Notes on Driving in India

Notes on Driving, made after our long drives from Woodstock to Delhi and Agra, and back:

Along the road north of Delhi are a number of hand-operated large tricycles, evidently for paraplegics – moving along the roadway along with countless bicycles and oxcarts heavily laden with incredible loads of bricks or subgarcane. This is especially dangerous at night, because very few of these vehicles have any tail-lights or reflectors.

Trucks traditionally have gaudy English inscriptions on the back: “Keep Distance” “Blow Horn” “Use Dipper At Night”, and patriotic Hindi inscriptions “Jai Hind” on the side, with a flag and various patriotic symbols painted as well.

Commercial vehicles typically encounter checkpoints and tolls at each state border crossing. This makes for crowds of trucks, and some confusion, as the checkpoint is not always well-marked. On the pre-dawn morning we drove to Agra, our driver missed the Delhi-Haryana checkpoint and had to walk back and wake up the officials to pay the toll – a 40-minute delay.

As we drive back north --“up”, in both latitude and altitude—the air seems a bit clearer and cooler, even though the actual temperature is rising, toward noon. The area between Delhi and DehraDun is prime sugarcane territory, so the roads are crowded with various heads and vehicles carrying big loads of sugarcane to the processing plants; we pass by a few chugging outdoor grinding mills producing the large (foot-square) cakes of “jaggery” sugar, and a sweet smell from their smoky boiling fire. We also see a few oxcarts carrying the processed loaves of jaggery.

Buses: the public buses are plentiful and invariably old and dented, with very loud horns that announce their intention to plow forward in spite of any obstacle or oncoming buggy or car. I think the drivers are by and large safe – that is, not purposely dangerous or fast or vindictive. But they are worried that any vehicle may slowdown or stop (as they often do), thus blocking progress. Therefore, one must always try to pass, no matter what the speed or condition.

Some potholes are patched by a crew with an asphalt truck. They top off the patch with a layer of green leaves! Does that help seal the asphalt, or just provide protection to walkers (or oxen feet) that pass while it cools, or just a warning sign to passers by?

We also note areas where the farmers have made (usually, the farmers’ wives and children) have made bowl-shaped patties of cow dung and laid them out in the sun along the roadside, to dry. These are then stacked in cone-shaped piles 2 meters high, covered with thatch; then evidently used for cooking fuel?

It is also surprising to see numerous villages with muslim dress obvious – men in white pajama and caps, and women in full black abayas – a reminder that India has one of the largest muslim populations!

Why are there so many piles of bricks? All along the route, numerous buildings, houses, and construction sites have big piles of red bricks, as if awaiting some tremendous building project. Is this the season for brickmaking? Did the government just provide a subsidy for brickmakers or brick purchasers?

My father would be interested in a description of the cars and vehicles – the trucks are invariably huge unibody (i.e. only a few tractor-trailer combinations) vehicles by Tata; usually seem to be 20 or 30 years old, likely with minimal safety equipents. I never have seen a truck use turn signals. On our ride we saw a dozen various new truck chassis (no bed, no roof, no doors) being driven, evidently to an assembly shop? But a strange site, especially at night. The cars are mostly Japanese styles – i.e. no American styles at all. Hyundai and Skoda each have a portion of the upper-end, with Toyota at the top. We saw several MercedesBenz in Delhi and Agra; but they are rare. The patriotic brand is Tata. Maruti is now part-owned by Suzuki, so their cars are co-branded as “Maruti Suzuki”. Ford is introducing the Fiesta, but it’s got only a small portion of the market. There are a number of Mahindra brand jeeps on the road, as well as very old “Standard” vans that now carry too many people. Another common vehicle in the cities is the “tuk-tuk”, a tricycle powered by motorcycle engine and steering apparatus, with various size of passenger compartments; one variety in Agra is huge, with an old Studebaker-like hood over a tractor-like front wheel-pair. The tuk-tuks almost always smoke badly; but in Delhi, the government has declared that all must be powered by Compressed Natural Gas; same with all their buses – this has apparently reduced the smog somewhat…or, more correctly, kept it from being much worse. The air quality is notably horrible, stinging the eyes. One morning, we could not see India Gate from the President’s House (like the WhiteHouse to Washington Monument).

The road up to Haridwar is occasionally dramatically bad, but generally a wide 2-lane well-asphalted blacktop.
Soon after the turn-off to DehraDun, the terrain changes to gradual hills – we see our first monkeys along the roadside, and the first big hills ahead. The monkeys often seem to just be sitting along the roadside, waiting for food to be thrown from passing cars. And then there’s a big billboard “Let’s Unite India, the All-India Anti-Terrorism Front”.. What’s behind that?

We passed through several cantonments, military property, in Agra, Roorkee, Meerut, and elsewhere. It is invariably well-kept, appropriately spartan. And abbreviated as “Cantt.”

I was irritated by my drivers’ frequent use of the horn and frantic need to pass. We never asked him to hurry, and never placed a time deadline, so there was no need to hurry. I appreciated the very few times that he generously stopped to allow an oxcart or bicycle to cross in front of us. He also did not accelerate or brake excessively (but then, a diesel engine does not have quick acceleration).

I am worried and irritated by drivers’ refusal to wear seat belts unless required by law. Our driver snapped his seat belt on as we crossed the Delhi state line, then unsnapped it when we left. Why be so stupid? If the car is in an accident, I want the driver to be able to recover quickly and steer the car properly. I also don’t want his body flying around the car and hitting me in an accident. What cost is there to wearing a seat belt? All drivers should wear their seat belt, and they should encourage their passengers to sweat seatbelts as well. But especially the driver has an obligation to his passengers and to the owners of the vehicle, to maximize his ability to control the vehicle safely in all circumstances, even in a small accident. He must stay in the seated position all the time anyway (unlike the passengers).

Another cheap safety device would be to turn on the headlights -- especially on a two-lane road, when passing, then oncoming cars can immediately see that you are oncoming, and they have more time to judge your relative speed and distance. If there is no headlight, then it takes more time to judge whether your silhouette represets a parked car or an oncoming car or a car simply going in their same direction. Headlights serve two purposes: to illuminate the way for me, and also to make me more visible to other cars. The sooner they see me, the sooner they have to react to my presence.

Our driver –and many others, it seems—keeps the bright headlights on , “dipping” the lights only to warn vehicles that he’s passing. He seems oblivious to the fact of his lights blinding oncoming drivers, and forward drivers’ mirrors. Also, in situtations like the smoky haze that is endemic to Delhi area, the brighter lights typically reflect back more than they illuminate.

Delhi shopping, film, and return to Woodstock

Friday the 28th we slept in a bit, departing at 9:15 for the Qutb Minar site in south Delhi. This is near the oldest inhabited area, and the Qutb (pole) Minar (tower) is at the site of the oldest mosque, started in the eleven hundreds. The tower is impressively high, with beautiful calligraphic carvings all around its height. The surrounding grounds are nice, with other ruins as well as an impressively-beautiful mausoleum. Entering just before us was a caravan of diplomatic cars, including the Mercedes limo of the Chinese ambassador, license plate “7 CD 1”, with the red flag flying from its left front fender.

The kids were anxious to see a movie in English, so we found a nearby showing of “Legend of Zorro”, opening day. We went to the 12:45 showing, in a thoroughly westernized multiplex cinema, and price to match: Rs150. We enjoyed popcorn and a (chicken) hot dog, and the exciting sanitized story – no blood, but lots of swordplay and explosions… and several chewy onscreen kisses (a married couple, but still quite risque for Indian audiences).

After the film, we allowed the kids to wander around the nearby shops. The “Saket” neighborhood resembled an 1970’s planned shopping area, with high-rise concrete apartment blocks, and a few now-empty fountains. The area is disappointingly decrepit, though most shops are quite nice – several franchise restaurants, including Bennigan’s Restaurant and McDonalds, and several athletic shoe shops and book and music stores, but no food or good clothing stores.

We then drove to another shopping area, even older – Defence Colony, where expatriates had long been housed: Several nice restaurants, and dozens of small shops and general stores, but no large modernized store. But, I found boxes of imported Rice Krispies and Cheez-Its, for Chris and Cole – again, outrageously expensive even by American standards (Rs355 and Rs201), but a very special treat for them. The students were a bit cranky and tired, surprisingly not wanting to window-shop. We allowed the two Bhutanese boys to take a cab to the Bhutan embassy to meet some relatives (and recharge their wallets!), then meet us at our next stop.

We drove then to India Habitat Centre, a large complex of brick buildings surrounding a center atrium. They offer rooms, offices, conference areas, art exhibits, and restaurants for meetings, including the lecture hall where we viewed a documentary film about peasants from Allahabad who eke out a living by collecting waste oil from Delhi drains (then selling it to small-scale illegal recycling factories). A panel discussion followed, and we hope the students’ social consciousness was a bit raised by the event – a few students even asked questions! There were perhaps 40 other people in the audience, mostly sympathetic adults, and a couple of inarticulate college students, and the 4 small children of a panelist.

On Saturday the 29th, we departed Delhi at 9:30, arrived DehraDun at 4pm, with an hour stop for lunch at Cheetal Restaurant. Actually the worst traffic was in DehraDun, as there are only small 2-lane roads in and out of this million-inhabitant city, jammed with dusty shops lining either side. North of Dehra Dun, into the hills on the old Mussoorie road, is the large house of 2 Woodstock students and their multi-generational family. They invited us to stop for “tea”. We then made it back to the dorms by 7pm, well after dark.

Delhi Supreme Court, and Agra Taj Mahal

Princess Bhuvanesh Kumari is a Woodstock alumna, class of 1950. She grew up in the maharajah’s palace in Patiala, in Punjab state. After Woodstock, she proceeded to earn a legal degree in England, returning to practice law in India, then admitted to practice in the Supreme Court as well. She says she prefers to write the arguments rather than debating in court.

Wednesday, Princess Bhuvanesh Kumari met us at the Y; we drove to the parliament building. Security is exceptionally tight there since the brazen daylight attack on it two years ago by Kashmiri terrorists. So our vehicles could not enter the grounds. [ed. Note: “The Week” magazine just reported that the Home Minister invited some leftist party dignitaries for a meeting to encourage them to rejoin the ruling coalition; but he neglected to get permission for their vehicles to enter the parking lot, so the guards turned them away…coalition talks will proceed, after abject apologies. Was it an intentional oversight?] We also cooled our heels in the rather nice reception building for 40 minutes; I took the opportunity to wander about, and found an obscurely located souvenir shop with parliamentary books – I ordered 6 books for our library (I figured they would not be otherwise available, and would provide our Indian Government students with some primary source/reference material),, including a book title “Unparliamentary Expressions” and a glossary of English idioms (that would help the eloquent parliamentarian seeking just the right expression to impress his colleagues; and the other book would keep him from saying anything unparliamentary. The shop also sells pens and teacups and cards emprinted with the distinctive logo of the parliament.

The parliament is a huge round stone building – thus the distinctive logo. We toured the lower house “Lok Sabha”, with its 552 seats (including 2 seats reserved for the Anglo-Indian community); the upper house “Rajya Sabha” with 250 seats, and the President’s Room with over 800 seats and much less formal, intended for joint sessions that take place at least 3 times a year. The guide also showed us the member’s reading room, and the neighboring fancy new building with a beautiful advanced library and auditorium, worthy of the World’s Largest Democracy. The parliament building itself is grand but fusty… the same could be said of the Supreme Court, even more so, as it is filled with hallways and warrens and clerks and lawyers -- we had the good fortune to be escorted by Princess Bhuvanesh, who has privileges to argue cases there – she wore her official robes to escort us; and she scolded the security guard for his rudeness to us when our kids innocently brought cameras through the checkpoint.

We sat in a hearing room – the Supreme Court has 26 judges, with 10 courtrooms where various sets of judges hear and decide cases. Our room had a 3-judge panel hearing some minor employment cases. One judge was entertainingly curt with the lawyers, berating them for lack of preparation.

This is the last week of the session, and the court has issued opinions in some big cases recently: one involving a child-custody situation where the child is in New York with her father; but the maternal grandfather (who happens to be a retired state governor) is seeking custody because of the mysterious death of the mother. The Supreme Court here grants custody to the grandfather, and asks the government to seek a diplomatic solution because the New York court has granted custody to the father. More importantly the court recently reprimanded the government for holding on to the property of a maharajah’s family, and for allowing dozens of officials to live rent-free in govt. housing, beyond their official entitlement. The newspaper published photos of several prominent scofflaws and their nice houses!

She then took us to the court’s museum building, a rather sparse exhibit that strives to prove the glorious long tradition of justice in India – though almost all of its current institutions date from the British times.

We drove then to the American Center – what used to be known as the USIA, then USIS, and now the ARIC – American Resources Information Center. It has evolved into a simple library: a reading room for the public, and a subscription lbirary for borrowers. They also offer filmshows and meeting rooms for members. The Woodstock principal has a membership,we discover – but the school should be an institutional member as well – I hope to remedy that soon.

By 5pm we drove back to the Y, and let the students have free time for dinner – Miss Chander and I drove to Berco’s Chinese restaurant, in Connaught Place, block E – a little expensive total bill, but very nice restful atmosphere and very pleasant service. The food was allright, though I forgot my rule of thumb in Indian cuisine: always ask for “not-spicy” dishes. Even the dish that the manager characterized as not very spicy ended up being unpleasantly hot after my bowl of Thai soup with chilies. What a wimp!

27 October, Thursday
The front desk phoned at 4:30a.m., to wake me up for our 5am departure for Agra. The four girls were ready to go at 5, but the 6 boys just woke up at 5! A few minutes later, we drove off in the pre-dawn darkness. What a cool pleasure to drive the Delhi streets with no traffic – because many of the intersections are (British-style) roundabouts, there are few traffic signals to slow you down. The road to Agra is mostly quite good four-lane divided highway, recently paved. The driver would occasionally reach 120kph, rather wild, given that most of the road also has camel-drawn or horse-drawn or ox-carts, or tractors pulling huge loads of bricks; periodically peasants cross the road carry bundles of wood, or water jugs. Our driver still lays a heavy hand on the horn, and seems especially wary of intersections and potholes.

The air is thick with haze, from the heat and dust and smoke. In October, the mid-day hours are still blazing hot. I cannot imagine living through a summer here, especially without air-conditioning. It seems quite an inhospitable place to build a city – perhaps a mausoleum is more appropriate? We visit three mausoleum sites today: Akbar’s, the Taj mahal, and Itm-ad-daula.
All are spectacular constructions, well-preserved (though actually restored 100 years ago to a considerable extent.

The Taj Mahal is of course stunning, but the surrounding maze of hawkers and touts and dirt is awful. The lack of signage places tourists (both local and foreign) at the mercy of the semi-official guides.
Today the majority of the tourists are local – that is, Indian citizens viewing their patrimony. Warning: everything sold outside the Taj is highly and easily negotiable: the guides have cards noting that the price is Rs375. We quickly agreed on Rs50 for one guide’s service for the hour. Try to ignore the incessant sales pitches and plow ahead to the front gate, and pay the special foreigner price… the government apparently decided to price all archeological sites at par for the tourists. That is, 5 rupees for Indian citizens; 5 dollars for foreigners. At the Taj, it’s 20/20 (in practice, Rs20 for the locals; Rs750 for others). But the foreigner’s price gets you a free bottle of water, and some paper booties for your shoes, so you don’t have to run the shoe-locker gauntlet before entering the sanctuary. Security is again tight – they do not allow any electronic devices on the property, except for cameras. Leave them in your car. Note also that there is a moderately-priced restaurant on the grounds, next to the souvenir shop that the guides will steer you to. Those marble inlay products are gorgeous, but expensive.

Again, the Taj and its several accompanying buildings are spectacular, but the crowds and the accompanying dirt and sales pitches makes the experience unpleasant.

Far better is the Itm-ad-dullah, the tomb of the Taj builder’s grandparents – it is off the beaten track, on the opposite side of the Yamuna River – we found only a few visitors there, and only one mild photo-seller. The building is smaller, but the stonework is elaborate and all the more beautiful because of its accessibility. A patio overlooking the river would be a most pleasant place to while away a few hours.

Departing hot and dusty and crowded Agra by 4pm, we hit the road, and stop at… McDonald’s, modeled after the big highway rest stops (except that there’s no play room), with even a Drive-Thru window! Also, the fast-food franchises in India typically play loud pop music. And there’s a substantial vegetarian menu, not just a Veggie Burger – a potato patty burger, and a cheese-cube wrap and a veggie cheese pizza puff. And no apple pie. And, umm, no beef. Fish and chicken, no problem. But McDonald’s does not include the usual beef-like substitute of lamb. You were wondering about the prices? Roughly equivalent, using my practical exchange rate. But for the American tourist, it’s cheap.

The heat saps our energy, producing an exhausted group of Woodstock teachers and students. We get back to the Y at 8:30, tell the kids they should stay on the grounds – most order pizza delivered. I took the opportunity to shower, then walk up the street to the Park Hotel—a world of difference! Though not quite as cool or iinviting as I had expected. The maitre d’ was friendly when I asked for a beer and snack – he ushered me through the restaurant to the bar. It was, again, modern, but not very cool or inviting, and the prices were easily the same as (in my recent experience) an urban chic hotel in Washington DC…even using the official rate of exchange! I passed it up, though not before finding that the youthful maitre d’ comes from Nainital, the “other” popular hill station in Uttaranchal state.

I walked on up the block to the Kwality Restaurant, the old standby for expatriates. It was founded soon after world war II to serve American Gis, and survived through the Socialist Non-Aligned years. A cold glass of Kingfisher beer and some delicious mutton broth refreshed me for a good night’s sleep.

Woodstock ActivityWeek in Delhi - A

Being a journal of JT's thoughts on activity week...part 1 of 4:

First, the introductions:
Woodstock Activity Week is one week in the middle of the fall semester, when regular school studies cease, and the older students go off-campus for the week for various educational and recreational activities. Grades 5-8 depart for four nights away, in grade-specific groupings; Grades 9-12 go away for 6 nights, Sunday-Saturday. Grade 9 lives in a village, taking hikes and doing a work project with the villagers. Most of the activities are related to mountain hiking. I joined an 11th-grade trip to visit historical sites in Delhi, 23-29 October 2005.
Miss Shonila Chander and I escorted ten Grade-11 students in two cars to Delhi… about 8 hours in the car, getting there. Fortunately, October is merely “hot” in the plains, so the ride was bearable, though the road was incredibly variable in every way, in width and quality and crowding. Our drivers made liberal use of the horn and seem to regard every vehicle in front of us as a potential obstacle to be passed – and yet, they are extremely cautious about potholes or speedbumps.
Rules of this road seem to dictate that a horn-honk indicates intention to pass.

Monday morning we drove to the President’s House (Rashtrapati Bhavan), originally built as the imposing residence of the British colonial governor-general. Some recent Woodstock students are related to the President’s financial secretary, so she arranged for a private tour of the building, its 3 small museums, ballroom, dining room, throne room (where medals are awarded now). But first, on the drive there, all traffic was stopped because the President had just completed a ceremony with the visiting Prime Minister of Mauritius – we were wondering about those 4-stripe flags on each streetlight, paired with the India tricolor. [and, the next day, I note in the newspaper that India’s Navy has agreed to help Mauritius map and sound its coastline and ports, all modified by last year’s tsunami…a magnanimous gesture that also helps solidify India’s dominating military presence in the Indian Ocean.] The President’s House, and all the majestic buildings around it, are truly worthy of a great power. Security was obvious, with army guards omnipresent, and occasionally the nicely-dressed presidential guard as well. Our names had previously been vetted, so we merely had to pass through a cursory metal-detector screening. Then, because of our official connection, we had an official photograph taken of the group:
We are staying at the YWCA International Guest House – there are evidently 4 different “Y” places to stay, with slightly different names – on Sansad Marg (Parliament Street), next to the central Y-offices and an apparently-related “Free Church”, next to the Jantar Mantar and near the main center of Connaught Place.

The rooms are quite spartan but quite clean and spacious. The shower is a bit sparse, but – if I remember to turn on the power – there’s plenty of hot water. And we’ve not seen any of the reported power outages apparently suffered by Delhi-ites recently, a problem that threatened to oust the Chief Minister (governor of the capital district) Sheila Dixit.
The bed and pillow are hard, but sufficient, as we’re all tired from the day’s touring and walking.

The kids are remarkably sweet and helpful and respectful and childlike and eager to burst away and occasionally eager to learn. They easily divide into national groupings:

The boys: Rubi and Varun are the local kids, born and raised in North India, at Woodstock for many years – they’re the outgoing funloving funseeking ones who also are on academic probation. Their friend Naweed is the school’s only Bangladeshi – his knee injury keeps him from too much rambunctiousness. Kinley and Kezang are from Bhutan (though Kezang knows Hindi well). Suparoek is from Thailand, goes by his nickname “Boom”, and is generally shy as he does not know Hindi at all, and his English is not as fluent as any of the others.

The girls: All are perfectly fluent American-english speakers and writers: Katie and Bhargavi are American citizens. Katie is on the junior-year-abroad program, from New York, with lots of other international experience, but generally quiet –yet the fact that she is big and blond draws attention here. Bhargavi, though she was born in Hyderabad, acts and talks like a high school girl from the DC suburbs where her family now lives. Mhabeni and Priya have the elegance of local finishing schools, which, combined with their knowledgeable and inquiring minds, will take them far.

The kids want to visit every fast-food chain possible. Last night we walked to the well-known (and inexpensive) Saravana Bhavan restaurant, famous for its Southern cuisine—the kids eagerly went to the nearby Pizza Hut instead, leaving us escorts to enjoy the national cuisine. Tuesday night they were so happy when we found out that the planned Kashmiri cuisine would be too expensive (their whole day’s Rs300), so we took them to Subway instead!

They all have writing journals to keep – I wrote each student’s name on the cover… and we will check them on Wednesday night, after the day of parliament and supreme court visits...

Notes from Barbara

The monsoon season is really over - the days are sunny and brisk, the nights are cold. We bought firewood yesterday for the stove in the entry/dining room, several electric heaters for the upstairs bedrooms, and a gas heater for the living room. There is no central heating in the school at all; hence it closes down during the coldest part of the winter - mid-December to early February. We will finally get away from the campus (we've only been down the mountain once since we arrived in July) to the Portugese beach town of Goa with many of the school staff.

I am pretty tired and ready for a break now - it is grueling work in a boarding school. We teach a full day, have meetings and activities after school, and weekend activities with the boarding students, as well. I should have done this years ago when I was younger! The boys are enjoying the independence, as Jeff and I are often too busy to accompany them to all their activities. They join right in with the boarders and are looked after by the dorm parents. The music and sports programs have kept them both busy before and after school, and the school work is challenging, especially in math and science.

We would love visitors - the ideal time is in the spring before the monsoon starts again in June. It is beautiful forested country - you will get in shape quickly just hiking to and from the buildings nestled on the mountainside. I walk the equivalent of 30 minutes on the stairmaster just going up the hillside from my house to school each day.

Path from House to School

A picture walk from our house, called Sunnywood, up the hill to the school.
First, at the entrance to our property -- it has a small fence around most of it, with a 30-foot cliff on one side, evidently hacked out of the mountain to make room for the house.
The metal sign is a bit rusty -- I painted over the black letters; and plan to (some day) repaint the white background as well!

Barb's hiking up the 50+ steps to "New Road" -- the red roof in the background is our house.

When we turn to look up the hill, from New Road, we can see part of the main school building way up there.

Starting up the many more steps , from New Road up to Tehri Road, past the house called Doshisha (that means 2 Mirrors in Hindi, evidently so called because it is a duplex. ), that is a well-known landmark to the taxi drivers.
Two other Woodstock staff families live there.

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The last big set of steps -- we see the diesel generator at the top of the hill, just outside the back gate. That generator keeps us lit, when the municipal electric supply fails (regularly).

And then we arrive at the school through the back entrance, into the Quad.