Day came early with a cacophony of traffic and street sounds: piercing horns, rickshaw bells, hawkers, calls to prayer, popular Indian music. The frequent daily power outages accentuated the the heat, but people adjusted as best they could. Down the street from where I lived, the smells were of samosas frying mixed with the over-powering stench of live chickens in coops at the market, and then the odor of raw sewage from open trenches along the streets. The open theater of everyday life, where not only do people conduct their daily teeth-brushing and business ventures, but interact with each other, exchanging gossip or 'adda', as if they were back in the village. It's a miracle that things function.