On the Road in Rajasthan: Vehicular-Caused Bone, Joint Damage in India

More so than anything recently, this trip has encouraged me to rethink my views on work overseas.

Any crash on the roads is bad, but the mismatch of size, speed & composition (flesh vs. steel) magnifies the damage. Morbidity & mortality are high, exceeding that of some deadly infectious diseases, & the hazard to bone & joint is far beyond that of inflammatory arthritis & even osteoarthritis.

A Visit to India

I took my trip to India with my wife a few years ago in March, at a time when the heat is intensifying but still tolerable. This trip was a pure vacation.

Traffic in India is chaotic, with many vehicles, including those that would be deemed unsafe in the U.S., crowding the busy streets.
Salvador Aznar/shutterstock.com

Usually, when I go overseas, it is for a meeting or conference and I spend three days in a dark conference room in a Hilton-like hotel in the downtown area, fighting against jet lag, struggling to catch the essence of ornate PowerPoint slides as intricate and colorful as a fine Spanish tapestry. Sometimes, I make what I call a jail break during one of the sessions, sneaking away with a friend to see paintings by Goya at the Prado or those by Klimt at the Belvedere. The only other parts of the country I see are the neighborhoods that border the highway or train tracks on the way from the airport and back.

My friends who have been to India had told me about the explosion of the senses that can weary or inspire. Although I may have wanted to “see India,” my wife and I preferred something safe, sedate and predictable. We, therefore, decided to get a package tour and hit the high points of the Golden Triangle—the Qutab Minar in Delhi, the Amber Fort in Jaipur and the Taj Mahal in Agra.

Having been warned about the ardors of driving and public transportation, we hired a van with an experienced driver to transport us from place to place during a week, including an excursion first to see Jodhpur, the “blue city” and site of the Mehrangarh Fort, and other places in the state of Rajasthan.

On the Road

Our driver’s name was Amir. He had a pleasant smile and thick black hair that was neatly parted. His English was quite good, and he acted as an informal tour guide, calling my wife “Mam.” Every day, he arrived exactly on time, looking clean shaven, his shirt neatly pressed. We never knew where he spent the night after he had dropped us off at our hotel, a Taj or Oberoi, part of the splurge. When asked about his lodging, Amir laughed and shook his head, declining to say.