Horns gives real “horns” to cars in today’s traffic. Honking is slowly developing into a “cultivated” science. It is definitely not an art, going by the way honking has developed over the years. When you go to buy a vehicle, the first question you ought to be asked is, “How good are you at honking?” –Honking is, basically, the vehicle shouting for space where is little or no space at all.
Consequently, the car drivers these days in Chennai (or in any other city) can be classified as the compulsive Honker, the madly compulsive Honker, the terribly compulsive Honker, and the non honker, who doesn’t exist at all. I am looking for a car manufacturer who will give me a car with the horn facility in my car’s rear. For, many a time, I am honked at by my unfriendly neighbour in the car behind, honking endlessly. As if his horn would create space in front of me, for me to go forward. But if I had a rear horn, I would honk back at the heartless honker.
Similarly, these days, many foreign and Indian cars do not have tail lights. They have powerful headlights at the back. That’s right. They have powerful headlights at the back of their cars, covered by a thin Red glass, so that it would classify as a Tail Light. So, if I am following any of these foreign cars, I would go “red” in the face many times – thanks to their powerful red tail lights.
Besides honking, there is a new genre of car drivers called “flashers” – for those of you who are only acquainted with the nude flashers at a cricket ground somewhere in England or Australia, these Indian
flashers are a new breed of car drivers and two wheeler riders spawning the present road conditions. They flash their headlights needlessly during their day, demonstrating their importance. The vehicles ahead, are supposed to take note of these “flashers” and give way obediently.
But my favourite fantasy is this: I am at a traffic signal, and a vrooming bike over takes me and several other cars, the rider mocking at us by “weaving” through the traffic and endangering N number of
people’s lives. After the bike has disappeared round the corner, there is a loud crashing sound. And in a few minutes, I pass the scene : The bike rider, who, so recklessly endangered so many people’s lives, who so thoughtlessly created panic in pedestrians, and who so rashly proved a point with his bike, is, thoughtfully lying down in a huge heap of dung. In his lightening speed, he had not seen the dung heap.
Finally, the reckless rascal has reached the destination where he belongs. In a dung heap.*
(* After losing my elder brother in a bike accident who merely happened to ride his moped around the same time two unknown rascals raced with each other and tripped my brother, I feel a dung heap is
where these kind of reckless rascals belong).