Connectile Dysfunction

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The Killer Cabs Strike-- For Their Rights

From July 1, over 10,000 lorry and cab-drivers in Karnataka will be on strike. They are protesting against the government's heartless ordinance to install speed-governors that would limit their speeds to 65Kmph.

In city conditions, even at the best of times we can hardly exceed 40-50kmph. I cannot imagine why anyone might feel "constrained" if asked to drive at a respectable maximum of 65Kmph. The cabbies might argue that, by this logic, all cars must have a speed-governor installed. Why single out those poor, defenseless killer-machines alone? The answer, in my opinionated opinion, is rather simple.

I pause to ponder, in the few moments immediately succeeding a narrow escape on way to work. I do have a few choices, when an arrogant cab squeezes into a narrow space on my left (even as I am on the left edge of the road myself). I could continue in my lane and bang into the squeezy cab. I could swerve to avoid, and bang into the guy on my right. Or I could brake suddenly, thus saving me from the converging flanks. In this case, the guy behind me would be tempted to ram it in!

In all the cases, one would deem both (or all) the drivers culpable for an accident, if any. The difference is that I am merely a driver, struggling with my gears. He, however, is one with his machine. Like a T-Rex, there is a small but nimble brain inside that gigantic body. Like a crazed T-Rex, the cabbie can stomp through the roads at will and not even feel a scratch. The pedestrians and cars trembling under their shadow are but a few twigs being scrunched in the path of the monster.

This is not a comparison between equals; in fact, this is a fight we can never win. We, who use the road only few minutes in the day, essentially to get off the road and to be someplace else. They, whose skill and guile on the wheel is at the very core of their survival, who earn a living from the road, by the road -- who live on the road. We, the average worker tottering between home and office in a 4 year old Santro. They, the lean, mean, sleep-deprived drivers ferrying call-center executives and harried passengers in their mammoth, well-embellished Sumo and Qualis.

They drive rash because they can. Because they have been on the road long enough to own it. Because the SUVs given to them, in addition to seating more people, is also an imposing creature towering over the rush-hour ants.

They need the speed-governors because we understand that they are under pressure. Pressure from the HR executives to ferry the agents on time, traffic jams be damned. Pressure to work at unearthly hours, with little or no sleep between shifts. Pressure to brave the roads of Puttenhalli at 3AM.

They need speed-governors because they might be pressured enough to not see a frail old lady trying to cross the 6 lane main-road. Because, they may be pressured enough to make mistakes even though they are still human at heart.

They need the speed-governors because, to quote another super-bug: with great power, comes great responsibility.