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Steering Through Chaos: My Wild Ride on India’s Roads
From London Calm to Indian Storm
Cruising India’s roads these past weeks, I’ve realized it’s less about transport and more a personality litmus test. No kidding. On these streets, it’s a free-for-all circus. We’re talking about ducking, weaving, honking, cursing – it’s like navigating a no-holds-barred adventure game.
Every inch is a contested battleground, every hesitation exploited. Courtesy? Forget it. Conformity and ignorance reign supreme, and every tick of the clock counts. It’s an exhausting, nerve-frying, noise-blasting ordeal. Law and order take a backseat to pure, unadulterated narcissism.
Whether you’re on a rickety bike or in a Rolls Royce, the objective’s the same: get from A to B in the most direct, ruthless way possible. It’s a universal ethos, cutting across all social strata and beliefs.
All caste systems, all religious sects, all professions, all abilities, all political affiliations, all over, everyday, everywhere.
People who are absolutely docile IRL turn into frantic hellraising behemoths when behind the wheel. People who make millions turn into grasping, grabby sluts on the tarmac. And the guy with the Rolex? Drives like he just hot-wired his ride.
