Mysore pak on the roads of Udupi

Udupi Diaries – 4

I recently read an article in some business magazine which stated that the world car market has reported a severe fall in sales due to the Covid 19. Whoever wrote this has got to be joking, right? The article is bursting at the seams with facts and figures, pie charts and the full works but I’m not buying any of that. I mean, it’s obvious the poor guy hasn’t been to Udupi recently. Well, I have, and I tell you … the streets of Udupi are practically clogged with vehicles of all shapes and sizes, and I have it from reliable sources that our Udupikars buy their cars from the regular car market and do not grow them in their back yards like their coconuts and jackfruits.

Udupi used to be called a quiet, sleepy temple town not so long ago. Temple town – yes, but quiet and sleepy – no more! The city is awake and kicking and I went giddy trying to negotiate through the circus on the streets. The day after I landed in Udupi, I informed everyone I needed to go out and I would be taking my car. And I did. I went roaring like a tiger and came back mewling like a scared kitten. 

Me and my humble little Maruti Alto stood no chance in front of those, big, tough and branded beasts on the roads of Udupi these days. They whizzed by me, horns blaring, drivers swearing, almost scraping the paint off my poor car in their hurry to get to wherever they were going and stap me if I didn’t meet them all again at the next traffic signal! So, what was the rush all about?

A few minutes later, the mystery was solved. Everybody was in a race to get to empty parking slots which are as extinct as the dinosaur these days. So, by the time I creeped into mid-town all the spaces were taken, and the unlucky seconds were trying to edge their vehicles in sideways through whatever space they could get in between, quite like trying to fit in as many pieces of Mysore Pak as possible, into a small sweet-box during Diwali! 

As I cruised by, I spotted a space ahead which appeared to be miraculously empty and hardly daring to breathe, I dashed towards it. But hey presto … the space was empty of cars because it was already occupied by a pothole as big as the Aitken Basin, which, by the way is the largest crater on the moon.

Finally, I parked the car about a kilometer away from the main town and walked around for my errands in the hot sun, returning home tired, sweating, in a foul mood, and to cap it all – with a deep tan; something the Europeans get, by simply lying on the beach in bare essentials, the whole day!

However, I got my revenge later in the evening as I watched an ambitious owner of a huge BMW trying to negotiate through the narrow lanes of our area. Most lanes in Udupi are optimistically termed as roads, but they happen to be just a strip of pathway donated reluctantly by plot owners on either side and are a challenge for any vehicle which has more than two wheels. I stood respectfully to one side as the BMW tried to take a steep curve and got stuck halfway through. The car and its owner went back and forth delicately – stuck between a formidable compound wall in front and a deep valley (read – gutter) behind. I did my Good Samaritan bit and waved my arms around to help guide him, but it appeared to only confuse him further, so I left him at it. 

Apparently, driving lessons in Udupi now include simulation sessions too these days. Maybe they should try introducing a few classes on learning how to fit in and remove slices of Mysore Pak into small sweet-boxes without breaking the delicate pieces! Might help stimulate some sense of discipline and a think-about-the-others attitude in the owners of those monsters on the roads!