For most of my college days, my only mode of transportation was a scooter, a Bajaj Chetak, which was quite popular among the middle class up until the 1990s. In contrast to my father’s Lambretta 150, or Lamby 150 as it was later known, which I occasionally rode, it was lighter in weight, quieter, fuel-efficient and easy to manoeuvre. I did everything on it: rode to friends’ homes, went on movie trips, picnics, even on shopping trips. But then around 2000, not long after I had finished my university studies, a change took place and I landed my first job which took me to a hill station. This rendered my scooter useless and eventually led me to part from it. As much as I enjoyed riding it, I found out, to my delight, that I enjoyed the liberty of travelling without it more.
Time passed, and in a short few years, walking became my primary mode of transportation. It was then I decided that I’d stick to my habit and never own any vehicle again. Then, a few years later I changed my job and went abroad, only to return home to the family nest a few years later. All this time I kept my habit going and continued to commute by foot. But things took a different turn when we moved from the city to a small suburb, where there were no cycle-rickshaws or autorickshaws, bus services were almost non-existent, and taxis, well, too expensive.
Suddenly, even mundane tasks such as shopping for groceries, posting a letter and visiting the hairdresser became ordeals with my only mode of transportation being by foot. Things got worse when my mom, who was in her mid-60s at the time, fell down and broke her ankle. She had to be rushed to the hospital for treatment, which involved multiple trips for follow-up over a period of months.
Now, the car
My dad offered me his car for the purpose, which I gladly availed myself of. It saved me time and energy, but it also forced me to forgo some of my independence. I had to drive with great caution, concentrate on the speed, keep an eye out for traffic lights and no-parking zones, and follow one-way signs with utmost precision. I also experienced a near-miss with a speeding bike. And I sat stuck in massive down-town traffic jams to and from the hospital on innumerable occasions.
The doctor who repaired my mom’s shattered ankle with a rod and screws cautioned me that her bones were like chalk. He warned me that unless she lost weight and followed the set restrictions, her ankle would never fully recover. He also gave a piece of advice that has stuck with me ever since: “Make sure your mother doesn’t fall again.”
Today, roughly a year and a half later, my mom has recovered a great deal, but I still often wonder if things would have panned out differently if she had taken care of herself and restricted the rate of bone loss by walking regularly all those years. I worry what the future holds for her and for everyone else whose lives are too dependent on the car.
Meanwhile, in the suburb where we now live, the facilities have hardly improved and daily commuting continues to be a challenge with little attention paid to public transportation facilities. It troubles me to see that, but it troubles me even more to see people regularly relying on their personal vehicles even to travel short distances.
The only thing that’s reassuring is that I enjoy using my feet as much as ever, and that I haven’t been stuck in traffic for a long time.
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