A couple of days back, a father was transporting his daughter on a motorcycle to a school in a city in India. Something went wrong and they both fell off the motorcycle. The traffic volume was high and they both get crushed under the wheels of a bus.
Mark Manson has written an article A Dust Over India. An excerpt from Mark Manson's article,
The first thing that strikes you about India is how dirty it is. In a
word, the place is disgusting. All of it. The entire country. Never
before have I seen mountains of garbage the size of a small house
stacked on the side of a road, in broad daylight, in the middle of a
city, repeatedly. Dumpsters tipped over and overflowing. Mounds of trash
— wrappers, cups, papers, napkins, strewn all about, mixed with sludge
from the soda and urine and spit coagulated from thousands of daily
Like the dust, the garbage never ceases.
And along with the garbage, there is an unending stream of humanity. It
is impossible to spend a full day in the middle of a major Indian city
without lobotomizing yourself trying to figure out where the hell all of
the people come from. I’ve been to Hong Kong. I’ve been to Manhattan
and Beijing. I’ve been to Mexico City. And the swarm of humanity
crawling through India’s cities is unparalleled. There’s no comparison.
Many streets more closely resemble a bee hive than a functioning human
society. When I flew into Mumbai, there were homeless people sleeping on
the tarmac. Take a moment for that to sink in: the city is so crowded and disgusting that people decide they’d rather sleep on the airport runway.
And that is the second thing to strike you about India. The poverty.
It is legitimate take-your-breath-away poverty. Like the kind you see on
TV charity ads but far worse. And far more real. Limbless men stewing
about in their own feces. Emaciated children playing on a piles of
garbage. A man with his leg literally rotting off to the bone, maggots
and all, laying on the curb. It’s everywhere. The amount of suffering is
indescribable. And it is unceasing. After a couple days, I was excited
to hire a driver to go to Agra because I figured I’d be able to see some
countryside and escape the stench and horrors of the city. But no. The
entire four hours between Delhi and Agra was an unending stream of
people, garbage and cars, with billows of dust drafting in our wake the
whole way down.
My initial reaction the first few days was pure shock. But it quickly
evolved into anger. How could a place like this be allowed to exist?
How could normal people walk around with a clear conscience with so much
shit and squalor festering about them? I felt indignant. Where was the
social accountability? Where was the charity? Where the fuck was the government?