INDIANS LOVE TO HONK - DON'T THEY?

Indians are a horny lot; we just love to honk. It is not uncommon to see a car moving on a deserted road with nary a man or animal or any other moving object in sight; and the driver of the vehicle pressing the horn every now and then. Why? Several reasons are given in this article; but, the main one is that the sound of our own horn restores our confidence in our driving ability. Those who witnessed the last FIFA World Cup were amused to see the South Africans pull out a long instrument with weird sound called the Vuvuzela with which they greeted anything of interest on the field. Well, it is the same with the Indian use of the horn on the road. Honking is a celebration of our freedom.

The number one use of the horn is the proclamation of the desire to move faster. We are convinced that accelerator and horn are to be pressed together. Accelerator makes us go faster without any assistance from others; but, the horn declares to all and sundry that we are in a hurry. So, then, why don't they hear us and give us way? Simple, because they too are in a hurry and pressing the horn equally blithely. We may be in the midst of a huge traffic jam (caused more often than not because of our curious driving skills); but, we are convinced that somehow the incessant honking would brighten up things.

The second use is to tell all the people around that we can see things more clearly than them. For example, ours may be the farthest vehicle from the traffic lights; but, the nincompoops ahead of us need to know that we saw the lights turning green before them. Similarly, if we see an opening in the slow moving traffic (which is always the case) we must indicate to the ignoramuses that a detour to the pavement would make them and consecquently us reach ahead of the slow-moving lane.

Then there is the frequent honking to drive some sense in the driver whom we suspect is intending to take advantage of us; eg, by slowly edging towards our lane which he perceives is moving faster than his lane. Also, if he too is eyeing a spot in the traffic that gives the person some advantage (maybe a few feet) vis-a-vis others around, we must bring home the misconception to him. Finally, if he is heading towards the only parking place that we had viewed much before him, shouldn't we claim the spot like the Arizona gold-hunters? It is just a natural instinct - no big deal.

The above are types of specific honking with specific aims, however unattainable these might be. However, there is one general honking, very regular, loud and may sound irritating. It is to tell people around us how important we are and how unworthy they all are. During the days of the rajahs, when the rajahs used to move on elephants, they used to have footmen walking in front blowing conches and horns to signify the king's arrival. Because of austerity measures and also because of the speed of vehicles, it is not possible to have footmen walking in front of their vehicles announcing their arrival nowadays. Hence, these modern day monarchs have to rely on vehicle horns. What is wrong with that?

Honking is also used to bring home others' mistakes. For example if the vehicle ahead of us is stopping to let pedestrians cross, we have a choice either to overtake him and wade through the unruly lot; or we can honk and let the vehicle ahead realise the wrong he is about to commit. What is wrong with that? It is just a natural instinct. Also, when our lights are turning red and the across lights are turning green, shouldn't we honk to indicate to the uncouth lot that we are allowed to cross until a few seconds after the lights have turned red, following the trail of those who are crossing in green lights? Shouldn't they wait?

Some honking is just to break the monotony of the journey. Have you ever thought of how boring a drive is without honking; everybody minding their business, everybody giving way to everyone, everyone keeping to their lane etc? It would make people go to sleep and make them less alert. Such societies with such niceties are doomed to dullness. Indians are the only brainy people who have realised that some entertainment, fun, challenges, surprises are really required whilst driving to keep you awake. The expression, "There is never a dull moment" was born as soon as they introduced driving in India and a great part of it is to do with the horn.

Lastly, what do you do with things that you have paid good money to buy? If you have bought a TV set, would it serve anyone's purpose if no one plays it? Similarly, if there is a horn in the vehicle, isn't it wasteful expenditure not to use it? Can a poor country like India afford such wasteful expenditure?

Please note I have not even recorded such legitimate honking as after winning a match or during processions; or to express joy at finding no cop; or a lorry, bus or cab driver sighting his gaanv wala (country-cousin); or to regain a spot that you previously held in a lane when you moved to the other lane erroneously thinking traffic was moving faster there.

So, next time when you tend to get amused or irritated by Indians compulsively honking, think of all the purposes it is serving, including national interest. Don't just be judgmental because you don't know the aims of this glorious obsession we have with the horns. We could be wearing them, you know.

THE GREAT ESCAPE

There was a knock; at first it was faint, barely distinguishable but later it grew louder and more authoritative. He ignored it, not because he was too tired or too sleepy to get up and confront the person knocking with all its might. He knew the person; he liked her and everything about her. But, he was very skeptical about allowing her in. Last time he had allowed a similar one in and there was hell to pay. His house was in disarray for considerable time after she had left. He knew that more than her, he had only himself to blame for having opened the door. As long as he was inside he had relative comfort, relative security, and exclusivity. The moment he opened the door, she would slowly conquer his space. He had no fear of his loneliness. He was quite comfortable with himself; he had never hated the person he saw in the mirror everyday.

She knew she had a great chance of succeeding if she'd keep knocking. If at all life had taught her anything, it was the realisation that knocking always helps. She had, hence, emerged a great knocker. Her favourite quote was, "If God closes a door, he opens a window". She had the force of great conviction behind her. She had simply walked in many an open window. God, she maintained, had been kind to her.

He knew she could not walk through his windows; he was on a higher floor, and he never opened the windows.

The incessant tapping at the door became too loud to be ignored. He knew that his heart beat had already started responding to it; hence, for every thuck thuck, there was an equivalent dhak dhak. Finally, he realised that it was futile to keep pretending she could not enter. She was already there.

Initially, there was no problem about the closeness of the space. This was the exploration phase. Indeed, even though he had a two room flat, she was quite content in being with him in a single room. It was rather cosy and there was no question of either of them feeling claustrophobic. When she sang, it echoed from all the walls and he soared; no one had ever sung exclusively for him. He was convinced she had the most beautiful eyes in the world. Hence, whenever he wanted to fly, he only had to look into the ocean of those deep eyes.

However, after she came in, the world - their world - changed. Initially, both were content about living with each other in the present, enjoying each other's company and everything connected with each other. Of course they had squabbles but these could at worst be called mere tiffs. But gradually, she started living more in future. Therefore, a time came when both of them were geographically in the same location but were in different times.

It was a constant tussel between them. She wanted the future - her future - to be discussed, to be secure. He wanted to love, to be loved, to cherish the present. She went along with him at times and more often than not enjoyed what the present held for her: he had an innate wit that she liked, compassion, and other finer feelings and a strange appeal. But no sooner that she'd finish enjoying the present she'd go back to the future.

He never wanted Love to be conditional. If he had known that she had other plans he wouldn't have ever opened the door...or the windows.

Initially, she tried to go out of their space only mentally...not really on a fantasy ride but on an escape to the world that she craved. She debated with herself that an Indian woman, in a male dominated society, does have to worry about her future.

Later, she actually started going out....

She was attractive and there were any number of men who were fascinated by her charm. She reasoned that if it was all about living in the present with no commitment, then present certainly can be made more colourful, more acceptable, more exciting. Indeed, she often confronted him with, "If you have ideas, I have ideas of my own."

This ruffled him badly. Who said anything about commitment? Love is a supremely selfish feeling, he argued. One cannot be loving everyone. One has to love one...and hence, there is commitment.

Later, when she used to return to the room - their world - in the night, he could sense her deception. She continued to make light of it and often said that because of him she couldn't be expected to cut ties with everyone. She asserted her independence. Why is it, she demanded, that in Indian society, men could do anything but women were to toe a rigid line? Why is it that in a male-dominated Indian society women are to be castigated for even talking to men?

He kept quiet. He knew the truth.

He reckoned that when she had invaded his privacy by knocking at his door he had welcomed it so that they could make a world of their own. But, now, there was hardly any space or even time for themselves. For all practical purposes they lived in different worlds.

One day, she woke up as usual and turned towards his side of the bed. She used to love getting up just a few moments before him and look at his handsome face when he was totally defenceless. She couldn't find him in the bed. Perhaps he had gone to the toilet, she thought. But minutes later she didn't hear the familiar sound of the flush or the door. She got up and checked; he wasn't there. She went to the other room and he wasn't there too...or in the kitchen.

The door was still bolted from inside. This meant he was there in the house somewhere. She searched and searched but couldn't find him.

She called out his name frantically. There was no response.

She threw open the window and looked out. No, he couldn't have. It was too high to jump and there was nowhere to hide...anywhere.

And yet...he was gone...just at the time when she felt she had him; when she felt he'd never leave.

INDIA PAK ODI PREVIEW - JUST A MATCH?

The atmosphere is electric. Work in both the countries has come to a stand-still. You can distinguish ordinary people from those in powerful positions (or so they think) by the latter barely hiding their excitement by saying, "Come on; it is only a game".

Mohali stadium is more full than the last Himachal Roadways bus from Chandigarh to Shimla. The noise levels have defined newer standards in cacophony. People in both countries are glued to the television as if it is their last chance ever to watch a match.

There are still ten minutes for the game to start. In the VVIP stand Pakistan PM Yousuf Raza Gilani, on his cellphone, is urgently discussing something with President Obama. He is whispering so low that no one can hear him. Manmohan Singh is not even making an attempt to overhear because, on his phone, the RAW is providing live text of the conversation.

Gilani: President Sir; forget about any other financial aid to compensate us for our sterling and sacrificing role in your Global War on Terror (Aside, that too is picked by RAW: Global and War are yours and your allies but Terror is totally ours). We want your help in winning this match.

Obama: But why is winning so important to you?

Gilani: Several reasons. The most important is that from the earlier aid you gave us for floods etc, my cabinet colleagues and I have bet nearly a thousand crore on Pakistan winning. Two, the team and us want to go back alive after the match, and...

Obama: Okay, I get the idea. But what can we do?

Gilani: What can you do? How are you asking, what can you do? We have seen for ourselves what you can do, Sir. Davis, an ordinary US embassy technical and administrative staff showed us what you can do. Your display of humanitarian assistance to Libyans has hinted to us what you can do. Sir, we know there is nothing that US cannot do.

Obama: Let me see; should we send some one in disguise to the Indian dressing room?

Gilani: Aha...now you are talking. I leave the method to you, Sir. But please hurry, President Saheb, the match is about to start.

The din is excessive; which is only appropriate for two countries in the world that make maximum noise between themselves. Indeed, when they refuse to make noise (in some circles this noise is called 'talks'), others have to intervene to ask them to re-start making noise.....and gas.

Umpires Simon Taufel of Australia and Ian Gould of England walk up to the middle. Both the Captains join them. The cheering has broken the sound-barrier.

At the toss, Afridi has asked for 'Heads'. He knows there is something typically Pakistani about asking for heads; their history from ancient times is replete with instances when they have demanded heads. Dhoni, like what Indians are always used to, gets the 'Tails'. The coin is tossed.

Gilani pulls out his cellphone (ever since 26/11, men in authority in Pakistan know the importance of cellphone): President Sir, let me see proof of your being with us. Make us win the toss.

Pakistan wins the toss and elects to bat.

Manmohan to Gilani (as always in the appeasing tone so that they would listen to reason): Great, you have won the toss. Congratulations...

Gilani ignores it as Pakistan does with every attempt to placate them.

Indian team takes up positions. Mohammad Hafeez and Kamran Akmal walk to the crease. There is pin-drop silence even on the TV except for one B Dutt who has perfected the art of saying the obvious: "The match is about to begin. History is about to be written....may Pakis....I mean, the best team win".

Her comments go totally unnoticed as people have learnt long ago not to pay her attention.

Zaheer Khan goes on top of his run - up. Prayers take on renewed vigour. Every ball counts. He bowls and it is hit for a four. There is uproar from the Pakistani fans. Gilani is on his feet.

The going is good with both the openers fluently hitting the bowlers all over the field. So happy is the going that Gilani has no need to make any calls.

Bhajji is brought in early and he too is hammered all over the place.

An aide reports to Chidambaram that some Pakistani fans quietly left the field and are headed towards Srinagar. Chidambaram asks the Security to keep a watch on them. Army Chief calls to say there is large scale infilteration from across the border. Manmohan tells him to keep a watch on the situation since there is an important World Cup match in progress.

"But, Sir", persists the Army Chief, "It is just a match whereas the situation here is turning grave".

PM, "I know it is just a match; but, we have to give the impression everything is normal. The whole world is watching us. Ring me up after four-five hours".

Meanwhile there has been a change of bowling. And Yuvraj, as expected, has struck. Gilani is about to reach for the cellphone but Younis puts the train back on track.

Later, the wickets keep falling at regular intervals but the batsmen in an act of supreme defiance - the one that they ususally assume when playing against India - take the score to 267 in 50 overs, ably helped by a swashbuckling innings of 52 runs by Shahid Afridi.

It is not a very big score but under the conditions everyone agrees that it is a fighting score.
B Dutt also agrees.

After the break, Sehwag and Sachin take the field. Akmal before taking up his position behind the wickets says something to Sehwag. Most of it is inaudible but Sehwag hears the word "ma" clearly. This inspires Sehwag to send the first two deliveries of Shoaib Akhtar to the boundary. Shoaib goes across and tells Akmal to refrain from the "ma" word and..... switch to other relatives.

Sachin goes early on a no ball by Umar Gul. All Indians are crestfallen.
Air Force Chief rings up the PM, "Sir I have bad news."
PM: "I know...Sachin just got out..."
Air Force Chief, "Sir, actually one of our planes on routine mission was hit by a missile from across the border....."
PM: "You manage the situation. What are you Air Force Chief for? Here there is do or die"
Air Force Chief: "Sir, it is just a match.."
PM: "Don't I know it? Now let me concentrate please..."

Despite all the tamasha, the match goes on. Fortunes swing, sometimes this side, sometimes that side.

And then....

It is the last over. India requires 5 to win...

Tension is everywhere. "Why does an India - Pakistan match resemble a cliff-hanger?", everyone asks. Everyone knows the answer. Bookies laugh all the way to the .....well, not the bank since they can never put these kind of winnings in a bank....maybe, laugh all the way to...well, you know the answer; why do you require me to tell it?

The first ball of Abdul Razzaq, takes the wicket of Yousuf Pathan who had made a quick 43 in 27 balls.
There is hushed silence.
Will India lose again?

In various parts of India, B Dutt reports, as many as 6 people have died of heart-attack.

It is just a game....they had said.

Bhajji is the next batsman in. Akmal tells him, "Teri ma..." etc.
Bhajji is quite used to it and just before Razzak bowls his next delivery, he tells Akmal a ripe one.
Akmal misses to catch the snick by Bhajji in the confusion and Bhajji and Ashwin take two runs.

Four balls to go and three to be scored.

Camera shows a girl in the stand closing her eyes and praying to Allah to make India win.

Gilani does the same but asks for Pakistan to win. Allah too is confused. He tells his assistant, "You had told me it is just a match".

Can they do it? Or won't they?

Bhajji takes one run on the next ball against all odds and now the match is nearly in India's favour with three balls to go.

Gilani reaches for the phone: "President Sir; the Indians are about to cross the threshold".

Obama assumes he is talking about nuclear threshold. His worst fears are coming true.

There is an urgent call to Manmohan even as Razzak is walking up to the top of his bowling run-up: "Listen Singh; call off the ruddy match. We don't want mayhem on our hands".

Manmohan: "But, Mr President, it is just a match....."