‘OK Google’, how is the commute from home to work?’

‘Alright, the best way to get from home to work by car is via national highway 75 along outer ring road and it should take an hour and 23 minutes in moderate traffic’

Trust me, it takes longer. Though monotony is such a cliché, it’s something we invariably bring into our lives whether we like it or not. Even if Google suggests alternatives to avoid traffic, we stick to our usual route hoping against all odds that some of the vehicles may have used the alternate routes freeing up space for us at the blood red junctions. Alas, nothing of that sort happens. 

I’ve been travelling twenty eight kilometers one way in break neck Bangalore traffic along its busiest stretch for the past two years and I can state with a certain degree of confidence that Bangalore traffic has character; with its vehicles, drivers, potholes, rains and constructions. When I started traversing this route, little did I know that I would learn so much about its changing and evolving patterns.

Cricketing terminology mandates batsmen to practice hitting in the V. Never did I realize that my esteemed colleagues on the road practice driving in the V i.e. they wait for a space to open up and jump without caring a damn about who’s to their right or left. That beseeching scream of brakes, loud honks and of course some yelling on either side is certainly not for the fainthearted.

Coming to think of the faint hearts, how can our ambulances be far behind. There are some who drive as if they want to pick up passengers from the road to fill up the hospitals and then there are others who drive as if they’re racing a tortoise with an intent to let the tortoise win; someone please tell them that slow and steady will not win the race against death and please have some paramedics in the van so as to lend some legitimacy to the concept of driving an ambulance.

Aberrations aside, potholes are a constant. They’re like weather; repeatedly appearing at the very same spot every second month with such consistency that my car has developed artificial intelligence to avoid them every second month. Though our government makes its best attempt at spending all of tax payer’s money on citizens’ benefits, the fault invariably comes down to changing weather patterns and topographic conditions of the city. And then comes the implementation of cement topped roads; that ugly monster with a big head and a long tail. Even the mention of this monster and every road hugging citizen starts to shiver and sweat in anticipation as to when the monster is going to wreck her or his stretch of the road. It’s been a year and half since it came onto my stretch and it still manages to wag its tail at me. I just wonder how many more lives it is going to torture as it continues its quest of Bangalore domination; not to mention how these cement topped roads would behave when the rains arrive in a few months.

Now that we mention rains, I’m sure even Google Assistant and Alexa would give up on traffic predictions once rains make way to the city. Though rains paint a pretty sight, its only viable to enjoy the rains from the confines of your window, balcony or terrace and not while seated behind the wheel. Imagine you’re traversing an underpass, the water is deep enough to enter the engine and yet you brave it thinking the car is indestructible. What happens next is that you’re stuck in knee deep water waving frantically at fellow vehicles for help to move your car to safety. That’s where the true character of Bangalore emerges where people jump in with you to help you move your car to safety. That the tow truck arrives four hours later to transport your car to the workshop is story for another day.  

As I wind up my day at work, I realize that I’ve an iPhone, that too an old one, and since Siri is the most  incompatible of devices where it doesn’t like to mingle with Google Assistant or Alexa or anyone else for that matter, I’ve no other choice but to use maps to find my route home. Even though it’s highly unlikely I’ll change routes based on the recommendation, I see no harm in checking the blue, orange and red hues one last time. It’s all blue for now but still would take me 59 minutes to get home. I take a deep breath and message home that I’m about to begin the return journey. That they wait for me to say that every day is motivation enough to step on the accelerator and cover those 59 minutes, one moment at a time. But then, there’s always music to keep me company.