I walk to work. Most people think I'm mad - the Indians don't seem big on physical exercise, but at least it keeps me somewhat active, even if I am breathing in heavily polluted air.
Every day starts here at my chai stall. They guy is pumping water from .... a water pump, I guess.
The chai stall owner keeps a bucket of that water by the stall that people come and help themselves from.
I have refrained.
Down the road and round the corner is what appears to be a massive makeshift urinal.
Right next to the main road. I hold my breath for about 20 metres either side.
As you do
Being a nation of non-walkers has somewhat eradicated the need and use of pavements, meaning one lane of traffic is actually shared by pedestrians. It makes for some interesting road safety observations.
Walkers swell out into the road, and the cars... well they don't actually care. Do not think for one minute that they will stop for a pedestrian ... But it also means that (or is a result from) the small cramped shops spread out onto what was a pavement. Anyone trying to walk down it is squeezed - on this particular road - between mountains of tyres and car parts and a metal railing, supposedly protecting you from the road. But what it actually does is simply encourage people to walk along the road.
Today there seemed to be some interest over a motorbike - or nothing at all ... hard to tell.
Two doors from my office is Mother House, the centre of the charity set up by Mother Teresa. I pop in every day. I sit by her shrine and take a few minutes of silence before heading out into the day.
Every day there is a different message in flowers.
This man lives on the street just outside my office. He sells something, I'm not quite sure what, odds and ends, bits and pieces, I've seen old hairbands, radio parts, eye glasses.
Everyday he smiles gently and welcomes me with his hands together in prayer, the traditional namaste. And the same each time I return home as he is neatly folding away his wares.
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