As I look outside my window, I see the city hurrying by.
I see people walking, people cycling, people dodging traffic.
I see a couple walking home with bags filled with grocery.
I see young men loitering around aimlessly.
I see a family of four traveling on a scooter, snaking their way through the mad population of men, women, vendors and vehicles.
I hear the sound of endless horns of varying intensities.
I see a coconut vendor selling tender coconut by the side of the road. All the dust and soot has formed a nice layer on the coconuts. And people still buy them. He has neither clean hands nor a clean knife to slice open the coconuts. His hands and knife were probably clean at first, probably even today morning before the relentless train of human activity began rolling on the roads churning out a mini tornado of dust.
Such is the dust that it is a blessing to stay on a higher storied flat.
It's scary to drive in this city. The only traffic rule is that there are no rules. If you bump your vehicle into another, the driver with the greater connections and stronger voice gets compensation.
This is my city, this is where I was born. I cannot change that fact.
