I'm scared to cross the roads here. I'm getting used to the smaller side
streets, but the main ones swarm with speeding vehicles and buzz with
danger. The first time I was in Bangalore I never felt safer than when a
local friend held my hand and guided me across the main MG Road.
Without him I feel like I'm guiding a chariot across the Red Sea, fearing
that what looks like an empty landscape will change before I can do
anything about it. If there are other people waiting by the edge - they
always look so calm - I hang in their shadow like a shy child grabbing a
parent's leg.
At home, I've been teaching my little girl about roads and crossing them.
We stand at the edge, look left and right, until we can't see any cars.
I don't know what I'd tell her here because hundreds of metres of empty
lanes don't exist.
There are vehicles everywhere, smooth-running sedans, smoke-blowing
rickshaws, motorcycles with fearless riders and bicycles of various
degrees of sturdiness. To me the slow-pedalling cyclists are among the
world's bravest people. They are so much more vulnerable than edgy
tourists.
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