Thursday is almost over for those of us who live east of the prime meridian. And yet, here goes-
As I waited for the signal to change on my way back home from work, I couldn't help notice the freshly painted zebra crossing. My mind took me back to my childhood.
Growing up in a village in India in the 80s our roads were single lane, tar roads. We had no traffic lights, no pavement (sidewalk), and no zebra crossing. I knew of traffic rules from the colourful storybooks I had. I knew exactly what red, amber and green meant, but only saw traffic lights when we visited cities. Zebra crossings held a special fascination for me.I always wanted to cross the road on one. I would try to imagine what it would feel like to have all vehicles stop just for me to cross the road on a specially designed strip of road. Whenever we visited Trivandrum, I would excitedly point at the beautifully symmetrical black and white stripes from my uncle's rickety jeep.
I was fascinated by them!
Now, they're a thing I hardly ever notice. I do know that my little village is now officially a little town and that we do have zebra crossings on our roads back home too.
But every once in a while, our city decides to repaint the faded crossing lines and I'm transported back to my childhood !