By Surabhi Pudasaini
The idea of organic conversations and collaborations across Southasian borders is a warm and fuzzy one. The reality, however, is far colder, with such exchanges uncommon. (more…)
Honking is a passion with all Kathmandu drivers. Whether driving down a relatively open road, waiting at a red light or stuck in yet another tyre-burning protest, the orchestra of toots and beeps are always improvising a grating background score. It is frustrating, aggravating and very rant-worthy. (On the positive side, it does make a great filler during awkward conversations.) But even the most fanatical honk-haters must empathise a little with Kathmandu drivers. It is complete anarchy out there. And honking – think short repeated bursts followed by a few long beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeps – must be therapeutic.
The thing is everybody on the roads – drivers, pedestrians, probably even the stray dogs -are frustrated. The biggest problem is the obvious one: our single-lane gallis from way-back-when are completely ill-equipped to service the explosion of people, cars and motorbikes that has taken place in the city over the last decade. That there is almost no enforcement of traffic regulations doesn’t help either. Let’s not even talk about how nightmarish it’s going to be in 20 years, when there will be a great many more horns on the roads.
Indulging in optimism, the good thing is that people are talking about what can be done. For instance, there was this article in the Kathmandu Post recently about how bicycle-friendly Kathmandu’s rather small city limits are. Already, there are an impressive number of bicycles on the streets, especially considering that getting bullied onto the pavement by the entire range of vehicles from trucks to motorbikes is not enjoyable. Build bicycle lanes inside the ring road and it’ll relieve some of the pressure on the Valley roads, not to mention reduce our carbon footprint.
Far easier than building bicycle lines – though this should be done too – would be tweaking Kathmandu’s greatly underappreciated mass transport system. Between the government buses and the privately owned micro vans and electric tempos, public transportation gets you pretty much anywhere within the ring road, and a great many places outside. And as much as cars and especially two wheelers have become must-haves for those who can afford them, there are far more Kathmanduites who can’t afford them. They ride on public transportation.
While the mass transit network is impressive in coverage, it is terrible in other aspects. First, people are packed in unimaginable tight, limbs squeezed into every available inch of space. It’s a perv’s paradise in there. Clearly, there are not enough vehicles. Second, figuring out the pick-up and drop-off points is a daily exercise in cunning. For instance, between Ratna Park, where most of the micros start from, and Pulchowk, about four km away, there are only two officially designated stop points. Clearly, this is not practical. So it simply doesn’t work that way. Everybody who rides on the micros along that route knows the other points where the drivers usually stop. The problem is the traffic cops – occasionally, when they happen to be around and the fancy strikes them – fine the micro drivers for these illegal stops. If you ride on the micros, you simply have to wait at the usual illegal stop, scan the area for cops and wait for a micro to come by. If you spot a cop, keep walking and waving at every micro that passes. Eventually, one will stop for you.
The lack of a system harms everybody. Public transport users are inconvenienced. Others who may otherwise use mass transit are put off by the cat-and-mouse game. And Kathmandu’s already insane traffic is disrupted every time a micro precariously swings to the side, cutting off everybody behind, to pick up a passenger. The measures necessary to encourage more people to ride on public transport are evident in the problems themselves. And no massive overhaul is needed. Just a little tweaking here and there will make a huge difference.
Otherwise, when traffic starts to become synonymous with hours-long gridlocks, we can copy our neighbour, Dhaka: stagger office and school hours, stagger weekly holidays and bring the army out to control the congestion.
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