There is a moment in Delhi where, for a few seconds, I feel utterly
connected to the great throbbing mass that is India. I am talking, of course,
about crossing the street.
In most of Delhi, you can cross the street alone. But then there are the city’s most crowded spots, such as the downtown commercial district Connaught Place, where cars, motorcycles, rickshaws, buses and pedestrians battle for such a limited amount of road real estate, all without a traffic light, that you simply can’t cross the street alone.
So here’s how it works: One person stands at a street corner and waits. Another person joins him. Then another. Then maybe a couple. We all just stand silently side by side until there is a critical mass. Someone will take the first step, usually holding out one hand to signal to cars to stop. What can that one hand do against a car? Yet everyone moves at once, joining this fearless leader. As a group, we have protection against that unwieldy conglomerate of motorized vehicles. As a group, we command their respect, insist they not only notice us, but make way for the era of the pedestrians—we’re here, we’re crossing the street, and we ain’t going back! Nobody puts us on a street corner!
Then we reach the other side and in an instant, everyone scatters, possibly never to see each other again. I always take a moment and lament that the powerful lobby I was so briefly a part of, which acted with one mind and without words to achieve a goal, is so quick to dissolve, so willing to let go of the grand connection that saw us safely across the street.
In most of Delhi, you can cross the street alone. But then there are the city’s most crowded spots, such as the downtown commercial district Connaught Place, where cars, motorcycles, rickshaws, buses and pedestrians battle for such a limited amount of road real estate, all without a traffic light, that you simply can’t cross the street alone.
So here’s how it works: One person stands at a street corner and waits. Another person joins him. Then another. Then maybe a couple. We all just stand silently side by side until there is a critical mass. Someone will take the first step, usually holding out one hand to signal to cars to stop. What can that one hand do against a car? Yet everyone moves at once, joining this fearless leader. As a group, we have protection against that unwieldy conglomerate of motorized vehicles. As a group, we command their respect, insist they not only notice us, but make way for the era of the pedestrians—we’re here, we’re crossing the street, and we ain’t going back! Nobody puts us on a street corner!
Then we reach the other side and in an instant, everyone scatters, possibly never to see each other again. I always take a moment and lament that the powerful lobby I was so briefly a part of, which acted with one mind and without words to achieve a goal, is so quick to dissolve, so willing to let go of the grand connection that saw us safely across the street.
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