Midnight bull: What's in a name, and other ramblings.

It was probably the lack of sleep, but the name for this blog seems fitting. Picture this: It is 0000, and the humidity comes down on me some sort of sweaty avalanche. I locate my driver. He is fittingly named Shiva, after the Hindu god of destruction. After a dusty walk, we arrive at the car, and head off toward our hotel. It is inky black except for the torn and frantic beams of light cast by the myriad vehicles on the road. Did I mention that we are tailgating a bus, and driving on the wrong side of the street? Barricades are set up in the middle of the road, blocking entire swaths of motorway. About ten feet in front of us, a fawn-colored Bramha bull lumbers slowly toward our speeding vehicle when I am captured by this thought: My driver isn't going to hit it - that bull is about as safe on this road as it is anywhere in this country. On some level, I identified with the midnight bull. While it's not my natural habitat, I am about as safe here as I am anywhere. In a way, I find myself here because I made a long string of decisions to end up in the middle of the motorway. I am simultaneously entertained, terrified, and stunned by an environment so foreign to me. I am the Midnight Bull.