I hate to say it, but I am precariously close to the brink of intense road rage, the like of which cannot be remotely fathomed unless one has spent a reasonable amount of time in an Indian metro.
I realize violence isn't the answer, and especially as we're three days away from the anniversary of the birth of Christ. But I don't think an environment has quite stirred me up as much as our ten block radius.
I used to play a game of how many times cars would honk at me during the ten minute walk from my house to the metro station, but I would lose count after about 15 or so. It's quite incredible, and I just keep telling myself that they actually think it's good driving to honk so many times needlessly (when my friend, Priya, was getting her driver's license in Hyderabad, her instructor kept yelling at her because she wouldn't honk the horn enough!) It's become too easy of a joke to say how much cars honk (even when all alone on the road at 4:15am, my cab would honk every five minutes or so, as though to make sure his horns were indeed working fine since the last time he checked).
But telling yourself these stories only helps so much when the horns honk so loudly and directly in your ear that you just want to yell yourself (or throw whatever you happen to be holding)! I was teasing Tyler that he doesn't have as many stray dog friends in our new neighborhood versus his old one, and he remarked that the dogs here just seem so stressed all the time with all the cars honking in every direction!
So instead, I focus on the positives. That's the thing with India. One second you feel intense anger at the car that honked right in your ear; literally the next, you spot laughing schoolchildren, crossing the street with their arms wrapped around each other, and can't help but smile. (It works the other way too. I was just emailing Tyler how excited I was for dal, murgh makhani (butter chicken) and garlic naan tonight, then spotted bloodied fish being sold on our sidewalk (as in, literally displayed on a single newspaper upon the sidewalk, blood dripping and attracting flies and dogs from all directions... that's one way to kill an appetite!)
As much as the walk to and from the metro station infuriates me, it's also quite magical -- passing crumbling architectural structures, I imagine from the 18th century or so. Always, there's cricket to be played (I wonder whether the children realize the magic of playing cricket amidst these gorgeous structures). The animals make me smile as well. There are dogs who pop out from the dumpster, looking embarrassed they've been discovered; or serene-looking cows acting like kings of their castle.
And that's the beauty with India. Everything happens all at once; you can't have the magic without the mayhem; the serenity without the noise. Perhaps there's really no juxtaposition at all -- it's the yin and the yang, combined, that gives one a fullness in life.
Still. I really think I could do without the honks.
I realize violence isn't the answer, and especially as we're three days away from the anniversary of the birth of Christ. But I don't think an environment has quite stirred me up as much as our ten block radius.
I used to play a game of how many times cars would honk at me during the ten minute walk from my house to the metro station, but I would lose count after about 15 or so. It's quite incredible, and I just keep telling myself that they actually think it's good driving to honk so many times needlessly (when my friend, Priya, was getting her driver's license in Hyderabad, her instructor kept yelling at her because she wouldn't honk the horn enough!) It's become too easy of a joke to say how much cars honk (even when all alone on the road at 4:15am, my cab would honk every five minutes or so, as though to make sure his horns were indeed working fine since the last time he checked).
But telling yourself these stories only helps so much when the horns honk so loudly and directly in your ear that you just want to yell yourself (or throw whatever you happen to be holding)! I was teasing Tyler that he doesn't have as many stray dog friends in our new neighborhood versus his old one, and he remarked that the dogs here just seem so stressed all the time with all the cars honking in every direction!
So instead, I focus on the positives. That's the thing with India. One second you feel intense anger at the car that honked right in your ear; literally the next, you spot laughing schoolchildren, crossing the street with their arms wrapped around each other, and can't help but smile. (It works the other way too. I was just emailing Tyler how excited I was for dal, murgh makhani (butter chicken) and garlic naan tonight, then spotted bloodied fish being sold on our sidewalk (as in, literally displayed on a single newspaper upon the sidewalk, blood dripping and attracting flies and dogs from all directions... that's one way to kill an appetite!)
As much as the walk to and from the metro station infuriates me, it's also quite magical -- passing crumbling architectural structures, I imagine from the 18th century or so. Always, there's cricket to be played (I wonder whether the children realize the magic of playing cricket amidst these gorgeous structures). The animals make me smile as well. There are dogs who pop out from the dumpster, looking embarrassed they've been discovered; or serene-looking cows acting like kings of their castle.
And that's the beauty with India. Everything happens all at once; you can't have the magic without the mayhem; the serenity without the noise. Perhaps there's really no juxtaposition at all -- it's the yin and the yang, combined, that gives one a fullness in life.
Still. I really think I could do without the honks.
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