The folks in Amritsar are accustomed to a more colourful rendition of the mother tongue, way more deep-rooted to the expletive traditions than we refugees.
I guess we all have the right to open the day our own way. Much like the rooster’s call we used to hear in our yesteryears. But the robust sounds one gets to hear today rankle the nerves early in the morning.
Vehicles jostling for action, invincible pedestrians, haughty teens, overflowing garbage trucks and scores of animals dot the streets of this city, and somehow everyone persistently continues to survive the mayhem.
