By and large we bikers are a friendly lot. Whether your mount is a mighty multivalve or a more modest commuter scooter, you can pretty much guarantee a friendly nod at the traffic lights from the other biker who pulls up next to you. And no party is complete without a bikers’ corner where young and old can swop tall tales of broken camshafts or dodgy dealers.
In the UK, we go out of our way to include the outsiders with modest claims of our own incompetence, self deprecating jokes about our preferred manufacturer and tales of how we broke down on the Hatfield bypass…all intended to make the other guy feel part of the club. Out on the road too, there are plenty of fraternal nods of acknowledgement, waves of the foot, flashing of headlights and so on as we all try to help our fellow bikers survive against the common enemy: those bastards behind the wheel.
All it takes to join this club is possession of two motorised wheels (for some reason our warmth rarely extends to include cyclists who, of course, have their own equally exclusive fraternity).
Not in India. There’s an estimated 40million riders here, the highest number in the world and only just behind the number of car drivers. So, for much of the time, bikers outnumber cars and lorries. Hurrah! At last we get to rule the world. Up to a point Lord Copper. Because, for reasons that continue to elude me, there appears to be no fraternal feeling among bikers in India. I have seen virtually none of the usual signals of acknowledgement that are commonplace when riding in Europe. No little nods of hello, no waving through, no raised finger of thanks.
Instead, I have to report, everyone is out for himself (and it is almost universally men in the saddle here). If there’s a space, they dive into it, even if it means cutting someone else up. In the UK I try to leave at least a two second gap in front of me for braking. Here every inch counts so that little safety zone can be and is filled very quickly. Nature abhors a vacuum and so do the road users in this overcrowded country.
Is this a case of just looking after number 1? The nearest equivalent I’ve seen is in Paris, where scooters are also de rigeur for the would-be commuter and where every little corner is jam packed. However I’m sure that there are rules there which even the most individualist frenchman will obey in the end. Here, I have yet to work out what the ‘rules’ are. There appears to be a ‘priorité a gauche’ as well as ‘a droite’, i.e. drivers join a main road from either side without bothering to see what’s already on it. Similarly those coming on to a roundabout or junction seem to feel that they can do so without regard for those already there. And bus drivers just head down the middle with their hands on the horn…
Whatever the rules, it’s worth noting that all this happens without any of the shouting, raised blood pressure or general aggro that would flare in seconds elsewhere. The Indians are amazingly laid back and short on the ego that seems to drive so many road rage incidents in the west. I have mentioned elsewhere how they use the horn more as a means of communication than as an extension of their personality.
Just for a laugh here’s some pics of what happens on the small ferry in Port Cochin. The bikers ride on last so they have to load facing the back. But when the ferry gets to the other side, instead of waiting to ride round the loop at the end, as soon as there’s a hint of any space, they all start manoeuvring their bikes to save a couple of seconds, even if that means blocking the remaining cars from unloading. There’s lots of hooting but, actually, very few displays of frustration or annoyance - it’s just the way things are done here.
Try that next time you’re on P&O and see what the other drivers think of you!
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