Deer in the Headlights

Several years ago, my suburban neighborhood had a deer infestation.  Thanks to shrinking forests, there were suddenly deer everywhere, in places where deer had no right to be, like the supermarket parking lot.

So the county government did what county governments often do in these situations - it authorized the county's hunters, of whom there were not many (this being the suburbs of an East Coast city, after all) to shoot deer on sight, even after the usual hunting season ended.

Walking home today, I wonder if the Delhi government hasn't adopted a similar approach to the problem of burgeoning human population, by authorizing all motorbikes to mow down pedestrians at random.  There is probably no individual more aimless than a Delhi motorcyclist, who in his passion to avoid traffic jams will take detours that add tens of miles to his overall route.  But if we view the motorbiker not as a commuter, but as an executioner, then it becomes apparent that he is, in fact, almost scarily effective.

Consider my evening commute.  I recently moved into a house that is "on the Metro line."  This seemed like a good idea, but in fact it has turned out to be a catastrophe.  In an attempt to save a few rupees, I may in fact lose my life.  During my five-minute walk home from the Metro, I almost collided with two (TWO!) different men on bikes, one of whom looked offended at my sudden appearance in the lane and drove away swearing.  The other blinked and braked suddenly, like he'd just woken from a dream to find an apparition in his path.

In a city of dangers both public and huge - rape! theft! malaria! dengue! cholera! - the most dangerous thing a person can do in Delhi is still the most commonplace: cross the street.