I am breezy!

I have started these morning cycle rides. They were supposed to make my mornings early mornings, as well as give me an agile start for the day. Since 8 am is earlier than 9 am, I’m guessing I succeeded.

This morning was a special experience though. My sister and I set out from our house in Besant Nagar in search of what is officially called Tiruvanmiyur beach. Now, non-Chennaiites have this romantic image in their mind where one beach merges into another, allowing cyclists a breezy ride along the coast. It’s another matter that cycling along the beach is mostly terribly windy and not breezy. 

Before I got my bicycle to Chennai, I was apprehensive that I would never be able to ride them on the roads, thanks to speed-crazy motorists. I have also had some headlights blinked on me by massive Japanese automobiles claiming their right of way over my BSA SLR. But, on the whole, I’ve managed to retain my space and enjoy cross country rides, at least in Besant Nagar. 

The thought of riding in Tiruvanmiyur, the IT hub and possibly the fastest growing commercial area in Chennai, did scare me. It turned out not too many vehicles had ventured out, courtesy Mattu Pongal. Besides there was the wall of the Kalakshetra campus to stick to and save oneself from sudden bursts of wheels at least from one direction. 

We stood at Tiruvanmiyur temple, faced with a road turning left, seaward, and another going straight. An auto-wallah had told us at Bessie that the beach we were looking for was about 4 km away, and we definitely hadn’t traveled so far yet. So, when a shopkeeper told us that the distance to the T beach wasn’t large enough to be measured in kms and we had to take the left, we thankfully took it. 

Weaving past fish markets, where people oddly were perturbed by our bicycles despite three large cars stubbornly creating quite a jam right in the middle of the road, we reached the ‘kuppam beach road’. It was a slum, and the sea was plainly visible, lashing waves at the shore. I addressed a boy staring at us : “Where is the Tiruvanmiyur beach?” Immediately I felt foolish, and the boy must have sensed that. For his look changed from puzzled to indifferent and he said, ”This is the beach.” 

Not having much of a point to argue against that, we turned right and went southward in search of the official T beach. We did find one, which a man squatting nearby guffawed was in fact the “lovers’ beach”. Disheartened we settled for figuring out a way back by-passing the fish market, when we encountered a colleague of mine. I waved down the lifeline and thankfully enquired to him in a language I knew he would understand, “We were trying to find our way to what is officially the T beach, but don’t seem to be able to do that.” 

He gave us directions, which we noted for a future trip. Now, are my communication skills limited to a certain circle – class and kind- of people who have similar communication skills? Actually, I know that’s not true, for there have been plenty of other times, in fact all other times, when I have been able to travel to a certain place by enquiring directions perfectly in the local tongue. Even when the local language was literally not what I knew. 

I was just trying to introduce some food for though in a perfect non-agenda narrative. I feel weird writing something like that. I mean, where is the peg then?

 

 

Privatisation of public space

Public space is a concept that we as an urbanizing society seem to be not catching up with in western terms in our obsession with growth and other popular notions of comfort and status. A significant evidence strides proudly before us everyday, a gleaming metallic box mounted on four wheels - the car, a marvel invented by the sheer ingenuity of mankind, a disaster in the making all credit to mankind again. 

 

It was while driving down to office on my two-wheeled oil guzzler, cursing huge concoctions of wheels that were righteously claiming their right of way over bicycles and pedestrians, that I realized how directly cars signify exemplify the vicious cycle in resource allocation in free markets. It was the same day I read that worldwide traffic rules say that pedestrians have a right of way on roads.

 

Coming back to resource allocation, take the resource of public space-the commons.

 

Cars have taken up a major chunk of space on roads – precious public space for mobility, because of their monetary power to do so. In other words, I buy a car; I own the space that my car occupies on the road. True, I have paid road tax. I can even claim that I am part of the minuscule section of income tax-payers in India, whose money has been used in building those roads in the first place.

 

Whereas, the next person doesn’t earn enough to pay tax, nor to buy a car. His right of mobility has taken back seat against the right of citizens to own and drive a car, as there is only so much space available on the road and that has to be shared. His right to use that tiny piece of public space that his feet occupy has been reigned over by the right of a car owner to park his 4-wheeled steed. The pedestrian slowly gets excluded from urban roads.

 

A mobility handicap in a metro is as good as an economic handicap. Newly created wealth gets re-allocated to the car-owner who can pay for it using the resources he has saved by easy mobility. He can consume it for betterment in life, as he has saved personal energy in commuting. He can buy yet another car which can exclude yet another pedestrian from urban public life.

 

Cars have effectively managed to privatize most of the public space available on road. What’s more, they claim that the ‘menace of two wheelers’ in our roads, and the ‘lack of traffic sense among our pedestrians’ are the problems in the urban transport system today. They just need to look around to find every second inch of our roads covered by a car occupying half the space that a bus occupies, but carrying just one person – 1/35^th that a bus carries.