Traffic in Delhi, plus observations of smoke

A few observations on Delhi traffic and atmosphere:

Traffic in Delhi was nuts in a way that was new to me. It consists of a crazy multiplicity of vehicle types: cars, trucks, buses, bicycles, motorcycles, pedicabs, auto-rickshaws, horse-drawn carts. (Auto-rickshaws have a sort of flimsy canopied golf cart frame over a small motorcycle or scooter body. They seat three cozily, with the driver operating foot pedals in the front. The “doors” – if there are any – are flaps of canvas or rubber and are mostly pushed open.) Motorcycles bear one, two, three, sometimes four passengers. Women riding pillion perch sidesaddle in their sarees, looking perfectly tranquil and improbably balanced. Most eschew helmets. And in Agra once or twice I saw camels & an elephant. (Although not on motorcycles.) Goats and cows and dogs and children wander throughout.

Then all of these are going in all directions simultaneously, like snowflakes under a streetlamp. Which seems terribly hazardous. And of course lanes are purely decorative – everyone slaloms along as though they are very woozy, like spinning tops about to fall over, nosing through every tiny (and I do mean tiny) gap in traffic. And everyone is within inches of everyone else. At all times I could have reached out and not only touched the people in the auto-rickshaw next to me but also shaken hands with them and perhaps read over their shoulders. I have twice seen one “rick” driver push another out of the way with his foot. I’ve also seen one rick driver serve as tugboat to another who was perhaps conserving (or out of) gas.

When someone wishes to turn across traffic, which is everyone all the time, they simply launch themselves into the lane of oncoming traffic, and the flow (with constant communicative honking in the key of “beep”) slowly parts around them. It is a hideous tangle, a huge endless game of Chicken, and quite exhilarating, particularly when in an open-sided conveyance. The saving grace is that traffic rarely moves quickly – more often it’s between 5 & 20 mph. I’ve only been in a car that hit another car twice. Both times brief, unheated conversations were exchanged out windows and everyone continued on their determined, byzantine way.

All the traffic islands are occupied, by dogs circled in the dirt, napping cows, and circles of squatted men talking.

Delhi was full of smoke, a visible haze settled on the ground and rising up above the houses, blocking out views (and most stars). We were told it mostly came from the millions of tiny cook fires everywhere. We did see folks everywhere squatting on the ground next to small braziers, warming their hands or heating milk or stirring things in wok-like pots. We have all been coughing ever since we got here and my snot is quite black. On the plus side, hardly any vehicles use diesel, so the smell of pollution isn’t oppressive (the way it is in, say, Mexican cities) and despite coughing a lot I feel quite good. Food’s agreeing with me, too.

Oop, my half-hour’s up. More soon I hope.

Love you all!

Deborah

p.s. bought my first princess dress – red & brown – for about $125.