Driving across a railway level crossing during peak hours cures your low blood pressure. For instance, you are the first at a closed level crossing on a narrow two-lane road. More vehicles arrive and queue up behind you on the left lane. The right lane remains free to allow vehicles from the opposite side to come through when the crossing opens. So far, so good.
A minute passes. The queue behind you is getting longer. Then the inevitable happens. An impatient cab driver (is there any other kind?) arriving last, ignores the mile-long queue in front of him, takes the right lane, and draws abreast of your car. He is in the wrong lane, but his look says, “So what?” He is swiftly followed by other cars, autorickshaws, vans and two-wheelers — all of them filling the right-side lane. You are sure all the motorists patiently waiting behind you on the left lane are feeling foolish for having queued behind you. Before your unbelieving eyes, both the left and right lanes are packed, and the chaos is complete. Across the level-crossing, on the opposite side, is a mirror situation — the right lane is blocked, too. Now, it’s full of vehicles on both sides, arrayed against each other in full strength.
Why do we do it the hard way? No clue to this pathology is visible on the faces of the drivers who have blocked every inch of the wrong lane. They sit right on the path of oncoming traffic, hoping that the gods above will somehow resolve this mess they have just added to, though it is obvious that only airborne vehicles from the opposite side of the tracks can go past this gridlock.
Just then a train rumbles past. The gateman raises the boom barrier, setting off a stampede in slow motion, requiring nothing less than divine help.
It has been several minutes since the train had gone past. The few vehicles that have broken free of the melee on either side of the tracks are now stranded right on the railway track. It is time for the next train. Do we hear a distant rumbling?
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