11.02.25: India Traffic

The first time you see Indian traffic, it feels like chaos. Cars, bikes, cows, rickshaws all weaving like a living organism. Horns blare, but not in anger, more like sonar pulses. Then you realize it works. Somehow, the flow happens. I once rode in a tuk-tuk through Delhi convinced I’d die every five seconds, but the driver never flinched. There’s a rhythm to it, an invisible agreement that everyone honors. Western order feels stiff compared to this dance. In India, traffic isn’t about rules, it’s about trust. You surrender, and somehow, you make it through alive.