3 Cheers for the Jakartan Traffic. Review on Jakarta

They had warned me. About Jakarta’s traffic. That it was bad.

I had always understood the meaning of hyperbole. But, perhaps for the first time I’ve understood the meaning of the term “understatement”. Bad, my left foot! It is downright … for the first time I’m at a loss for the apt word.

On my day one – I was kind of indisposed whatwith the jet-lag and homesickness. So I told the driver let’s head for home at 4 pm. Normally it takes about an hour from Sudhirman to Pondak Indah. That day it took 5 hours. Yeah, 5 hours – and no hyperbole, mind you. This was in the first week of February this year. We read in the newspaper next day that there had been a freak storm and that a whole lot of trees and lamp poles had got uprooted. And when trees and lamp poles get uprooted – they sometimes get strewn over the road too – right? Hence the general chaos and mammoth traffic jams.

Oh, well,well…

But two days later when there were no trees strewn on the road so to speak of – and I told the driver to take me to a nearby mall – well, what was a half an hour drive – took only two hours. Now this was plumb crazy! Boy! Was I going nuts! I just felt like banging my head against the nearest wall.

And as I felt like screaming my lungs out and pulling my hair – better sense also started prevailing over me. What the hell was I getting so worked up for. Could I change Jakarta’s traffic? Obviously I couldn’t. Folks, now you wouldn’t believe this. With a little help from a eight-letter word called attitude – I’ve kind of gone crazy about Jakarta’s traffic. It’s opened a whole new world for me.

The longer it takes for the driver to reach the place of my destination – the better it’s for me. For the first time in my life I’m catching up on my reading – books I’d always wanted to read but could not find the time for. Wow! The gnawing sense of frustration of not being able to read what I wanted to for want of time has vanished -- as they say in thin, ethereal air. And anytime I don’t want to do intensive reading – well the Time, the Newsweek, the Tempo, the Djakarta Magazine, and of course, The Jakarta Post , are always there. As is the ubiquitous Reader’s Digest.

And then there is this music. The music that I always wanted to hear – but just like reading couldn’t find time for. I make a happy blend of Bach and Beethoven with Beatles and Boney M. ; of Mozart with Madonna. Every time the driver sees me he shakes his head sadly and mumbles something – for not being able to fathom me or my music. Any number of times have I got so lost in music that the driver has to tell me ever so politely: “Roomah please, mister!”

I had always wanted to begin my day with marshalling my thoughts and how I would go about doing things on that particular day – something for which I always lacked time. Well to put it succinctly there is enough time now – to plan my day in minutest details. Thanks to the long, long drive( not distance-wise, but time-wise) to office.

And then there is this opportunity to observe Jakarta first hand – this happy go lucky kid sitting on the pavement playing a guitar. And the never-ending streams of mo-bikes – these riders with iron in their souls going on and on and on come rain or sunshine or storm. They couldn’t be bothered one bit of the sleek sedans and limousines. The blue train whizzes by – teeming people on the rooftops .They seem to be happy in their own world. They too couldn’t care less of the Mercs and BMWs. As a free-lance writer I’ve always had this strong power of observation , which has always stood me in good stead .And what better way of observing Jakarta’s humanity in its myriad forms other than a two-hour drive, day in and day out.

And on a particular weekend if you are particularly tired after a rollercoaster week – one can always pick up a couple of beers, put on one’s favorite CDs, and generally unwind. In fact, I even steal forty winks when I’m in the car and the long drive really

does me good in terms of the nap.

But the best part of Jakarta’s traffic has always been the patience of my driver – he just never seems to lose his cool. Come hell or high water. Once, just for once, I would want him to get flustered , get fazed. But no sir – he remains cool as a cucumber. I’ve never seen him press the horn even once. “What’s the use?” he says and so rightly. In the past few months, with my driver as the role model, I’m slowly but surely, learning the art of Zen-like patience. I’m also developing a sense of empathy – that elusive feeling of being in the other guy’s moccasins. A sense which even the best of Management gurus couldn’t instill in me earlier. No one seems to have heard the term “road-rage” here. Seldom have I come across drivers screaming or shouting or hurling abuses at each other.

The other day my driver said “maaf” . I looked concerned. “Bad traffic, maybe two hours to reach roomah,” he said. I told him that I wanted a long, long nap. And could he take three hours instead of two hours. He looked at me strangely. He’s a bit scared of me now – I guess he thinks I’m gradually going mad .

And as for me – so used to have I become to the Jakartan traffic, and so much that I owe to it that God forbid if it improved , I’d be in dire trouble. I wouldn’t know what to do.

So why don’t you join me in saying: “ Three cheers for the Jakartan traffic! ”