Skip to main content

The moron of morons on Indian roads - nominations

Our roads aren’t complete with the numerous morons that dot them and ensure early onset heart disease and shorter life spans. So here are the nominations for the Indian road moron hall of fame:

1. Yo man dude: Yo dude is of the belief that he is god’s gift to women. Never mind that she is seated in a BMW, he believes that he can sweep her off the uber comfy seats and ride away with her into the smog filled sunset. Hence he accelerates and tries to catch her attention. Hence he goes from 0 - 60 in 15 seconds, only to come to a screeching halt at the next signal. Moreover, yo man dude doesn’t find it stupid to attempt a wheelie in the middle of a busy road, jeopardizing the lives of others. May he find an attractive nurse to wrap bandages on him when he ends up strapped to a hospital bed. In the same vein, we don’t wish him a speedy recovery.

2. The wanker honker: You cannot escape this species, however hard you try. It is their second nature to have their hand on the horn, even when the signal is red. Even when the traffic isn’t moving an inch. Even when there is no vehicle remotely in sight. Even when they are parked.Even when the honk stops working.




3. Ibiza on wheels: For some reason, you would think these people can afford to go to a disc and shell out hard cash to listen to blaring music that drowns out conversation and the ethanol that drowns sorrows. Alas, these folks of good means seem to presume that the rest of their world shares their fine taste, causing them to speed down roads in machines that vibrate. They hope some pretty woman will find them to be charming and ask for a ride. If so, it would definitely be a blonde.

4. Cell guru: This breed is unique in the sense that all of us have inadvertently fallen into this category. Cell guru can keep traffic waiting to finish or receive a call. Cell guru leads a life where a missed call is simply unacceptable. For with cell guru, you are always in the queue.





5. Rebel without a sense of direction: This breed can surprise you. For in India, you have to look both ways before crossing a one way. They don’t think it alarming or out of place to go in the wrong direction on a one way. Maybe they think they are ambulances. Hopefully, they find themselves in one and can legally go in the wrong direction.

6. Auto uncles: Some might say they automatically qualify for the award. Still, when seen from afar, some of the others too can be deemed as worthy competitors for the throne. What is there to say about this breed that hasn’t already been said? We hope that the metro will cause the number of autos to reduce by one and a half. Or better, by double.

7. The non-differentiators:These morons have inherited moronic genes from their moronic ancestors and have serious comprehension issues. Imagine making them take an eye test. But with a difference. Show them a footpath and a road and ask them to spot the difference. Chances are they’ll mix them up. Which is why they speed on footpaths and have the gall to honk at defenceless pedestrians. Which is why an MRI on their brains will reveal half developed ones. Which is why they’ll never get it.

8. The nostalgic: These people are stuck in a time warp and believe that they are still in the 1970’s when there wasn’t much traffic and you could calmly drive at 15 km/hr. Which is what they do even in peak hour traffic when the person behind is honking asking for way, they will still drive at the same placid pace. While they are enjoying the benefits of going slow, we hope all those who have the misfortune of being stuck behind them have health insure to cover their bypasses.


And thus ends the first round of nominations. As experiences are varied, this is an interactive post. Feel free to make more suggestions. At the same time cast your vote. One lucky winner will be amply rewarded with a pair of ear plugs.




Comments

Popular posts from this blog

When an Iyer met an Iyengar

If you see my parents, they look like the quintessential arranged marriage couple. After nearly 35 years together, they still take care not to touch each other while posing for a photograph and my mother’s smile dangles precariously between a smile and a grimace. But this image discolours the truth a tad. Some 40 years back, they met at work, fell in love and got married. The talking point of the union being mom’s status as an iyengar and dad’s as an iyer. Simply put, the iyers and the iyengars are two castes of the Brahmin community, each, when given the chance, profess superiority to each other on all counts. If you listen closely, an Iyengar talking about an Iyer will say ‘Iyer a?’ in a condescending tone. And vice versa. Mom tells me that when she told her dad about the marriage, he vowed to stand by her at any cost. Dad never told me what happened, but allow me to hazard a guess. His mother (my grandmother), threatened to go on a fast unto death. My dad threatened to go ...

The sculptor and the stone cutter

  A story is told of two bricklayers laying brick on an afternoon when one wished the sun would scurry back behind the clouds and offer a smattering of respite. This very ordinary scene caused curiosity to get the better of a passerby in search of conversation. As the story goes, a question was posed to each as to what they were building. One replied he was merely laying brick. The other said he was laying the foundation for a cathedral. Ostensibly, the purpose of this story being recounted time and again is to get us to look at dreary tasks with a sense of reverence. And maybe, just maybe, they can turn into a masterpiece. Maybe this zealous approach is the distinction between the humdrum existence of a journeyman and that of an enchanter, who in Jack Kerouac’s words, makes everybody go ‘aaawww’. Which is why there are such few masterpieces, be it a song, a book, a movie, or a sportsperson making the field his stage, keeping an audience of a million glued to...

Meet Ronnie

Doctors are a strange lot. I should know, being a sibling to one. Most of us spend our education and subsequently, our lives, chasing elusive rainbows. Our formative years are spent willing the clock to move faster and for classes to get over. Medical students spend their formative years cutting open human bodies (the dead ones) and one fine day, graduate to cutting open live ones. It was this strange fortune of having my elder sister choose medicine as a career that introduced me to Ronnie.  As a part of their learning, medical students are supposed to go to a designated store near their college and buy a very unique set. This very unique set consists of a skull and a few bones. They then sit in class, hold the skull in their hands, and listen to their lecturer explain to them about the  neurocranium   and the  viscerocranium.   Cutting cadavers, it may be presumed, is slightly more complicated and cannot be delved into with the same  hilarit...