Bangalore on three legs

            During the first few days following an injury like a broken foot or a torn ACL, the pain and inconvenience is slightly offset by the concerned attention you now receive, and in fact, there is even some perverse pleasure to be found in the mere novelty of wearing a cast and not being able to function properly.  This can be called the "honeymoon period" if you will.  Eventually, however, the concerned attention becomes unwanted attention, the novelty wears thin, and you have to settle in for the grind, the long slog, in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health.  You tolerate each drawn-out minute knowing that you are now that little bit closer to terminating the relationship with that cruel and despised partner who has been preventing you from reaching your true potential and has been making life difficult for so long.  And finally, the day arrives [cue soundtrack of fluttering doves and the voices of angels] 

... ...

            I'm still waiting for that last part though, to be fair, the waiting isn't nearly as bad as they make it out to be.  The biggest challenge I now face is getting around because navigating Bangalore, which I find difficult to begin with, is now more difficult than ever.  India is not an ideal place to have mobility issues.  Although a handicapped person will have plenty of company and will receive plenty of sympathy, the country is not designed to make life easy for the disabled.  The sidewalks are lined with deathtraps; the phrase “holes and uneven surfaces abound” does not do the reality justice.  Seriously, the Appalachian Trail is, on average, a smoother, safer surface.  If there are guidelines for making a building accessible in Indian construction codes (assuming those exist), they are certainly ignored.  There are flippin’ stairs everywhere, and we're not talking Italian marble staircases here.  Finally, because of increased population density and decreased amounts of personal space, you are always fighting the jostling crowds to maintain a bubble of safety.  Maybe I should start an NGO.