Sunday 4 March 2012

Trafficophobia

Bedazzled? Try standing in the middle
of that road.

If you’ve ever seen the roads of Karachi at night, it does live up to its reputation as the City of Lights. The lines of glimmering, yellow street lights, the glowing windows of towering buildings and the roads- the roads with the endless array of shiny cars speeding across the landscape all create this unique ambiance of subtlety. I spewed in every piece of my vocabulary to plant that image into your mind because it is truly a spectacle to behold, if you look at it from the car window. But if you’re a desperate pedestrian trying to cross those cars raging across the road at blinding, bullet-fast speeds- not so much.

It was only a few weeks ago that I realized that I had serious ‘trafficophobia’. Since then, I try me best to avoid crossing roads, even if it means taking the longest routes, the most desperate rides, or the shadiest shortcuts. I believe the origins of this fear can be traced back to my childhood when my dad used to carry me in his arms while we crossed those ferociously fast cars. It used to be enjoyable at that point in time- all I had to do is cuddle up and grab my dad tightly. I used to close my eyes and wait while my dad hastily crossed the road- I remember hearing the blaring horns, and the shiny headlights that flickered across my closed eyes. I treated it as an amusement ride, failing to realize the patience and caution needed for the task.

This habit lived on, and even when I grew up, I would ask my father to carry me across, even though I was capable enough to walk by his side. He would hesitate but carry me anyway, feeling that it would be safer. But as I grew up, I became taller, older and heavier. It was then that my mother drew the line and told my dad to stop complying so willingly to these pesky requests and make me a bit more independent. We both obeyed reluctantly- after all, arguing with mom was equivalent to provoking an endless tattler.

I feel like this on the road.
Clearly, mom’s strategy didn’t exactly work out. My hesitation to cross roads myself has spiraled into this fanciful, irrational road-phobia. I have been forced to cross roads at times though and I have failed miserably every time. My friends often laugh at my apparent inability to cross roads and how frequently I’ve put myself in the brink of road accidents. It is pretty funny though, if you look at from their perspective. But imagine your nose at an inch’s distance from the cold, metallic surface of a high-roof car. Imagine intercepting a speeding car in the middle of the road, which suddenly stops with an echoing screech. It stuns the entire body for a moment, and you look ahead at what just happened, while the car driver drives away, abusing and screaming at you at the same time. You feel angry at yourself for your hastiness, your indecision, your recklessness and your lack of judgment. But after all this, you feel a blissful sense of relief, as you realize the potential consequences of being hit by that car.

Even today, I dream about being tossed around or being run over by large, flashing vehicles. The roads still confuse me- I try to cross them and then suddenly return to the footpath again. If I intercept a car, I go ahead but then, I move back again, soon realizing that I’m actually oscillating on a road with many impatient, careless drivers. It actually seems amusing if you picture it. Oh, and there's an actual word for it- agyrophobia, or something? I'll stick with my own word.

I won’t give you a melodramatic story about how I overcame this fear, because I haven’t. But as sad as this post seems, it wasn’t supposed to be. Why?
I have a car and I aint afraid to use it, bitches. :D