If you are a cyclist in Delhi, the first lesson you learn is that you are responsible for your own safety. Bicyclists are so beneath motorists’ notice in this city that they are nearly invisible—unless they are hit by one. As I discovered the other day when a car suddenly pulled out of a side lane and stopped right in front of my bike. Shaken and badly bruised, I picked myself and my cycle up, ruefully examining its bent wheel. But if I expected sympathy or apology from the motorist, whose fault this entire episode was, I was disabused of the notion fast. Not only did the man start raining abuses on me, he departed screaming, "You bloody cyclists make life impossible for us!"
Bloody cyclists indeed. There is no place for a cyclist on a road where hurtling Bluelines compete with each other for every inch of available space or autorickshaws snake dangerously in and out of lanes. No car will ever slow down for a cyclist to change lanes safely. And there is always a lot of angry honking behind a cyclist from impatient drivers.
The indifference of the road users is matched by that of urban planners. Posh venues such as five-star hotels provide no space for cyclists. "You’d think that a place such as the Habitat Centre, with its activist reputation, would be more considerate," remarks Jhala. "The entrance for cyclists is through a service lane, where the garbage is stacked."
Jhala has noticed the contempt for cyclists grow in the four decades since he’s been cycling, and says this has been bred by changing values, where respect for simple living has vanished.
It didn’t, however, stop editor Anita Roy from becoming an enthusiastic, born-again cyclist. "I’ve just sold my car to the neighbourhood sabziwallah—it was so liberating!" she says. Her neighbours were nonplussed. "They could not understand why I wouldn’t have a car when I could afford to," she says.
But while status might be negotiable, sweat isn’t. The Danes and the Dutch, the most cycle-friendly people, might look all the more attractive with a sheen of perspiration on them, but they don’t have to deal with the Delhi summer. Gaurav and Simon carry a change of clothes to work, and have access to a shower, but not all of us do. Recently, with an appointment scheduled at the ministry of defence, I faced the daunting prospect of pedalling furiously up Raisina Hill and arriving at the meeting with sweat pouring off me. I decided to leave my cycle at home that day. A pity, though, because Delhi is one of the greenest cities with a lot of shade for cyclists. "It’s all there," Simon says. "All Delhi needs to do is make intelligent use of it."
What he does hope for meanwhile is a street map of Delhi that cyclists like him could consult. For, the cyclists’ survival kit includes knowing which roads to avoid. "After a while," says Gaurav, "you figure out all the bylanes and alleys. They are much, much safer than the main roads. And quicker too."
So, is there hope yet? One wonders. Kate laughs and recalls a rally organised by the Delhi Cycling Club recently to promote green awareness. "All these alleged environmentalists turned up in their Scorpios and pulled out their bicycles from the back. Not one of them had cycled there!"
