Chennai by cycle

On my bicycle pedalling through streets is one of my happy places to be. Having ridden a cycle for commute in Chennai for a dozen recent years, my bond with my city when doing so is different from when I’m in a car. Dogs on streets I frequent know me. I stop by on a whim at a tender coconut vendor and have a spontaneous chat about his history. I notice a new shop and drop by for a popsicle. I ride through streets inaccessible to cars. Old localities, usually — like a park ’n’ walk through mada veethi with a softy in hand to catch the Mylapore vibe.

Anywhere within about 15 km that I need to go solo, I’m usually on my cycle. I ride a hybrid with shock absorbers to help negotiate our roads. A hybrid offers a good compromise compared with the thin high-pressure tyres of “road bikes” which will take the road shocks straight through your spine.

While the sun is relentless during summer, Chennai’s October-February season is gorgeous for cycling. Even during peak summer, the air is cool enough in localities with good tree cover. Just a little away from arterial roads, and it gets quiet enough to hear birds and the air turns cleaner.

And I dream. And I remember. Having cycled the wide streets of Mandaveli as a school kid without a worry about motor vehicles, I choke a little thinking of how I had to accompany my kids to teach them to navigate today’s roads safely as they ride to school. Three months, before I felt comfortable leaving them on their own.

During what now seems to be a brief blip in time — the COVID lockdowns — the dream became reality. With open roads and my cycle and no motor vehicles in sight, it was paradise on earth … at least for a while.

I keep getting asked, “Is it feasible for everyone?”, “Isn’t it unsafe?”, “OMG! You send your kids by cycle alone?!”. According to data from Google Maps, cars average 24 kmph here. I average 18kmph on a brisk ride, with a headwind. At other times, I don’t care about going fast anywhere and yet routinely ride past vehicles stuck in traffic. Just doing all my direct and last-mile commutes on my cycle, the odometer I had for about three years read 13,800 km.

Chennai offers moments that must have popped out of the pages of an R.K. Narayan book. A cow stopped a BMW mid-street and nearly eased itself on its hood, while a Porsche waited behind, as I zoomed past both on my pedals. Or the other day when I took a joy ride along Beach Road and someone pulled up alongside on a motorcycle and asked me, “I see you’re going at 40 sir. How fast can you really go on a cycle?” We chatted a bit as we rode alongside each other. Or the occasion when I noticed a police cap had fallen by the booth as the lady was busy with her tasks and I could stop to pick it up for her and share a brief greet. Moments of connection to cherish.

India skipped the “phone in every home” phase to cellular networks. T. Nagar and K.N.K. Road redesigns are showing what prioritising walking and cycling can do to a neighbourhood. So I dream that we skip to a life after cars, to walkable and bikeable cities that we can truly belong to, to reconnect with each other, where quiet efficiency and being gentle with our environs is cherished.

one@sriku.org