| No single step is lost in thoughts. Rickshaws go past and I can feel them slightly touching my cloth. A man carrying heavy iron tubes shouts from the left, a boy on a motorbike rushes at me from the right. Loud horns everywhere, people shouting and greeting. The air the smells of smog, then of cooked food; I step in mud and then swiftly circle around a lazy cow. In the narrow streets of the cities often not a centimeter is wasted. Pedestrians mingle with bikes, rickshaws, cars and animals, all fighting their way from nowhere to somewhere. It is plain chaos and yet these roads are far safer than they seem. It is because nothing goes unnoticed, there is no single move without thought, micro-seconds of eye-contact mean whole conversations and mutual respect is the unwritten law. India without its roads would not be India. (Pictures: Delhi & Bangalore) |  |
