I'm on a ramp to nowhere

I'm on a ramp to nowhere

As I'm prone to do, I spent yesterday geeking out over Delhi's many public transportation opportunities. I rode the Metro to the end of the line and back to peruse the various stations. I was prepared to act like a dumb tourist and pretend that I got off at the wrong stop if need be, but there was no need.

On my joyride, I saw many groups of indians crammed into elevators. I saw many people following the detectable warning tactile guides from the Metro entrance to the boarding platforms. I saw many people reading the station and destination information as it flashed over the LED display screens simultaneously in hindi (amber) and english (green). I saw seating and space on the vehicles reserved for the "old and physically challenged." I did not however, see ANY people with disabilities.

The system is cheap (6 to 12 rupies per ride depending on the destination) so as far as I could tell it was a mixed demographic. People from different classes, religions, occupations and economic stratas peacefully sitting together in air-conditioned, space-aged comfort.

While I'm impressed, I know that countless people have been displaced to make way for Metro stations and rail rights of way. The DMRC is not as huge an entity as the Indian Railways Corporation, but from what I've read on my Delhi Urban Planning mailing list it is equally ruthless in commandeering real estate. It is the specialty of governments everywhere, but indian beaurocracies are hyper-efficient at steamrolling the rights* and needs of the little guy. You see and hear about this happening all the time - from urban Mall developers erasing slum villages to hydroelectric facilities submerging whole rural indigenous communities.

I've also been relying on the Delhi bus much more often than in previous travels. I pay 7 rupies for a 40 minute to hour and a half ride from where I stay to the approximate heart of the city. The catch is that I have to stand the whole way and the vehicle is completely full. It is unfortunate, as the buses are designed for people much shorter than I, so I can only see the street surface and adjacent traffic not the actual surroundings as we make our way into the citay.

Last night I was surrounded by 6 women - each one 4 feet tall and wrapped in a brilliantly colored sari. They fit the profile of many of the slum dwellers and street folks that work intersections in groups for alms. They usually have a sleeping (or wailing) child or two in tow. I used to think that they were bangladeshis because of the darkeness of their skin, but they could be from any rural district. When you see them on the streets, they give you the eye, then attach themselves to your vehicle while gesturing to their mouths and chanting "Baby hungry! Baby hungry! Chapatti! Chapatti!"

On the bus, they were without children. Other riders warily watched as they encircled me. Without my knowledge or permission, they opened up my backpack and dug around. All the while the bus conductor tried to convince them to pay their fare. Luckily I wasn't holding anything of value in my bag or in my pockets. They realized I was of no value and immediately set their saris dragging through the sea of people in the aisle and hanging from the ceiling bars to the front of the bus where they hopped off.

With high drama like this to entertain me, how could I ever think of taking the autorickshaw again?

* Of course the peoples of downtroden and backward castes have no rights.