Crazy Train: Part 1
It’s easy for me to talk about poverty from the comfort of my bedroom, propped up with a few pillows, typing on my laptop, and trying to decide whether I should play music with my phone, computer, or ipod. It’s much harder to talk about poverty when it’s staring you directly in the face. If you’ve never experienced this, take a ride on any passenger train in India. The train station in Bangalore was about 1 hour by bus from Visthar, through the most crowded streets I have ever encountered, and I’ve been in some pretty serious traffic. The difference is that in America, we categorize. “Trucks only” “Cars only” “Bus lane” “HOV lane.” But in India there are no such laws. “Truck? Rickshaw? Camel? Bike? Feet? Whatever your mode of transportation, you are welcome here!” One thing that you will never be in a car in India is bored, even without a built in DVD player. On the ride M, R, and I were having a casual conversation, I believe about the US military an