(pic courtesy Varun N's cell, thanks man, now u kno why i grabbed ur cell in the middle of the road :D)
This sight sends chills down the hawker's spine. This imposing grey-as-death monster can snatch your living away in a matter of moments. Entire careers, livelihoods, and bread have been lost whole to this boogeyman. Behold, the BMC grand-confiscator! The sight of this beast even from 300 m away can set into motion reactions that scream 'helter-skelter, mass chaos, and code red alert!'. And what follows is the sight of more than 50-60 hawkers packing up their merchandise as quickly as they can and hiding it from sight. A few minutes later, the patroller moves on, and after a quick check of its disappearance, life resumes.
After plying people all day and night, early dawn seems to be the only time this rickshaw driver gets to catch up on sleep, after catching directions, swear words, and the occasional traffic cop the day before. The sun shining on his face reminds him of the above loop he has to survive all over again. But, for now, dreams of bollywood heroines will work just fine.
The most common use of hands (in public places atleast) by the Indian male. This self-degrading and mouth-cancer receiving act has been perceived as 'cool' by the junta that loves to spit red at signal intersections, any exposed wall, and pretty much any public location that doesnt have a tile of a god on it. Bus drivers spit red out of their door windows. And proof of this is evident 15 feet on the road from any bus stop.
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