Yellow Death Cabs of Fun and Other Adventures of the Day

Dear Erik, Dace, Jake, Ryan and Logan,

Traffic in Kolkata seems to operate at times as though there are no rules. There are rules of course, there must be, but to an American who is used to signs everywhere and clear lanes of traffic, it seems like chaos. This morning I had a young cabbie, most seem to be around forty or older, amazing for a profession that keeps the blood pumping and requires lightning reflexs. But my cabbie this morning is younger, and apparently lost as he seems to ask directions immeadiately after leaving the hotel. My typical route is down Chowringhee St., then on to an over pass, and a few turns then on to Sarat Bose. It's simple. I could do it. If I were insane enough to drive in this traffic. Which I'm not.
As we came off the overpass, oncoming traffic seemed to veer into our lane, but my cabbie continued to drive. There was a large red bus looming ahead like so e great plodding elephant, still he moved forward. Finally, in this Indian game of chicken my drive gave in, or rather he stopped. Right there. In the middle of six lanes of traffic.
I didn't see what happened next because, frankly, when the bus was less than fifty yards away I covered my eyes. I only opened them when the cab stopped, and as there was no grating crunch of steel, no scream of agony from the cabbie, I was a bit perplexed. There was the cab and the bus. Stopped in the middle of a Kolkata street. My cabbie seemed to remember then that in the world of vehicular domination, he was small potatoes, bright yellow paint job or not. He deftly backed the cab up a few feet, jerked the wheel around and sped off. Mind you this all happened in less than thirty seconds. Of course I think about three years were shaved off my life in that time.
We like to pride ourselves in Montana and say we can drive anywhere. We conquer mountains just to buy groceries, and a blizzard is good weather for a Sunday drive. But I guarantee you that any sane Montanan would think a highway cattle drive is better organized and safer than the streets of Kolkata.
I say this in jest, of course. I am an outsider, and of course I don't know the rules. There appears to be a language in the honking horns and swerving moves of the thousands of cars on the road. To me it's all gibberish. To Kolkatans it's simply another day.