http://www.anandway.com/articles.aspx?View=An_orinthologist_is_born&link=25

It’s early in a bitterly cold January morning. Darkness is reluctantly making way for light, but this morning, the sun has clearly lost its battle against fog. Trees and buildings have vanished as if by magic.

Trains must have got stuck on their tracks, and trucks and buses, on highways. Airlines passengers across North India are sulking at airports. And beyond the synthetic world of airports, on roads and allies, death is stalking people who don’t have roof over their heads.