The problem with tolerance

Traffic in Bangalore while heading back home in the evenings post work is always resultant; you will always without fail spot a mishap, you are bound to spot a new pothole on the road or find a new pipe that has just been laid and quickly filled in with mud so as not to annoy commuters too much. It really doesn’t matter if the patch dug up has been re-tarred, we somehow seem to believe and accept it if the whole dug is just covered to let me through. I was weaving through traffic with this in mind when I realised that this same concept actually lives through me in various forms and associations. I have a level of toleration which allows me to turn a blind eye till such time that I can no longer take the irritation or it crosses my tolerance zone. I’ve built such zones through out my daily activities allowing for sacrifices to be made again and again so when I finally look back, I see the entire road filled with potholes.