It took me years to understand that riots are not as common as I thought they were. This happened during a conversation with friends from other countries, who couldn't fathom how I took the idea of violence in public so casually. We were discussing a protest somewhere in South Bombay, where representatives of a political party had chosen to make their displeasure about something felt by stoning vehicles in the vicinity. Buses were damaged and a few stores lost their windows. "Just another day in Bombay," I said, and the surprise was obvious.

Being witness to a riot of any kind ought not to be normal. And yet, I remember my first vividly, in the early 90s, when my city burned for days and there were bodies covered in cloth piled on sides of the streets. As a teenager, it traumatised me, but also hardened me to the reality of how brutish our lives are in a county that markets itself as a non-violent haven of peace.