Three years ago, I was shoved into a new phase of my life, that of a lowly pedestrian. At the age of 36, I had to retire my gleaming midnight black Pulsar bike, my legs were too weak to support her weight anymore, and I had to rely on family or friends to get me from point A to B. I got bamboo sticks, and my now 78 year-young father went to a few hardware stores to get rubber studs for the bases, and I began to learn to walk again.
Ah, self reliance!
The soles of my shoes were soon worn to the hilt, I can’t lift my feet nimbly like the rest of you, and a distance that used to take me five minutes to cover by motorcycle, now takes me a sweat-soaked hour. I learnt to walk on the higher edge of the road, the camber there was more conducive to feet dragging. I was repeatedly stalked by the gang of street dogs that haunt the late judge’s mansion next door, was nearly attacked by a pedigreed pooch with an untethered, full body harness, whilst her aristocratic owner stood by nonchalantly as I turned and barked back at the terrified mutt. I learnt the hard way that fallen leaves meant falling flat, and getting up without a nearby car or wall for support was impossible. I remember my late mama standing on the balcony, waiting patiently for me to get back home. I’ve applied for a learner’s permit for a differently abled person’s tricycle(I doubt it’ll ever reach the triple digit speeds of my Black Beauty ) but government protocol hasn’t been as forthcoming as I’d like it to be. I miss merging with the sunset at Cabo Raj, I’d given up years ago on sacred Odxel, after a dead coconut tree was planted firmly between seaside and special-needs riders. Adios, Odxel! The energy vortex I’d fallen head-over-sandy-heels-in-love with since a school picnic back in first grade. I sorely miss my morning rides by the misty Taleigao fields, while I’d say a silent prayer for the hardworking princes who toiled there, and their families.
Panjim is my purgatory now. It burns my heart when I see videos of sewage next to St. Inez church. My heart goes out to the residents of Mala, and I wonder how the PWD king can sleep at night. I seethe at the thought that senior citizens are denied walks and the chance to socialize because of rubble-strewn roads. I recall how a single lane of the Dona Paula-Miramar bypass took six years to ‘fix’, how a road-building behemoth was parked there idly for months on end. I have no doubt the scheming Smart City works will eclipse that ungodly time frame and cost taxpayers not just money but their health and much more.
21st century societies do not live by ‘survival of the fittest’. Come June, it will be the bounden duty of the hon’ble courts to rein in self-confessed lions in positions of power, and finally remove the pirates prefix from the PWD.
