Upon Landing

After 20 hours of flying, an over-rated Tom Hanks movie (looking at you Captain Philips) and a surprisingly good in-flight meal, I finally step off the plane into Bangalore, India. The customs officer wave me through and I get the first stamp in my shiny, old passport.

I find Ada (my contact for Oasis India) and her friend outside of the airport holding a sign with my name written on it in bright crayon, each letter a different color. They are both friendly and brush aside my apologies for making them wake up at five in the morning. They were happy to, they assure me. 

We walk up to a waiting taxi and as the driver loads my bags Ada’s friend offers me the front seat. I accept and open the door on the right-hand side to find a steering wheel. I quickly sort out that the steering wheel is not out of place--I am. Five minutes out of the airport and I manage to look like a tourist. Sorry everyone.

But the girls laugh and tell me it’s best to let a professional do the driving.

And they’re right. Driving in India is utter chaos. It’s a ballet of insanity. Every man for himself. Don’t touch the brakes unless you’re within at least an inch of committing vehicular manslaughter. I suspect there is some order to it, but my ignorant eyes, brought up elsewhere, can find no trace. 

On the roads there are lines painted to designate lanes, but for the most part they go unnoticed by drivers and wandering cows alike. If there’s enough space between two cars, hit the gas and speed through it. Remember that shoulders are acceptable lane choices and pedestrians who wander too far from the curb do so at their own risk. If a car is in your way, blast your horn and drive towards it as if to say, “My car is about to be where your car is now and you have three seconds to decide what you would like to do with that information”.

A rough translation. 

At one point we pull up to an intersection where six roads converge. It’s no man’s land. There are no lights, no signs and the right-of-way goes to the driver with the least to live for. We only narrowly avoid a head on collision with a motorcycle, though looking around our taxi you wouldn’t know it. The unfazed expressions of my new friends let me know that this is not uncommon and that my loud gasp was wholly unnecessary. 

It was before dawn when the taxi left the airport, but as we drive further into the city, the sun begins rising and India is unveiled to me piece by piece. And it’s a good thing too; India all at once can be a lot to take in. Woman walking with various goods balanced on their head, leprosy-stricken beggars reaching out to early commuters, friends sipping chai on the side of the road, the half-built or half-destroyed (I can’t tell) buildings, the packs of stray dogs and aimless cattle, the beautiful, sprawling architecture, the sporadic burning trash heaps. Each new sight is perceived for a second before being pushed aside by another. Words like sad, beautiful and fascinating rush through my mind trying to label each one, but it’s no use, there’s just too many.

I am overwhelmed and my first day here has only just begun.