An Ode to the Bengaluru Road
Gone are those days, when people’s talking taste was only about Weather and Traffic. The new talk of the town, hey smile.. don’t frown, is the locations of potholes so specific.
They add to the beauty, and act as the dimple, oh road you cutie! They’re spread across everywhere in the city. They don’t spare anyone, a pedestrian or a wheeler, but only the helicopters and that’s a pity.
They are spread across all the roads in a peculiarly random fashion. You might avoid one, or may be even 2, but you cannot help but get into another and learn a quick driving lesson.
Because where else will you get such a lovely training to drive and BONUS: open your senses to the unpicked garbage’s stench for free? With increase in concentration and ability to stretch, (the answer is everywhere in the country).
Some manholes would be open, some would be absent. Some men will fall and become God’s tenant. Some holes would be wide, some will be narrow. If you haven’t bathe since yesterday, it will rain again 2 days in a row, carry an umbrella or you can take open shower tomorrow.
You have nothing to lose. It will only make you good, while driving with one hand as and putting the other to cover your no(o)se.
The randomness of the holes cannot be measured but at least that’s what makes them something to be treasured. As one survives the potholed lanes, one finally reaches the city’s foamy veins.
I saw one guard, stopping a cameraman from taking the pics of one of the lathery Lake. But all in vain as the froth was in full flow, lake gave everyone around a low blow, we inhaled more toxin than the pics that he could ever take.
So is the condition everywhere in Monsoon, or otherwise. The asphalt is laid but withers away too soon, and we keep tolerating it like common loons. We cannot be optimistic or get our hopes up because whatever dream of development you have, will, for optical fibre cable, get dug up.