Mumbai (Bombay), India, is a city of elegant chaos, 18 million people, most of whom seemingly at any one time in traffic – in cars, trucks, taxis, buses, motored rickshaws; on scooters, motorcycles, bikes, foot – all moving in all directions, slow and stop and start (quick, sudden), a constant weaving between lanes, marked or not, ignored, accompanied by the incessant beeping of horns, some warning of coming through, some signal of allowed merging, some anger at attempted forced entry, none with a clear indication of intention (at least to the frightened initiate who marvels in wonder at the uneasy ballet) – the w
hole a mechanistic mess that in an odd way probably best
smacks of the human circulatory system, with the constant shove for corpuscular position, not so much competing for any individual advantage but rather cooperating in a muddle of mass motion forward, however hesitant.
Mumbai (Bombay), India, is a city of elegant chaos, 18 million people, most of whom seemingly at any one time in traffic – in cars, trucks, taxis, buses, motored rickshaws; on scooters, motorcycles, bikes, foot – all moving in all directions, slow and stop and start (quick, sudden), a constant weaving between lanes, marked or not, ignored, accompanied by the incessant beeping of horns, some warning of coming through, some signal of allowed merging, some anger at attempted forced entry, none with a clear indication of intention (at least to the frightened initiate who marvels in wonder at the uneasy ballet) – the w
hole a mechanistic mess that in an odd way probably best smacks of the human circulatory system, with the constant shove for corpuscular position, not so much competing for any individual advantage but rather cooperating in a muddle of mass motion forward, however hesitant.
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