Observations from traffic in India

2007.08.18 — Culture | Travel | by Frank Stobie

Having traveled to India on four separate occasions I’ve developed a love-hate type relation with the place. My first trip, in September—October of 2005 for approximately four weeks was to deliver training to the staff in Bangalore who would be performing billing exception work for a natural gas utility in Ohio. This is a gentle way of saying we were outsourcing work done in the states to Bangalore.

My only exposure to things of India were restaurants I’ve eaten in back in the states and pictures and articles in National Geographic. Having those experiences as my frame of reference, I was in for a shock.

The plane arrived around 2 AM and I was expecting a typical deserted airport as you’d experience in the US. The terminal was teaming with activity. Drivers displaying names of people arriving to Bangalore and just regular folks waiting for friends and relatives on arriving flights.

Given the time and length of flights from Europe to India, many flight arrive from hubs in the early morning hours in India. I traveled from Dallas, leaving around 3:30 PM arriving in Frankfort around 8:30 AM the next day. The flight was approximately nine hours long. The lay over lasted three hours in Frankfort. The flight from Frankfort to Bangalore was approximately the same length of time, nine hours. I just lost one day sitting on a plane traveling half way around the world.

My only other international travels were to Hamburg Germany on business, to Paris for holiday and to several places in Mexico for scuba diving. My expectations were that India would be closer to Mexico than either the two European cities I’ve visited. I was right, but I wasn’t prepared for difference in the two countries.

Bangalore stunned my senses. The place was more different than I ever imagined. The smell, the noise, the congestion of traffic were all so new and different. The horn honking in traffic was like no other I’ve experienced. The honking was constant.

We would go down the street in mass with the other vehicles. With horns honking, it became apparent that there was some sort of communication going on between the vehicles. It all sounded like noise to me.

Drivers use the horn to tell other drivers where they are, and to watch out for their pending maneuver or to warn other drivers not to get any closer. At first, traffic appeared chaotic at best. But I began to notice that there is a hierarchy on the roads. Pedal bikes have no respect. Motor bikes have slightly more importance than the pedal bikes, and not as much clout as the 3-wheeled rickshaws used as taxis and to move goods. Most vehicles steered clear of the ox driven carts. Cows are sacred, and I couldn’t imagine what would happen if an ox got hit in an accident.

Our driver would turn out in traffic with little regard for bikes or rickshaws because he had a car which was bigger and he could go and do as he pleased. The only vehicles he would yield to would be a bigger truck or bus. I think it was a size and strength issue.

I could literally reach out and touch people in the vehicles stopped next to us. We were that close. Once the car moves, it seems everybody jockeys for a better position and quick get away when the light changes green.

The motor bikes had the advantage when traffic was stopped. The drivers would squeeze their way to the front of the line in space barely wide enough for a person to walk. The result was that at most stop lights the motor bikes would occupy the first spots and would be first in line.

In Bangalore, when stopped at a red light there is a timer that alerts the stopped traffic as to how much time is left till the light turns green. I thought this was an odd approach to alert stopped traffic to how much time was left to the green light. But I didn’t see one instance of anybody running a red light.

Given the number and volume of vehicles, I only saw the results of one accident. I didn’t actual see it happen, but I did see the results. An overturned rickshaw and several folks appeared shaken. That was the only incident I saw involving a collision in the four weeks on my first visit. I was amazed that I didn’t see more.

The Indian employees I trained were very intelligent and respectful and highly motivated. They learned the job quickly and accurately, even if their approach to the material was sometimes unorthodox. I realized that a lot of India is like its traffic: crowded, noisy, chaotic, competitive, a little messy, and some folks are being left behind. But there's a logic to it—and great potential.

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