Klonks, klanks, screeches, vroom and horns blaring.
That’s the sound of Indian traffic.
Out here, downtown India in a small village by the name of Padmanabhapuram, at the crossover of streets, right in front of an historical building, here lies the action. Ginger tea in my hand I observe the chaotic beauty.
It’s so hot I probably sweat a third of my bodyweight daily. People keep telling me it’s only getting higher until the rainy season hits, June or july.
I am the only foreigner out here in these parts at this time of year.
No one’s crazy enough for those scorching hot and sweaty weather.
Forget the saunas. Come to South India in May.
You’ll get your money’s worth. No refunds.
Getting played by taxi drivers included.
The perfect getaway vacation!
First time I saw Indian traffic, I was baffled.
They cross lanes all the time. Buses pass you by, barely face fronting your life away. there’s no streetlights and the walkers get in on the action too. It’s a wonderful mess to be part of.
One day, as I was enjoying a mango juice in Kerala’s capital, directly in front of traffic, something hit me. Despite the thousands of cars, buses, motorcycles and trucks flowing by, I did not feel stressed at all. Not one bit.
Back home in Montréal, I avoid traffic at all costs.
There’s a pressure and tension present that I do not like.
Out here, downtown Kiruvananthapuram, the traffic did not bother at all.
As I was wondering why, I came to a possible explanation.
Contrary to Canadian traffic which is filled with frustration, anger, despair and suffering, Indian traffic is so overwhelmingly wild, the only way to survive is to play.
To be playful. To approach it as a game. Or else you hesitate and die.
By all standards, it’s a total neverending crisis.
You have to find the opportunity and without any second thoughts: seize it.
Who would have thought that traffic could teach such a profound life lesson.
When everything is in flux, victory comes to those who take action with clarity and decisiveness
