I set out, my feet snug in a pair of high-end sneakers. Inspired by their tagline, I was geared to Just Do it. My family looked on disapprovingly, unable to do much since they knew only too well that words would not thwart my determination.
It was only last week that I had come back from a refreshing sojourn in Europe. While there, I had done what most of us do when we are in that part of the world — walked, on an average, eight to 10 km daily, and never tired of singing paeans to the roads and to the people who walked almost everywhere, age no bar.
Back home, and not one to easily put down my motherland without sufficient argument even at the cost of pretentious patriotism, I made an important decision. To walk as much as I could, on my regular errands at least.
So this was the reason I set out, under the disapproving looks of family. Incidentally, it is family more often than anyone else that fervently hopes you learn life’s lessons through hard knocks, while they occupy ringside seats. Then, the prerogative to claim, “we told you so’, is purely theirs.
I set out, as I did in Prague, smiling and nodding greetings to everyone. The only response that came my way was from an autorickshaw driver waiting for a potential passenger. When he realised my intention was to smile and merely walk past, he sneered and mumbled something incomprehensible. I pretended not to hear and gained pace.
I walked up the small incline that led up from the gated community where I lived to the main highway. I turned into the service road that laced the highway. I had left behind my earphones — did not want music in my ears when I could rather take in the lovely sounds of the city.
Suddenly an autorickshaw brushed past me, so close to my body. When I was back in my skin, I turned and glared menacingly at the disappearing vehicle. How dare he come at me from the wrong direction!
Determined not to let a stray incident like this unnerve me, I turned and came directly in the path of a flash of welding flame. “Madam! watch your step! Where are you lost?” I stared open-mouthed at the face that spoke. The young boy continued to weld.
The shock at having been so close to setting my Lycra-lined legs on fire transformed my breathing into wheezing.
The service road was fenced in by garages offering services of all kinds. Maybe that’s why this was a ‘service’ road. Self-taught mechanics sat behind soot-smeared faces under makeshift sheds. I picked my way through airless tubes and tyres, and pressed myself against the wall to allow a huge truck to position itself strategically for a change of tyre. It was getting difficult to smile. Yet, I egged myself on. Once I get across this stretch, it will be fine. It was only four in the afternoon. I had a lot of time on my feet. To make the rest of the walk pleasant and safe, I decided to stay alert. So, I kept my eyes glued ahead of me. I skidded, but thankfully did not fall. Fresh dog poop is stubborn. I rubbed my foot against a rock that lay by the side of the road. The shoe almost came off, the stuff did not. The smile had disappeared. A scowl replaced it.
With the smell of poop filling my nose and the rest of the head, I walked on. I placed one foot in front of the other hesitatingly. I struggled to align my vision. It was difficult getting accustomed to training the left eye on the road ahead and the right on the ground below.
I made it uneventfully to the junction where six roads crossed. I waited for the signal to turn green. When it did not, I realised there was no provision for a pedestrian signal or crossing. My eyes darted left and right to catch the opportune moment when the signal would turn red for oncoming vehicular traffic, and I could dash across to the other side.
The signal turned red. I was poised to step forward when I realised the traffic on my left was still streaming in. The signal at their end was green, giving them the right of way. A couple of men who had waited alongside me were already crossing, their hand signalling the vehicles to stop and let them pass. One of the men shouted out an expletive at an unsympathetic driver.
Beep! Beep! I swirled around and stood face to face with a scooterist who was squeezing his way past my behind. “What are you doing standing in the middle of the road?” he yelled as he revved up.
Tears stung my eyes. How was I to know that the bus in front of me would spew a burst of blackness right in my face? I scampered back along the garages. I cared neither for the poop, nor the soot, nor the stares.
I went to bed with a renewed resolve. I will continue to go out on my early morning walks. At least, smog wouldn’t leave me crippled, or even dead. Just a little out of breath.
lata@thehumanimpact.in
