Great Indian Road Trick

Let me explain what a prime ministerial cavalcade is all about. It is like the Great Wall of China, only longer 8212; comprising some 100 distinct, movable parts. Including sundry pilot cars; ambulances; FUVs, or family utility vehicles; jammers, which render all cyber communication in the vicinity null and void; and some 50-odd vehicles bearing security men who appear to have served in the battalions of Attila the Hun and were dismissed for bad behaviour.

All this, besides the discreetly curtained limousine of the Great One. And, yes, while the Great Wall is known to be stationary, this one shoots past at some 300 km per hour through the city in 8216;peak traffic conditions8217;, which is jargon for periods when Delhi8217;s 30 million vehicles are out on the streets at the same time.

Now, whatever you do, do not 8212; I repeat DO NOT 8212; not if you love your life and family, attempt to run into, take on, or otherwise engage with these cavalcades. On at least three occasions over the past one month, hapless Delhi motorists, blinded by the fog or generally distracted, have had close encounters with the prime ministerial procession and ended up feeling as if some 100 elephants have walked over them.

And, who knows, there may have been several others whose cases have not surfaced in the public sphere chiefly because the ex-Attila Hun brigade has settled their hash, not to speak of pulverising their spinal columns and stripping them of their internal organs.

So how do we know that these cavalcades are on the loose? Well, we watch the bird life in the vicinity. The moment clouds of pigeons rise in calibrated frenzy some 30 km due south, we get early intimation of VVIP movement. Pretty soon, we come across unassailable evidence.

Police personnel, who appeared to have been on French leave when we really needed them to sort out traffic snarls 8212; which in Delhi means motorists snarling at each other in a traffic jam as thick as banana jelly 8212; suddenly appear in their best uniforms, whistling furiously.

Go a little further and you8217;ll soon encounter a scene right out of Madame Tussaud8217;s 8212; motorists who having been rendered stationary for such great lengths of time while waiting for the caravan to move on, that they all seem to have turned into frozen pomfrets.

If the weather happens to be warmer, you may even discern cobwebs threading their way from noses to steering wheels. Often, when the time comes for the Delhi Police to finally signal you on, it has to send in its bulldozers to clear the road of immobile vehicles, whose drivers have died of starvation while waiting to go home for dinner. Sometimes, though, the wailing sirens 8212; mandatory acoustics for VVIP cavalcades 8212; are of such a register that many on the verge of lapsing into a permanent coma are jerked into animation, even if they end up with busted eardrums.

Is there a solution, you may ask, to this dilemma confronting the ordinary resident in an extraordinary city? I have two. Why can8217;t they come up with a sky lift system to transport the very, very important bodies? If that is not possible, they should pass legislation banning presidential and prime ministerial movement for security reasons.

Let them stay where they are and we can always come to them should we need to, or wave to them when they appear on TV. In any case, ours is a virtual government, so what8217;s wrong with having virtual netas to match?

Write to pamelaphiliposeexpressindia.com