The Story
Every day I step out in Benson Town, and every day the road greets me with something new. No, not flowers, not street art, not even a friendly neighbour but a fresh wound in the earth.
It’s almost a tradition here: wake up, open the door, and bam! there’s a trench where the road used to be. Sometimes it’s the BWSSB laying pipelines, sometimes it’s cable work, sometimes it’s repairing a leakage the list is longer than the Metro completion date. And when they’re done? They leave behind craters filled with loose soil or, if we’re feeling especially blessed, a patch of bitumen that looks like it was applied by a tailor learning to stitch on their first day.
These patches are never flat no, that would be boring. Instead, they’re humps, ridges, or miniature hills. Which brings me to the official “Hump Olympics” of Bengaluru. I’m convinced our road engineers are competing to see who can create the most back-breaking speed breaker. Do they ever think about the rider’s spine? Is there even a standard size for these humps, or is it freestyle all the way?
Some roads are so narrow, driving through them feels like an amusement park ride except here, the danger is real. One wrong turn and you’re wondering if you’ll make it home or end up in a viral WhatsApp video titled “Biker Meets Open Drain.”
And amidst all this chaos are the honkers. You could be stuck behind a JCB, a cow, or an entire roadblock, but they’ll keep honking like it’s a magic spell that makes obstacles disappear. What joy do they get out of this? Is it therapy for them? Should I just hand them a stress ball instead?
Now, I’m not here to blame the Gen Z speedsters entirely. Yes, I love the Need for Speed game, but do we really need to play it in real life on pothole-ridden roads? And then there are the daredevils riding triple-seat, without helmets, dodging craters like they’re auditioning for an action movie. I sometimes slow down just to see if they’ll actually topple over. Sadly, the universe never grants me that entertainment.
Oh, and speaking of near-death experiences once, while riding on Nandidurga Road, I was nearly decapitated by manja(the sharp kite-flying thread). For a split second, I thought that was it. The End. Roll credits. If you don’t believe me, here’s the video proof: YouTube Link.
Even my morning jogs aren’t safe anymore. In Jayamahal Extension, joggers and vehicles share the same narrow lane. You either sprint for your life or become roadkill. It’s great cardio, I suppose.
So here’s the question I’m wrestling with: do I just keep my head down, wait for things to magically improve one day, and accept that this is “Bengaluru life”? Or do I speak up to the state government, to the central government and demand to know what’s going on?
To the state government: Why is my beautiful city being dug up every other month? Why are you cutting down trees and stealing our clean air? Why is traffic becoming a full-time job?
To the Modi government: Are you even paying attention? Or are you too busy making highways that feel like Final Destination sets? And let’s not even talk about the cost of living that’s not an article, that’s a PhD thesis.
Because if we don’t start asking these questions, we’re not just in trouble we’re in soup. Thick, murky, pothole-flavoured soup.
And here’s the real twist: tomorrow morning, I’ll step out again… and I’m almost sure the road will have a new surprise for me.
