<b>Geetanjali Krishna:</b> Evening the odds on Delhi's roads

Thanks to the odd-even formula for cars in Delhi, I find myself using public transport more than before. It invariably leads to more social interactions which I'm enjoying immensely. This Monday, returning by Metro from Old Delhi, I took a cab home from the station. The cabbie Gurbaksh Singh was a jovial sardarji, who told me that this was the best ever Monday he'd had in the 10 years that he's been a taxi driver in Delhi. "That's why I'm still laughing and talking to you," he said. "Normally, by 7 pm on a Monday evening, I'm so bushed that I can barely drive, let alone smile and chat with my passengers." Guessing that the source of his happiness had something to do with the newly implemented traffic restrictions in the city, I asked him to elucidate.

Singh began with the bad stuff. Usually, he said, he began work around seven in the morning. "I'd drive into a traffic jam right outside my house in Janak Puri," he said. The school buses, I asked? He nodded in assent. He said that by the time he'd waded through an hour of school rush, it would be office rush time. "By 11 am, I'd usually want to call it a day… but given that this taxi is my sole source of income, of course I had to carry on," he said. "So I'd pop a Disprin pill six days out of seven, and carry on." Evenings were worse. "Most of my fares are in the Connaught Place area, officegoers going home. Navigating the traffic at that time, breathing those exhaust fumes, I often thought that driving on Delhi's roads was the worst kind of punishment," he declared.

Initially, Singh liked the Delhi government's odd-even formula for cars, as it meant additional business opportunities for him. "January began with empty roads, no traffic and no demand for taxis," he said. "The weekend was just as bad for business." Then came Monday, when offices reopened.

Singh began with taking a passenger to a gurdwara in New Friends Colony. "From there, I ferried people to Faridabad, New Delhi Railway Station, Terminal 3 at the airport and Punjabi Bagh," he reported. Usually, after driving through some of Delhi's most congested locations, he said, he'd have been a wreck. "But today's been different," he said, turning his back to the road to show me his face. "See how fresh I am," he asked. I nodded hastily, if only to get him looking at the road again. "I don't know what this rule is doing to reduce air pollution in Delhi," he said. "But I just can't get over how smooth traffic has been all day on the capital's roads!"

Just then, a motorcycle zigzagged past us and I wondered aloud why two-wheelers were exempted from the traffic restrictions. Singh's reply made me think. "I feel there's profound justice in asking people like you to make the initial sacrifice," he said. "You're the ones who can best afford the alternatives - work from home, take taxis… keep two cars with odd and even number plates, even." On the other hand, people who drove two-wheelers would be hard-pressed to find alternatives without impacting their livelihoods, he said. "Before asking the homeless to stop lighting fires to keep warm, or a deliveryman to deliver goods on a cycle instead of a motorcycle, isn't it fair that people like you make some cosmetic changes in your lifestyles," he asked.

Meanwhile, Singh said he was working extra hours to cash in on the increased demand for taxis. Just then, his phone pinged. "Oh great! I've got another fare after I drop you," he said. "I hope the government decides to extend these traffic restrictions beyond January 15."