Pimp my horn!

One of the most distinctive sounds in Delhi is the almost continuous sound of beeping horns. I have spent the last few days trying to determine exactly how one uses their horn in Delhi and to what extent it is considered rude to press one's “excuse me old chap, would you mind moving out of the way” button?

First of all, you can forget about your traffic on the M8/M6/M25/Westlink when trying to comprehend what the traffic is like on a main road. If you can picture a sand timer and all the grains of sand are cars/scooters/buses/trucks/rickshaws/bicycles/cows/people/donkeys and the timer is the road you will be somewhere on the right track. Therefore using ones horn is essential to navigate such a 'hullabaloo' and I think I may have worked out the correct etiquette and is detailed below:

1 short beep = “Hello dear fellow, just letting you know I am here”

1 reasonably long beep = “Do please move out of the way as I am heading towards you and I'm afraid I might kill you if you don't.”

or

“I am turning left/right so please do not attempt to cross this particular road, again I may kill you”

Relentlessly leaning on
the horn with all their = Either “one's horn is broken” or “I'm deaf/blind”
might.

The other strange thing is that there seems to be some strange underground horn 'pimping' scene here. Those of you familiar with the tv show 'Pimp my ride' will understand this but for those who are doing a bit of head scratching just now it basically means people change their horns for a more 'unique' model, similar to the neds/chavs/steeks who put massive wheels and loud exhausts on their battered Citreon saxo's.

The result is that you will be walking along the street and a small battered scooter driven by an elderly gentleman buzzes past and you are treated to an Indian version of the dukes of hazzard. You also have the fading horn which sounds similar to the Doppler effect but is actually just more annoying. And finally you have the gentleman who has used his horn so much that he has in effect worn it out. The result of which is something between a kazoo and a constipated Donald Duck.

And so hear ends my description/translation of the Indian horn culture, something which I think everyone should experience at least once in their lives, even if it is the last.