You Know You Live in a City in India When....

 
You are visiting one of those few oases of green, a garden, hoping for a little fresh air, silence, and solitude, but every single one of the benches lining the avenue is taken by couple of all shapes and sizes and head coverings, who snuggle into each others' arms, getting closer, closer, more entwined until FWEEEEEEEEEET! The security guy/watchman blows his whistle to announce that SOMEONE has broken the rule: 'Thus far and no farther.' They then spring apart as all eyes are turned on them. But even the potential shaming doesn't stop the next couple, and the next. This really happens.

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You read news articles where police are quoted as saying "In true Indian culture, love is not for display at a public place or garden. Hugging and kissing at a public place is not our culture and therefore we are also opposing Valentine's Day. If love is real, you do not glorify it by kissing each other at a public place, but you do it within confined space of four walls."

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There is nowhere, nowhere within the city you CAN be alone with your beloved (except in your home, which for most people wouldn't be alone anyway) without the danger of being mugged. This drives all dating couples to leave the city perched on two wheelers, and head for the nearby hills and forts. Where all the other couples head on weekends too. Oh well, you tried. And you could get mugged there too.

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You and your group of friends have all gone on multiple monsoon treks to the hills, where you got muddy and exhausted (because that's the only exercise you've done in a year), but felt really cool and adventurous and brave when you reached the top of the hill. (Wait is this only a Pune thing?)

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You hear a screech of tyres, a clash of metal, on the road nearby, and everyone falls silent, straining their ears for the probable sounds to follow- raised, angry voices, getting louder and angrier, with more joining in, until a fight breaks out. That's because more often than not the driver of a vehicle that causes an accident is beaten up by a mob. If you hold your breath, and the sounds fade away, you heave a sigh of relief.

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Your eyes are scanned for the mangled bodies of dead dogs on the road. Because you have seen them too often. Even if you aren't an animal lover, you are hoping hoping those dumb dogs pick up some survival skills and stop stumbling around in the middle of the street waiting for someone to kill them.

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You get on your bike to ride somewhere, see maybe fifteen other vehicles on the street and perhaps twenty pedestrians and think, "Wow, the streets are empty today."

 An empty street

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I you are a girl on the street, either pedestrian or bike-riders, you are swathed in scarves that render you faceless. This has multiple possible reasons: to protect your hair from getting greasy with pollution, to lessen the amount of smoke you inhale, to protect your face from pollution- and dirt-induced breakouts, and of course to make sure if any aunty from your neighbourhood sees you clinging to some guy on a bike, or talking to a guy on the street, she'll never know who it was, so she can't go and complain to your parents about your indecent behaviour.

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A tiny percentage of bike-riders are actually wearing helmets. As we said, the girls wear scarves, because their complexions are more important than their brains. The men now... many of them carry their helmets... on the crook of their arms, as they ride. Or locked on the helmet lock on the back of the bike. Maybe a few will actually wear one... with the straps undone. 

 The minority

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You ride on the streets like you expect everyone to try to kill you. This is the only way to survive. You have very low expectations of everyone else's common sense, desire for your survival, and even desire for their own survival. Defensive driving is a finely honed but essential skill.

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The End. For now.