Traafic Jaam

Photo courtesy: Cityjournal.in

A few of you know why I have not been blogging as much. In the soap opera that is my life, this is but another blip. Some of you also know we had visited India and have only recently returned. This year's visit did not involve rest and relaxation. As an aside, it usually doesn't; but this year was particularly difficult. In any case, we went to Bombay and then to Kerala; three days later, my mother-in-law was hospitalised and we spent our time going to and from the hospital from our respective houses. 

We discovered that if we got out of the hospital (or our homes) at a certain time, say, anytime between mid-morning and midnight, then it made no sense to take an auto rickshaw so we could get home or to the hospital quickly. As far as eye could see, vehicles would be packed together bumper to bumper. The first time it happened, Sadu was glad he was walking. The next day, on my way back, I didn't even bother looking for a rickshaw. It was faster to walk.

As always, when I need to keep the blog going, I turn to my personal caped crusader (well, not really, but I'm allowed some poetic license) to fill the lacunae. So, here, is another of Sadu's laments. 

When I was going to Chembukkav

I was going to Chembukkav-uh

One afternoon in mid-August.

That's when the monsoon ends in Keral-uh.

And so, of course, the rains began in earnest.

I made my way through flooded paths

Raincoats and umbrellas all in a huddle

It was raining cats and dogs.

I almost stepped into a poodle...

When came I to Patturaickal junction

What did I see in front of me?

To the limit of my vision the streets were filled

With cars, buses, rickshaws and the occasional lorry.

And as they gridlocked stayed

From them arose a cacophony

Of horns and shouts and curses

A staggered Schoenbergian symphony.

I asked a watching police constable

Who stood  propping up a fence

"Saar, what ails these vehiculared people?"

He winced and spoke with rare eloquence.

"Traafic jaam", he said succinctly

And viciously at a passing beetle spat

"Cars! Too many rich people, that is all, simbly."

His sympathies, definitely lay with the proletariat.

"But 'til where," I asked?

The guardian gazed deep into  my cerebellum

"Town, district, and far beyond," he said

Maybe even to Thiruvananthapuram.

And truly at TV-Puram, the CM

Asked his minions if it was true

That the traffic would not budge at all

"No, not even from Kottayam to Trichur."

"And it is much worse," they cried

"Do you realise, Saar,

"We left for Delhi yesterday

Yet we are still stuck in the car."

"What?" cried the CM in disarray

I thought we were already at the centre

"Saar, you fell asleep on the way

Lulled by melodious party propagander."

"Now the opposition will use this against us

And ask questions in the assembly."

"Not to worry, Saar," they smiled; "Their bus

Will not make it beyond Sultan Bathery¹.

"Even if they do, they will be stuck.

We guarantee they will not reach Thodupuzha²

Reduced to singing in their ancient truck

Namuddakar Russiakkar Stalin namudde netav*

But the opposition did no such thing

They sat and weighed the situation

And watched as the local populace

Showered the ruling party with vituperation.

As I crisscrossed fro and to Chembukkav-uh

I saw in the midst of my perambulation

Stationary vehicles I had grown familiar with

Shaju-mon, Gracy-mol, Kerala State Road Transport Corporation.

The traffic jam grew, ah woe betide

And passengers grew dessicated 

Their starving lips were gaping wide

Their tummies shrank abbreviated.

I saw this scene almost every day

When I visited my wife-house

(This is what the male Malayalees say

When they refer to the residence of the spouse.)

Then finally the opposition

Seized on opportunity's knock

Announced a complete statewide hartaal

No vehicle to go forward, no person to walk.

The news of this announcement

Came as manna to every fellah

And liquor stores on the day before

The hartaal, raked in the moolah.

Pedestrians flocked from far and wide

To buy their spot of liquor

To spend the anointed hartaal day

In a happy drunken stupor.

The motorists on the other hand

Spent hartaal day reversing

They finally got out of their traffic jam

And into their garages cursing.

The opposition's hartaal was a great success

The common man praised their sagacity

And promised at the next election

To vote them into a ruling capacity.

Somewhere I am told, beside the road

That connects Bekal to Thiruvanathapuram

There exists a new shrine that is the abode

Of the God of the Traafic jaam.

Maintained by the current opposition

(Not yet become the ruling party)

For while it is not their disposition

God fearing atheists such as they be,

They scorn religious superstition

Yet, they do believe in destiny.

©Sadanand Warrier 2012

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* Old CPI slogan. Quite literally, the Russians are our people, Stalin is our leader.

1. Sultan Bathery is in North Kerala, far from Thiruvananthapuram, the capital. It is actually a mispronunciation of the word 'battery'. Tipu Sultan used an unused Jain temple to place his gun battery here.

2. Thodupuhza is in central Kerala, and a bastion of the Congress party, should the opposition have had the temerity to reach it.

With humble apologies to John J Keats, Theodore S Geissel, and Kerala politics.