I happen to be in a unique position where I have roughly equal experience driving in America and India. Granted, those quantities aren't very large, so it's like saying I have an equal understanding of Gujarati and Bengali, but the statement is nevertheless true. So, I'm going to use my position to describe driving in both countries, and give you my reasoning on which is the superior experience. I'll start with India.
I got my Indian driver's license over 2 years ago, after I spent a month training at 'Modern Driving School', named almost ironically since I was learning in an ancient Hyundai Santro. I learned how to use the clutch, obey traffic lights and speed limits (when cops were around), and avoid collisions by using the horn rather than the brakes. Most importantly I was taught to respect the One True Law of Indian Roads: buses are the bosses. Submit to their monstrous municipal might, or be bumped, dented and squished.
At the end of 30 grueling but edifying days, the same guy who taught me to drive also took me to the RTO. There, my multi-talented instructor suborned all the right employees to "expedite" the process. But bribery was so rampant and obvious in the RTO that one would assume it was a part of the official protocol. After that, I had to actually take my driving test, which tested my ability to drive on a straight, empty road. How unrealistic. For good measure, I tried showing off my prowess to the examiner (who was watching from outside) by doing a U-turn and driving back to where he was standing, but by then he had already left. A few days later, I got the license I had purchased.
It was only after that that I began to drive unsupervised. Thanks to some further training from our family driver, and hours of practice on Mario Kart 8 (which was, in fact, inspired by Indian roads), I quickly acclimatized. It was not long before I was swerving around unexpected potholes with finesse, creating gaps between the four cars abreast on a two-lane road, and honking masterfully at vehicles, pedestrians and cows. These obstacles separated the weak from the impatient. However, none of these skills translated to good driving when I began to drive in the US; in fact, I started with a bit of a handicap.
I have only been driving in the US for about a year; it was around April 2016 that I decided that I should put the lives of American citizens at risk by trying to get my license. After learning America's comparatively byzantine driving rules, I took my first driving test in my friend's bright blue Mustang convertible. I say "first" because I failed the test, after driving like I would have in India. The unforgiving examiner sitting next to me shrieked as I sped up to try to make a yellow light, and didn't make it before it turned red. She only got more livid when I ignored a stop sign, a yield sign, and executed what I can only call 'perpendicular parking'. When she coldly told me I had failed, I remember asking her if there was any limit on the number of times I could take a driving test. She looked at me for a second and then said, "despite the way you international people drive, no."
After a few weeks of practice, which were haunted by the examiner's screams every time I saw a yellow light, I took the test again. I was so afraid to get stuck with the same examiner that I booked my driving test in the town of Logansport, an hour's drive away. It was worth it: this time, the woman administering my test was far nicer. Despite a rocky start, I managed to keep my drive violation-free and my examiner shriek-free. She told me I had passed, and a week later I got my hard-earned license.
At the beginning of my internship last August, I gave a graduating PhD student a check for $3200 and he handed me the keys to a dark red Kia Optima. I should mention that the two events were unrelated acts of goodwill, because calling the car a "gift" allowed me to save $200 on taxes! #TaxHacks. Anyway, I was now the 5th lucky owner of this 8-year-old crimson chariot that was in surprisingly good condition. After shaking the guy's hand, I got into the car and turned the key. The engine hummed in obeisance to its new owner. I happily reversed out of the Taco Bell parking lot (where the transaction had taken place) and thus began terrorizing the streets of my college campus.
Since then, the expertise I had gained on Indian roads has begun to ebb, because driving my Kia is so easy. Everyone in the US knows that the white and yellow lines on the road indicate lanes they must follow, and aren't simplify intended to beautify the road. They slow down when the light turns yellow, not just when the cop turns towards them. They use the horn in cases of impending danger, not ascending anger. They follow signs for directions about rules, not just for directions about routes. Their whole process of driving is so regulated, structured and predictable. And that's why it sucks.
In the US, you don't get that adrenaline rush from "almost dying" every four seconds, that is so characteristic of our urban Indian roads. There's no necessity for that nimble Desi steering that so stimulates the mind and reflexes, as we carve out a path through a gauntlet of potential collisions. People don't stick their heads out and unleash streams of extemporized invective the way auto rickshaw drivers do at the mildest provocation. Overtaking another car here is viewed as a perfunctory event, not a power tactic to assert your dominance over that annoyingly slow Maruti 800. It's all so humdrum; there's simply no challenge.
So, the next time you hear me lionizing the asphalted vortex of entropy that is the Indian road, I hope you will understand the sentiment. After driving in my motherland, I find driving in America far too mundane. Just today, I nearly fell asleep when I stopped at a Stop sign. Therefore, here's my verdict. An Indian driver in the US might have his license revoked for breaking several American rules and bones. But if he's looking for an exhilarating threat to his life, he will find the roads quite inadequate to the task of challenging his battle-trained reflexes.
I got my Indian driver's license over 2 years ago, after I spent a month training at 'Modern Driving School', named almost ironically since I was learning in an ancient Hyundai Santro. I learned how to use the clutch, obey traffic lights and speed limits (when cops were around), and avoid collisions by using the horn rather than the brakes. Most importantly I was taught to respect the One True Law of Indian Roads: buses are the bosses. Submit to their monstrous municipal might, or be bumped, dented and squished.
At the end of 30 grueling but edifying days, the same guy who taught me to drive also took me to the RTO. There, my multi-talented instructor suborned all the right employees to "expedite" the process. But bribery was so rampant and obvious in the RTO that one would assume it was a part of the official protocol. After that, I had to actually take my driving test, which tested my ability to drive on a straight, empty road. How unrealistic. For good measure, I tried showing off my prowess to the examiner (who was watching from outside) by doing a U-turn and driving back to where he was standing, but by then he had already left. A few days later, I got the license I had purchased.
It was only after that that I began to drive unsupervised. Thanks to some further training from our family driver, and hours of practice on Mario Kart 8 (which was, in fact, inspired by Indian roads), I quickly acclimatized. It was not long before I was swerving around unexpected potholes with finesse, creating gaps between the four cars abreast on a two-lane road, and honking masterfully at vehicles, pedestrians and cows. These obstacles separated the weak from the impatient. However, none of these skills translated to good driving when I began to drive in the US; in fact, I started with a bit of a handicap.
I have only been driving in the US for about a year; it was around April 2016 that I decided that I should put the lives of American citizens at risk by trying to get my license. After learning America's comparatively byzantine driving rules, I took my first driving test in my friend's bright blue Mustang convertible. I say "first" because I failed the test, after driving like I would have in India. The unforgiving examiner sitting next to me shrieked as I sped up to try to make a yellow light, and didn't make it before it turned red. She only got more livid when I ignored a stop sign, a yield sign, and executed what I can only call 'perpendicular parking'. When she coldly told me I had failed, I remember asking her if there was any limit on the number of times I could take a driving test. She looked at me for a second and then said, "despite the way you international people drive, no."
After a few weeks of practice, which were haunted by the examiner's screams every time I saw a yellow light, I took the test again. I was so afraid to get stuck with the same examiner that I booked my driving test in the town of Logansport, an hour's drive away. It was worth it: this time, the woman administering my test was far nicer. Despite a rocky start, I managed to keep my drive violation-free and my examiner shriek-free. She told me I had passed, and a week later I got my hard-earned license.
At the beginning of my internship last August, I gave a graduating PhD student a check for $3200 and he handed me the keys to a dark red Kia Optima. I should mention that the two events were unrelated acts of goodwill, because calling the car a "gift" allowed me to save $200 on taxes! #TaxHacks. Anyway, I was now the 5th lucky owner of this 8-year-old crimson chariot that was in surprisingly good condition. After shaking the guy's hand, I got into the car and turned the key. The engine hummed in obeisance to its new owner. I happily reversed out of the Taco Bell parking lot (where the transaction had taken place) and thus began terrorizing the streets of my college campus.
Since then, the expertise I had gained on Indian roads has begun to ebb, because driving my Kia is so easy. Everyone in the US knows that the white and yellow lines on the road indicate lanes they must follow, and aren't simplify intended to beautify the road. They slow down when the light turns yellow, not just when the cop turns towards them. They use the horn in cases of impending danger, not ascending anger. They follow signs for directions about rules, not just for directions about routes. Their whole process of driving is so regulated, structured and predictable. And that's why it sucks.
In the US, you don't get that adrenaline rush from "almost dying" every four seconds, that is so characteristic of our urban Indian roads. There's no necessity for that nimble Desi steering that so stimulates the mind and reflexes, as we carve out a path through a gauntlet of potential collisions. People don't stick their heads out and unleash streams of extemporized invective the way auto rickshaw drivers do at the mildest provocation. Overtaking another car here is viewed as a perfunctory event, not a power tactic to assert your dominance over that annoyingly slow Maruti 800. It's all so humdrum; there's simply no challenge.
So, the next time you hear me lionizing the asphalted vortex of entropy that is the Indian road, I hope you will understand the sentiment. After driving in my motherland, I find driving in America far too mundane. Just today, I nearly fell asleep when I stopped at a Stop sign. Therefore, here's my verdict. An Indian driver in the US might have his license revoked for breaking several American rules and bones. But if he's looking for an exhilarating threat to his life, he will find the roads quite inadequate to the task of challenging his battle-trained reflexes.
Fantastic piece! Glad you are back to writing in your inimitable style. Keep writing and sharing. God Bless!
ReplyDeleteHahaha ... Monstrous.municipal.might!! Lovely!! And this happens to be my exact sentiments about driving in these two places!! Super...Keep writing!
ReplyDelete