At home, you might have a near
miss, go home relieved that are still alive and able to tell your family about
it. You tell your friends, only the miss
by about a foot becomes a miss by inches.
In India, all the misses are near misses. If you read The Times of India, you
won’t find stories of some driver caught heading down the highway in the wrong
direction. It would be liking reading an
article about Mr. Singh of Jaipur being caught red-handed boiling an egg.
The main role of the traffic
policeman at busy, city intersections is to risk his life, offer himself up as
a human sacrifice to the god of lost causes.
Even goat-herds ignore him. What
does he say to his wife when he goes home?
‘Today, my dear, someone stopped.’
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