Directionally challenged

Disoriented as I am, any road that I cannot see the end of is an undecipherable maze.

I am always in awe of people who give directions saying, “Turn east for 1.5 km and then northwest.” And even more in awe of those who can follow it. I can barely manage to do the right and left turns and that, only if it includes a significant landmark like a red building or a hospital, with an added time reference of say, 10 minutes. Any road that I cannot see the end of is an undecipherable maze.

Believing that honesty is the best policy in a marriage, I confided in my husband how disoriented I could get. He said he had no problem and he was just a phone call away. It took me sometime to understand that behind all that façade of knowingness, he was also clueless.

Whenever I called him up while being stuck in traffic and having to get someplace urgently, he always instructed me to go straight and turn right. He never could wait to listen to the full description of the exact coordinates of where I was stuck. The repeat phone calls asking for clarification were never answered as suddenly an urgent meeting would materialise.

I, therefore, prefer now to stop every three minutes and check with pedestrians, auto drivers and motorists to ask as to how to get to where I am going. It’s very significant that 99 per cent of the people whom you ask for directions will helpfully guide you, whether they know the location or not. I think people feel empowered when they tell you to skip a flyover and three signals and take a right and then a left.

Then all those driving apps happened. The one’s that speak seem more friendly and authoritative. But these voices from the sky are not made for our city roads, where every other day a part of the road is dug up and you are welcomed with a no entry sign. I think what would really solve all these problems are interactive maps like the ones in the Nintendo games.

Recent research proclaims that there is an inbuilt GPS in our brains that determines our sense of direction. It is consoling in some way to hear that being bewildered on the road is due to a genetic affliction and not a learning deficiency.

My sense of guilt, when I drive round in circles and leave behind more indelible carbon footprints than my conscientious heart wants to, has lessened. Reposing faith in my fellow citizens to get out of the tangle of roads seems the only option. I have turned back many a time without reaching my destination but meeting so many helpful people on the way, which fills me with hope.

I am also convinced that the real good Samaritans are those who tell you to go ahead and ask. I follow this principle. I plead ignorance when lost motorists accost me for directions but recommend that they should ask a policeman or a shopkeeper. I get strange disbelieving stares for being unhelpful. My husband, on the other hand, always cheerfully says,“Go straight and turn right.” They beam gratefully back at him.