In Kannada, 'Gundi' is a pothole.
I love Bengaluru, never mind the 'Gundis'. They are so indigenous to Bengaluru's landscape, that we could use them as our city's emblem.
I just read a newspaper report that the Karnataka sarkara has taken a break from filling 'Gundis', as they are pre-occupied with conducting a door-to-door caste survey.
Apparently they are committed to ensuring equality and socio-economic justice, before paying attention to saving the life and limb of the citizens of Bengaluru. 'Gundis' can wait, as filling them up has always been their pastime and never a mainstream task.
Pray, tell me dear sarkara, why are you in such a frantic hurry to conduct a caste survey, when our citizens are busy manoeuvring their vehicles through 'Gundis' of all sizes and shapes in the city? Why don't you spend your valuable time, instead, classifying the sizes of the 'Gundis' - Small, Medium, Large, Extra Large and so on?
Please get the Google Maps Aunty to alert us about how wide or deep the 'Gundi' is, or how it feels (texture - rough/smooth) when we glide into it, so that we know the extent of the danger that lies ahead. We can accordingly control the speed and try to move forwards/backwards/sideways on our seats. Aunty can also add a line while she helps me navigate to my destination on the 23rd cross - 'In 200 metres, take a deep breath, exhale, and swerve to the right to avoid the two Extra Large 'Gundis', and Bingo, your destination is on the left'.
We don't need speed-breakers in Bengaluru. They are formed naturally by rain and shine, motorists and our sarkara. The sarkara helps with digging roads, laying pipes or drains and absconds without covering them properly. These sites eventually manifest as speed breakers, thus leaving a trail of evidence that the sarkara is sincerely working for the 'samaanya manushya's yogakshema'.
In Bengaluru, we don't drive like normal drivers on normal roads in normal cities. Instead, we crawl stealthily on the roads and cautiously lower our vehicles into what looks like a deceptively shallow 'Gundi'. There are only two possible outcomes. Shallow or deep - Just take off and pray to Almighty for a safe landing.
1. We hold our breaths as we descend into the 'Gundi' and heave a sigh of relief when we emerge victorious and unscathed from the feat.
2. If you are unlucky and sink deep into an XL 'Gundi', stay there and hold your nerves till you are rescued. Do not try callisthenics to disembark, else your spine or limbs could be in trouble.
Dear sarkaara, why are you counting people based on their antecedents? A city that is tech-savvy, start-up loving, writes codes for every little activity under the sun, excels in AI, builds data centres, launches Chandrayaan, and plans Gaganyaan, cannot actually fill 'Gundis' on Mother Earth?
Is there a more exasperating city than Bengaluru? Try driving on a week day from Hebbal to Hosur road, enroute Bengaluru's most static landmark - The Central Silk Board junction, and find out for yourself. Here, time stands still. Hence, it is the perfect venue to look inwards, introspect and search for the meaning and purpose of life. One needs to cross many bridges to attain salvation. The famous Marathahalli bridge is one of them.
I have a suggestion for my sarkara. When you are filling up the Survey form and ticking the boxes, please check with the citizens whether they have had a 'Gundi' experience. If the answer is YES, please ask them which part of their body suffered damage, so that we can wear protective shields on the most vulnerable areas. A Google map for Bengaluru 'Gundis', as a part of the survey, with Google ratings on a scale of 5 from the most notorious to the innocuous, would be a welcome step.
While our sarkara is busy deciding whether I belong to the creamy layer or the crispy layer, I must find out from my insurance agent if my premium covers repairs to injuries from 'Gundi' encounters.
Latha Raghuram.