When I was about to start the day with a tasty chai and some local newspaper, I was shocked to the core to see a detailed, fully colored photo of a man whose limbs were spread all across the street. I am by no means used to and did not expect to see any real-life-horror like this. Plus, I was deeply confused by the police man who, instead of helping somehow, screamed at the heavily wounded person. Why the hell did he do that?
Avoiding to glance at the picture, I read the article; There was a bankrupt rickshaw driver who was paid by the mafia to transport bombs from one hiding place to the other, and that this bomb blew up while he did so. Neither has it been the first nor will it be the last accident, it might never end, this is what happens in our country every other day, the article said. That is why the police officer acted the way he did.
Even now, I don’t know what to make of it.1
However, if it comes to “India”, I recommend reading “White Tiger” by Aravind Adiga. ↩