India's worst city, Asia's worst village.

And I can do nothing to change it.
Because in the 3 months I've spent here, I've turned as apathetic as the rest of them.
Last month, we screeched to a halt when a half-drunk, half-dead man staggered across peak traffic, bleeding.
Apart from us, there was just the riff raff bunch of rickshaw wallas, paanwalasand sundry pedestrians who stopped to help him.
For an hour, if not more, we wrestled, slapped and nagged this drunkard to come with us to the hospital for first aid.
During which, not a single Honda City, SX4, BMW or Skoda stopped to help.
We took him to the nearest Police thana despite everyone's warning not to get involved.
When we reached the thana, we understood why.
The police put their hands up, ordering us to take him to the hospital on our own accord.
My oife gave them a dressing down they'll never forget, her West Asian fighting genes kicking in.
The police relented. And carried the man to the hospital in their own gypsy.
Round one to the citizen.

Today, my oife relived the experience, as a biker was rudely nudged off the road by a speeding autowalla.
His pillion, a woman holding a child, fell off the bike.
Once more the missus was the only one stupid enough to stop.
Thankfully, the woman and child were unhurt.
And the passerbyes just looked on, grinning like brainless primates usually seen only north of the Vindhyas.

If I weren't a Bengali, I'd have loved to knock their molars in.
Instead I turned the volume up and sped away, contemplating this blog.