One of my enduring memories from the first time I visited Melbourne is walking around looking for lunch and spotting a compact row of bright blue bicycles that were neatly stowed on the sidewalk.
The first question that popped up in my mind was: “How come everyone here rides the exact same bicycle?”
A moment later, I felt sheepish. I realised that it was a bike rental system. Precisely the kind of system I wish upon all cities. At home, of course, it is unlikely to work. First of all, there are no cycling lanes. When the national capital, Delhi, tried to create a cycling track along one stretch of BRT (a rapid bus transit lane) a few years ago, it was promptly hijacked by motorcyclists and auto-rickshaws. A few small cars tried to squirm in as well. Cops had to be stationed there to catch and fine three- and four-wheelers. It never was possible to fine scooters and motorbikes — because they insisted that they interpreted the bicycle symbol for the lane as a ‘two-wheeler symbol’. At any rate, the BRT system was dismantled and the exclusive bicycle track vanished. Currently, bikes ride on the pavements.
Secondly, there’s a good chance that the bicycles would get stolen. We’d need to station cops or guards to make sure people paid rent and returned them.
I wanted to ask my friends in Melbourne: “How come your bicycles don’t get stolen?” But it felt like a foolish question. Maybe they had some technology to track down stolen bikes. Or perhaps, bicycle theft simply wasn’t worth the trouble and the risk of prosecution.
In India, of course, bicycles are useful, not just as a vehicle, but also a potential source of scrap metal. And there are a great many people who take great risks for very little gain. That same year, there was a robbery in my uncle’s house. One of the employees’ bicycles was stolen at night, despite high boundary walls all around. The local security guards’ bicycles had also been stolen a few nights before, so they had been keeping an eye peeled. The thief was soon caught red-handed. He had made the mistake of returning to the same street to steal some iron rods that were lying outside a house.
Anything that’s sitting on the road, or even just inside one’s own property, if it’s easily accessible from the road, is likely to tempt some desperate citizen. Iron rods aren’t worth a lot of money — definitely not worth time spent in prison — and yet, people try to steal them. Metal drain covers are stolen sometimes. Dustbins aren’t spared either. In Mumbai, I have seen elevated metal bins with their bottoms cut out. Metal tumblers are often chained to free drinking water outlets, so people don’t walk away with them. Tumblers in train toilets are chained to taps. The taps in public toilets get stolen too.
I once lived on a street where slabs of stone that covered an open drain were stolen. That monsoon, we were all wading through overflowing sewage.
I don’t know how much a slab of stone costs. Nor do I know what it costs to cover drains. But one thing I do know: wading through sewage is an experience that diminishes your self-esteem. And thinking about the man who steals drain covers for a living, being caught and put in jail does not make you feel any better.
The author is a writer of essays, stories, poems and scripts for stage and screen
NO SEPARATE CASE
Until the 1990s, police would register missing bicycle cases under a separate section. Today, they file cases of bicycle thefts under IPC Section 379 (theft).
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