When driving to work (a long way from home), I can select between two roads. I tend to think of one of them as The Male Road and the other one as The Female Road.

The Male Road is a wide and generous, no-nonsense, mostly straight highway, probably the best freeway in the state. It cuts through the industrial north-east of the state. Plenty of room for traffic, though congestions do happen once in a while. The Male Road has a battle-hardened, no-nonsense look for all its wideness. At the point where I get on it, the road seems to be still deciding whether to be a normal road, or a tough-guy road. After about 10 miles, it reaches a decision – it is going to be a tough guy. The surroundings change dramatically. First we see the iron-and-concrete superstructures of the power plants and refineries. The tumescence of their chimneys in a lewd gesture, a challenge to the missionary position. The airport comes next; the trampoline of its runway bounces back into the air an incessant stream of airplanes. By now, everything on both sides of the road has harsh, salty, weathered look. Humphrey Bogart’s voice, Clint Eastwood’s looks, and Bob Dylan’s music: the road compares to each of these. The bay is a stone’s throw away (one would need really strong arms: Armstrong? ) The road then divides – one arm tries to pinch the bottom of the Great Metropolis, and the other arm extends towards its shoulder. I take the latter. Without any warning, the road enters a primieval marsh. The marsh lies wide and forgiving, spread-eagled under the vast sky. The skyscrapers are to the east and can be seen only in the distance. On warm days, the smell of sulphur dioxide thickens the air. The road rides the marsh for probably 5 miles. It again changes it character and tries to look more domesticated. Disgusted, I say bye to the road.

The Female Road is the exact opposite of the male one. Trees line it on both sides, which turn lush and verdant in season. The road conveys the feeling of being relaxed and in a state of permanent dishabille. An atmosphere of sexy sleepiness permeates the road most of the time, but the looks are very deceptive. For one thing, this road is narrow, and much crooked; there are many, many more turns and twists in this road compared to the other one. In bad weather, these serpentine charms cause the number of accidents on this highway to jump. The road changes its girth pretty quickly too. At one point it is a buxom matron, allowing 5 lanes of traffic. In a matter of miles, it becomes thin-figured, like someone on a crash diet course. Everywhere, the merge lanes are short and abrupt. It is a difficult to road to understand and handle, almost as difficult to understand a woman. The only reason to travel this road would then be its cheap price – it costs 1/3rd of the money as compared to the Male Road. I, ever the admirer of the cheap and the garish, succumb to her charm whenever I cannot afford, making the Male Road the road less traveled.