s gone before you react. I was once walking down an excruciatingly crowded stretch just off Senapati Bapat Marg in Lower Parel. The footpath was about 3-4 feet wide and if I could manoeuvre through dangling saris and toy vendors, I was lucky. But I insisted I would use the footpath, because for starters, there was the semblance of one. Yet halfway through parked bicycles of home delivery boys and a handcart whose owner was resting on it, I tripped and in the process bumped into the fruit vendor in front of me. I quickly said an embarrassed “sorry” to the peeved encroacher who instead screamed, “Footpath pe koi chalta hai kya?” Oh, the irony. Had I not been drenched with perspiration, I would’ve yelled right back.
So where then is a pedestrian supposed to walk? Between two cars? I would say the balancing act is crucial but the sidelines of the footpath is a good option. Walking in Mumbai is literally and figuratively a case of tightrope walking. As a pedestrian, I always felt cheated and complaining to the police seemed to only irk them further.
When I started taking my car out more regularly, I felt heroic. No more heat, no more feeling short-changed and definitely no more bumping. The car, for me as a pedestrian, was always king. However, the car, for me as a driver, was becoming a liability.
Some areas in Mumbai are lucky to have a full-fledged promenade and Marine Drive’s is exquisitely maintained for fitness freaks. Yet, as I drove past the wonderful stretch of joggers, I found more joggers overtaking the slower ones by running on the road just off the footpath. This, without a care, that cars were coming at 70 kmph. An 8-feet wide stretch, which is not crowded, is ditched for the edge of the road in a bid for competition! Worse still, the turn near Air India building towards Colaba has a well-tiled footpath that people seem to abandon out of habit — who walks on footpaths anyway? Eager walkers even walk on the Kemp’s Corner flyover during peak hours. And if you honk…oh God, if you honk… the pedestrian screams at you for inconveniencing him on a road that wasn’t meant for his nimble feet. He gathers a crowd and suddenly you’re the bad guy.
Don’t even try that argument that the vehicles’ signal was on and you actually had the legitimate right to go. It never works. Cars have horsepower; people have sympathy power. How does one possibly win the battle of the road in this city?
Don’t let the driver in you mar your pedestrian judgment and vice-versa. You’ll either want to stone a car or run over an errant walker. For a Mumbaikar to drive and walk in this city is like having a split personality, unfortunately both are on the road to perdition.