Having still not found a job that could get me kicking out of my sleep, doing a mini-dada-ballet on my bed with a swiveling t-shirt and yelling “Thank god it’s Monday! ”, I usually stick to the more mundane style of waking up to the week. The usual kicking and throttling of the alarm clock is followed by some unsuccessful negotiations with the less dominate-able biological alarm clock - my mother, on my fundamental right to sleep for another ten minutes. And eventually like always the second alarm clock has its way and the ever growing burden of man being a civilized animal is bestowed upon me. The series of morning chores that have emerged as ugly by-products of our evolution begin to take turns to haunt me and all through this while my obnoxious little mobile phone would be crying for attention. It is perhaps the only creation of man that could challenge god’s super creations - woman in their ability of getting into your life and gobbling up all your time. And in either case, one has to eventually give into the temptation after dodging for a while. I reluctantly pick it up (the phone:-) and explain to my furious boss how I was just driving past all the landmarks around my office that he knows and could be there anytime. At this, I finally decide to leave my house and set out on my daily voyage to OMR - Chennai’s own Information Superhighway!!
Old Mahaballipuram Road might sound more like some haunted by-lane named after a legendry unforgiving goddess of death or something, but ironically it is meant to symbolize the surging exuberance of a new and youthful India that is to inhabit it. The almost 50 km stretch from Adyar to Mahaballipuram was slated to house some of the world’s greatest technology giants and some of India’s finest young minds and provide them with world class infrastructure. When I say world class infrastructure I obviously don’t mean some under the sea over the sky roadways or any earth shattering metro rails, I simply mean a simple plain road that doesn’t feel like you are on a mountain safari on a Monday morning and is built “exclusively for the use of vehicles” unlike most other roads in our country(more on this later!). A dream project hatched in the turn of this millennium to put Chennai firmly on the international IT roadmap.
It was rather an audacious vision for a man who had lost his own vision several decades ago. Any other government employee might have completed two cycles of retirements by now. Like all ‘sarkari’ dream projects this one too had its share of early hiccups and excruciating delays and by the time it took off the ground ‘The Mummy’ returned and brought it all to a grinding halt.
For the uninitiated, as a thumb rule in the politics of this state, all projects and proposals good or bad alike need to be turned on its heads and halted the moment a new government is elected to power as a thanks giving gesture to all their voters. I often wonder how we actually managed to get so far to be one of the better developed states in the country despite such hopeless traditions and weird practices and what on earth could be possibly happening in some other parts of this country who lag even behind?
To make matters worse in the case of the big Mummy, most government decisions are made on the basis of some ‘scientific’ predictions made by her notorious set of astrologers who perhaps prescribed halting work on OMR as a remedy for her constipational problems. And thus was halted the work on the OMR for the next five years. Until 2006 when the dead old man made yet another comeback from the grave.
As somebody who has been driving through this mess for the past two years, I can’t help but notice how this forever incomplete project has taken some shape from the original heap of mud and dust that it was not too long ago. The strategy was simple, take five village panchayats and the haunted road that connected it on the outskirts of the outermost suburb of the city and turn it into one weird eco system where farmers and software engineers co-existed in harmony. Where BMWs and water buffalos languished symbiotically. Where the ‘shining’ India would come face to face to its not so shining reality. And all this would be held together by this never-going-to-be-complete super highway. A truly audacious vision!
By now, I have managed to navigate my way through the by-lanes of alwarpet and adyar and their numerous pot holes to reach the beginning of the end – Madhya Kailash, the mouth of the OMR. Today has been a surprisingly good day, this first 3kms of my voyage has taken me only 30 mins to cover which considering the usual standard can be called 'at break neck speed'.
As you make your way into this superhighway you are greeted by some insanely large railway terminal complexes, ridiculously painted foot over bridges and a large welcome arch proclaiming your arrival. At first impression this road could be deceptively appealing. With well landscaped bushes and some dramatically designed bus stops seemingly awaiting the next space ship to land over it or something, you almost begin to believe in the surreal. As yet another train hisses past over your head and a few more insanely large train stations and ridiculously painted foot over bridges pass by, you are mesmerized by the charm of the OMR.
Often adding to the charm is our good old man himself along with his better behaved son taking poses at every corner waving at you and playing the perfect hosts. In the beginning you almost forgive them for their absolute lack of humility and let them take some credit for a project they actually 'completed'. But it is when they insist on doing this right through your journey and appear after every second bush morphed into some funny looking suit, that they get on your nerves. But on the brighter side these poster boys help keeping the crows away from the bushes.
By virtue of going through this treatment twice everyday for all days on both ways I have been numbed to immunity by now. I have now learnt to look away from them and be lost in better thoughts, thoughts of the days when the OMR existed only in newspaper articles and our dreamy articulations. ‘It would have 6 lanes’ declared one minister on one day, ‘It would be completed in several phases’ proclaimed another. As though they were building the Great Wall of China or something like that. And all of us startled at them in awe, little realizing that these buffoons were actually counting on both sides of the road…lol :-) and even lesser realizing what they actually meant by ‘execute the project in phases’. It is only today that I realize the real wickedness of that statement. As you drive by the OMR, one thing that you cannot miss noticing is the phased depreciation in quality and sophistication.
The first 3kms is the most flamboyant with flying trains, over landscaped bushes, over styled bus stops, glorious fountains and other artistic statements. This is phase one for you. As you start making your way into the second phase of it, the bus stops begin to disappear and share autos replace trains. The bushes go dry and the third lane almost disappears into oblivion. Just to remind you, this is only the second phase of the “Super IT expressway” and it almost feels like we are on just another city road. The third phase as you may have guessed is a revelation, but for the little bit of tar blue to its appearance there is nothing really in it to be called a road let alone calling it ‘The OMR’. Perhaps our ‘honorable’ ministers should have taken up the naming of the road in phases as well, or should have simply added a ‘V’ ahead of the name for every subsequent phase of the road after phase 1. So that phase 2 could be called V-OMR or very old mahaballipuram road and the third phase could become VV-OMR or very very old mahaballipuram road and so on… and set the souring expectations of the commuters straight. But expectations are funny things, the more you have them the harder someone somewhere is working to ensure they are never met. :-)
As you drive to the end of the vv-OMR you begin to see some early signs of ‘one of the most dreaded and hated’ structures of the world which is coming your way. If you guessed ‘Auschwitz’ you were probably close but it actually is the ever-so-annoying ‘Toll Plaza’. But unlike the Auschwitz there is no statement of warning engraved on it. Perhaps somebody should take the initiative to put up a suitable statutory warning such as ‘Auto Arbiet Macht not Frei’ meaning “Driving to work is not free!” or something like that so that the un-suspecting motorists trying to drive through it is well aware of its consequences. For the un-exposed readers curious to know what exactly happens in these plazas, here is a brief…
In a country of over a billion people which is shamelessly run on the tax paid by a miniscule of its huge population, the tax paying minority is always appreciated only by being subjected to more tax, taxes in so many different names and forms but all directed towards the same helpless lot and his meagre salary. And this is yet another variant of it where the poor tax-payer is taxed some more so that he could reach his destination where he can earn some more money so that he could pay some more tax. Can’t a road that is meant to cater to a population which has one of the highest proportions of tax-payers in it in the city be built at government cost as an acknowledgement to their tireless service day and night to bring in those billions of dollars into its coffers? It is understandable in the case where some large inter-state highways which need tremendous investment in a nation as large as ours where the government has no option but to toll the users to make ends meet. But is this not a ridiculous extrapolation of that logic?, where people who have just managed to emerge out of their poverty struck roots to spearhead the nation’s growth story are being charged an unreasonable sum, much larger than the daily wages earned by a majority of our nation just to drive to their work place on a daily basis on a road that was built with their own tax money!, Is our government really so cash strapped that it cannot fund road construction even within city limits, a limit that it set all by itself? It would be interesting to see, if the same logic is applied to the construction of the ambitious new assembly complex building and a toll plaza is setup at its gates to tax every single MLA and minister who uses it. That day, I promise to stop complaining.
At the end of all this, the road fails to impress anymore and all you can see in it after this is its flaws and your toll money. But the greatness of the OMR does not confine to just the road, it lies in the eco system that is built around it. It lies in the idea of turning this marshy crocodile and hyenas inhibited land into the hottest selling real estate in the city overnight. Billboards on both sides read “Come live in paradise in the midst of nature” (and get eaten up alive by leopards and crocodiles you may think) But you may be surprised by the sheer magnitude and scale of the construction activity happening here. It’s a concrete jungle draped in glass and steel that is taking shape here.
Another peculiarity of this ecosystem is its dominant species – Software Engineers. You find software engineers on OMR like you find china-men in Chinatown. Hanging around buses, bulging out of share-autos and jumping over meadian walls – they are just all over the place. All geared up in power suits and killer skirts to code the world. Coming a close second to them are the farmers and the villagers from those half a dozen village panchayats still buried behind the glass and steel structures who come out on that occasional stroll and often take position on the medians in groups as though they were Olympic swimmers ready to dive in for the 100 mts butterfly style dash into the road. But it would be more appropriate to call this “frog style” considering what they would look like if they happen to come under one of those large water lorries that ply on this road. As I skillfully dodge these men and navigate my way out, my body’s reflex system reacts quicker than I could realize and gets me to jump on my breaks and brings the car to a screeching halt.
All this in the interest of the innocent water buffalo that has just strayed into my path from its usual position on the medians where it sits all day and feasts on the glorious variety of flowers that are being grown there for it to feed on. I see the face of the man at the toll booth in the eyes of that buffalo. Isn’t this grossly unfair by any standard? To be expected to confront a buffalo on your way to office on a road that you pay for every single day through your nose just to see it built and maintained! If there is a list of the ten biggest atrocities in the world, this must be right up there at the top.
This is not all, any road in India and this being no exception is the urban equivalent of the equatorial forest in terms of the diversity of the species that ply on it. There are cars, buses, autos & lorries and then mini buses, share autos & mini lories and then tractors, bullock carts, tri-cycles & rickshaws and a few more unclassifiable vehicles that look like cycles but are powered like cars and loaded up like container ships! If this was not enough, there are the ever so notorious kids, less notorious but equally annoying grannies and an assortment of wild and domestic animals walking the road in all possible directions. But the king of this jungle is the most interesting and intimidating of them all – The garbage trucks. They stink like how the Beatles sing or Shakespeare writes poetry or the way Nepolean fights his wars! Simply un-beatable. When they drive by in all their glory, buffalos faint on the road and unsuspecting humans run for cover. And the bustling road comes to a complete standstill.
A few minutes later I regain my senses and continue my journey slowly, cautious not to catch up with that beasty creature once again. By now I’m in the final leg of my long and eventful journey from the heart of the city to the middle of nowhere. I can see tiger woods waving his golf club at me at a distance. The billboard reads “Shozhinganallur town panchayat welcomes you!” – One glance at that and my dead spirits are all awakened once again. This place with a name that sounds more like what you would get when somebody makes you type the capital of Kyrgyzstan on a keyboard with your boxing gloves on is actually my destination. The mid point of OMR where I disembark everyday.
I get all excited, step on the gas for that final lap and watch my speedometer go from 40..to 50.. 60.. and beyond and my reflex system acts out of sync yet again and brings the car to screeching halt. Nahh its not the buffalo this time its much worse than that. A notorious set of traffic cops on OMR who have a pretty weird pastime. They have this funny looking instrument that looks like a kaleidoscope through which they keep looking at every passing car hiding behind the bushes all day long awaiting that eureka moment. The moment they see the majic figure of 50 on it, they start jumping around in joy and fall in front of the car like a bunch of high school kids who have just knocked a mango down from the tree on a boring Sunday afternoon. And I’m the bakra of the day as you may have guessed, caught just a few meters ahead of my office and my day is never going to be the same again. “Even if we were to build a Champs Elysee in Chennai someday, somethings just would’t change” I think to myself as I pull over to the side to these men’s absolute ecstasy.
- An$ar Za!nul
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