After being stuck in here for about half an hour I feel like I’m cooking. Even Priya keeps fanning herself. As soon as the oven doors of the cab are thrown open I take a deep breath of hot air, scented with the sweet smell of roses and petrol fumes. We stand under the vast metal arches of the Howrah Bridge, where thousands of people and vehicles of every kind are crossing back and forth as if they’re taking part in some epic choreographed dance. This place makes the middle of London look like the countryside! I look down at the water flowing slowly under the bridge. I love the feeling of being this close to the river. It’s like in London when you walk along the Thames – the city suddenly feels rooted. The water keeps on flowing, and no matter how important people might think they are, the river was there before them and it will be there after them, flowing on and on through time. I look down at the wide brown river as boats of every size – from great metal tankers to tiny rowing boats with colourful bunting flags – pass along the river.
