(Alice) The tomb of Iman Zamin at the Qutb Minar site in Delhi resolves its square base into a circular dome by virtue of the architectural device known as the squinch.
And a moveable feat of spatial resolution occurs in the relentless honking momentum of the Delhi traffic. A fragile autorickshaw will wedge into the rapidly disappearing space between two merging trucks, somehow assuming that it can move forward before it is annihilated. A car veers into oncoming traffic, confident that the impending head-on collision with a rapidly approaching bus will be avoided as both vehicles play chicken before swerving to within a few millimeters of other moving metal at the last possible moment. Every day in Delhi, carnage and dismemberment are routinely and skillfully avoided by timely fractions of an inch.
And what cannot be found along the streets of Delhi? Goats, chickens, cows, sheep and monkeys are there, along with beautifully-dressed women and all the rest of humanity. Near Indira Gandhi’s tomb, an elephant piled high with landscape trimmings lumbers down the road. Above, crazy tangled mazes of utility lines display a stratigraphy of what had worked then and now, with officially strung wires woven among the efforts of power pirates and dish wallas. Every situation is accommodated as needed, when needed, with the evidence of past accommodations not hidden or corrected. The traffic is a dynamic depiction of this Delhi skill for accommodation, as the stutter and flow of each vehicle organically weaves forward as a compliant whole.
Twelve years ago, the Delhi roads were populated with fleets of humpy old Ambassadors and diesel-spew from autorickshaws and long-haul trucks. The same roads are now plied by “clean fuel” buses and autorickshaws powered by CNG. The evidence of India’s exploding middle class is in the form of many more shiny late-model private cars. All the planning entities we met with in Delhi mentioned the need to build underground and multi-level parking facilities, currently in short supply. On the regional level, five integrated freight complexes and wholesale hubs are being developed beyond Delhi’s periphery so that long-haul truckers won’t come into Delhi in the first place: currently, many goods are trucked in from hundreds of miles out, not for consumption here, but to be re-packed and sent again on their way. “There is no need to bring the apples to Delhi to sort them out”, said one of our contacts at the School of Architecture and Planning.
Mr.Shreedarharan, Director of Delhi Metro, is a rock star among transportation administrators. We meet with him in the world’s most palatial public agency building, a glass and stainless high-rise palace designed by Stein, Doshi and Bhalla. The Delhi Metro Rail Corporation is a joint venture of the Government of India and the Delhi Government, with heavy financial backing from Japan. The Metro Master Plan involves 12 lines and 420 km of passenger rail to be completed in 4 phases. The astonishing miracle this agency has pulled off is that Phase I was completed within budget ($2.1 billion) and 2 years ahead of schedule, with no operational subsidies. Ridership today is 900,000 passengers a day, which translates to 60,000 fewer vehicles playing chicken on the Delhi streets. Why has Metro been so successful? They are a young and lean independent agency with flexibility, good organizational values and a charismatic leader who knows his stuff and views contractors as partners. To cope with the pressures of timely performance, employees meditate and do yoga as part of the work day.
The next day, we ride the clean efficient product of their labors. It is a world-class subway line, with the only oddity being the hyper-security regime. Riders are electronically scanned and bags searched, and signs everywhere educate the Delhi citizenry in mass-transit protocol, which is hardly of the squinchy nature.
Meanwhile, above ground on the roads, the good people of the capital carry on with their talent for squinching square vehicles into tiny gaps and managing chaos with a flair. Redevelopment plans for the Old City include a proposed street redesign that would put traffic dividers between vehicular lanes and pedestrian lanes and create a separate bus lane. Having seen traffic routinely go the wrong way down the divided highway to Agra, I suspect that folks will continue to use the roads in whatever manner is expeditious at the time. There is exuberance and creativity to spare in this culture, but order does not appear to be the strongest of motivating factors. But you have to admire an urban street system that accommodates the occasional water buffalo or donkey-powered vehicle as well as behemoth luxury tourist buses; the organic forward motion of the traffic beast rumbles on. As befits a former British colony, the streets are also sometimes populated by those drinkers with a running problem, the Hash House Harriers. I may chase their rabbit in Mumbai…