Accident

I saw my first traffic mash-up today. Not a big one; just a motorcycle skidding fast into an auto-rickshaw in the middle of an intersection; a scrape really, with squealing brakes and curses and banged-up chrome. But it sort of challenged my idea that even though the streets seem totally insane here -- helmetless, seatbeltless, four-people-on-a-scooter, pedestrians frequently wading out in front of oncoming cars -- there was some kind of cosmic order to it all by which it all worked out and everyone was safe. How else to explain the father with his three-year-old son sitting on his lap as he weaves in and out among trucks, over huge potholes, on his motorcycle?

Trusting in this cosmic order, I've become a little addicted to riding around in auto-rickshaws. To get into something so small and fragile (which invariably wedges itself at top speed only inches away from much larger vehicles) is to essentially give over all sense of safety. In America there is such an over-emphasis on being in control and minimizing risk that it was a little jarring at first (and in my first ride in Chennai I was white-knuckled the whole ride, bracing myself against the seat), but I now find it sort of freeing to just relax and let the driver buzz through the city, wrong side of the road, in the hand of fate.