Driving to work on one busy morning, I get stuck in a traffic jam, which of course is not unusual anymore. I get down a flyover with considerable speed and drive straight up and in between a sufficient gap created by an auto on the left and a van on the right. I press on the brakes and bring the car to a halt, the engine continuing to hum and quiver for a while. The air conditioning raises its voice and the engine quivers a bit more before I decide to bring the entire cacophony to a standstill and switch off the ignition. It was clear that the jam was going to entertain me for at least another 20 minutes. I crank up the radio volume, randomly press different radio station channels and finally switch off the radio. A little kid wearing a queer looking cap comes near the car and does somersaults on the narrow strip of asphalt.
The auto driver strains his neck around the metallic frame of his vehicle and then pulls right back in, fishing out a newspaper from below his seat and pondering over it seriously. Some more somersaults are accomplished and then a ring is brought out. The boy squeezes his body through the ring many times over and I cringe on thinking what effect this would have on his muscles.
During all this, an ambulance, desperately screaming for help, comes up behind us and urges the jam to clear. The siren is kept on and everyone in the jam, perhaps, wants to move. I want to move too. I switch on my car engine, an instinctive reaction in spite of knowing that I cannot go anywhere even with a running engine. I press the clutch, move the gear stick to first, then back to neutral and again to first. A bit of honking from me and some others around me, but absolutely nothing moves. The siren continues, reminding us of some imminent danger to someone. But as mute spectators we are entitled to do nothing. The jam moves a few meters and comes to a stop in unison. The acrobatic boy has thrown his metallic ring aside and is now moving from vehicle to vehicle with outstretched hands. I don’t see anyone giving him any money. He then starts mimicking the ambulance siren and breaks into laughter with his, perhaps, younger sister who also takes turn in asking for alms.
In the meanwhile, the ambulance was clearly struggling. Apparently the police at the end of the signal had been informed and the traffic finally started to clear a bit. Some vehicles decided that it was in their best interest to stick to the ambulance and to move along with it. Some vehicles made way for the ambulance to go by first.
The ambulance manages to find an escape path and along with it the siren sound fades to a whisper. But slowly, I begin to hear the strains of the siren returning. This time though it is the young boy mimicking the siren to keep his sister entertained. They both break into laughter after a while and I press on the accelerator pedal. The air conditioning is switched on and the silent revving becomes a tad noisier. The siren sound continues to play in my head, as I turn on the radio dial and crank up the volume.
