Kolkata is a fascinating place, full of imperial relics, where gently crumbling buildings patched up with advertisements surround the main trunk roads. Tin roofed markets sell live animals in cages, hunks of meat, swathes of fabric and metalwork. Street sellers with toys, snacks, fruit and books, line every busy avenue, as people rush by.
Through all the madness run the buses.
Brightly painted and battered from heavy use, these derelict, doorless institutions serve as a perfect symbol for the chaotic city; eccentric, aging and charismatic, but still grinding along, without a care for the rapidly industrialising country around them.
