I nearly ran over a blind man's cane today on my bicycle ride to Sunderpur. Many other near collisions I don't even notice--because they are behind me. Things that I cannot see are outside of my control. The streets here are ruled by little more than the laws of physics, and how badly can you get hurt when nothing is moving faster than 10 mph? But you see blood, almost daily. Cow's hooves cracked, their tails grazed, countless three-legged dogs. There is no margin of error here.
This place seems perpetually on the verge of collapse. Perhaps two months ago on my way to Sunderpur, I saw the most beautiful of load-bearing columns--an impossible column, made of unmortared brick, curved in a beautiful "S" up to the corrugated sheet-metal roof. It fell days later. One slip can ruin a family.
Maybe this sounds dark or bitter. It is neither. Here only is an urban jungle that is characterized by constant struggle for survival. There is something about the rawness that I love, and that I will miss. A very small part of this struggle I have come to embody, and will carry home with me on Monday.
