What are the rules when there are no rules?
India drives on the left — a legacy of the British, along with cricket, parliamentary democracy, and a fondness for milky tea. If you’re from the Americas or continental Europe, remember: traffic comes from the right first. Tattoo this on the inside of your eyelids if necessary.
Zebra crossings are decorative. They exist on the tarmac the way inspirational quotes exist on office walls — technically present, universally ignored. Vehicles will park on top of the stripes.
And here’s the twist — much like salmon swimming upstream, a surprising number of Delhi motorists can be found driving against the flow of traffic on the wrong side of the road. This is why you look both ways even on a one-way street.
Especially on a one-way street.
Traffic does not stop for pedestrians. In Delhi’s road hierarchy, might is right and mass is king. Buses don’t yield to cars. Cars don’t yield to two-wheelers. And two-wheelers don’t yield to anyone, least of all the person on foot. During rush hour, motorcycles and scooters will mount the pavement and drive along it with the nonchalance of someone taking a shortcut through their own living room.
So how do you actually cross? The best analogy is the 1981 arcade game Frogger — and I mean that with zero irony. You are the frog. The lanes are the logs and the trucks. Wait for a gap, move one lane. Pause. Wait for the next gap. Move another lane. When you move, commit — hesitation is more dangerous than speed. But don’t run, either. Steady, deliberate movement is the key. The traffic, improbably, will flow around you — provided you give it a pattern to read.
When all else fails: do as the Delhiites do. Find a local crossing the road, fall in beside them like a remora on a shark, and match their pace. They’ve been playing this game since birth. Draft off their expertise, reach the other side, and congratulate yourself on surviving something that most cities would classify as an extreme sport.