One really can’t be sure any longer, it seems like such a long time ago. But rumour has it that at one point of time, there was a road that connected Good Luck Cafe in Deccan Gymkhana to the Police Ground.
This road, it is said, used to pass by Fergusson College, and there exists some vague theory about the road therefore being called Fergusson College Road. Who can say, though? For that road, if it all it existed, has today been mutilated beyond all recognition.
Start walking towards the police ground from Deccan Gymkhana (be sure to wear good trekking shoes and carry some band-aid with you, though), and experience it for yourself.
You are likely to see, in no particular order, the following:
Large Gaping Holes on either side of the road, with a bewildering profusion of cables, wires, pipes and associated paraphernalia lying jumbled up in those Holes.
By the side of said Large Gaping Holes, there is likely to be found a contraption that is used to dig roads. Quite what is left to dig up is not clear to anybody, including the person who is sitting in the only seat available on that contraption – which perhaps explains the perennially confused expression on his face.
Our romp through this dystopian wonderland next takes in vehicles that are parked next to the Large Gaping Holes. Now, nobody accused the road that used to be here of being a broad thoroughfare in the first place. With the unloved presence of the LGH’s however, there exists even lesser place for cars, but that doesn’t deter the more intrepid spirits among us. They will park their vehicles, two and four wheelers alike, and go on to their merry way.
Roughly every twenty minutes or so, the traffic police will wearily make their way up and down the road, attaching jammers on vehicles, and one can therefore every twenty-five minutes or so witness a brief but exciting discussion between the vehicle owner and the traffic police.
Completing the ensemble of characters in our little three act tragedy are the pedestrians and people in cars, buses and two-wheelers who pass through what might still be charitably called a motorable stretch.
How long has this been going on, you ask? Well, how many ways are there to spell eternity?
Now, all of what I have just described is hellish enough, but what do we amateurs know? The Authorities are made of sterner ambition.
And so, a couple of days ago, there wafted across the breadth of this scene of carnage the unmistakable aroma of cooking gas.
An earth mover being used in this ongoing festival of lunacy had managed to damage a natural gas pipeline, which was now effusively spewing forth a gas famed for its combustible properties.
Disaster, it turns out, wa averted this time around, but we keenly await the next flash of inspiration when it comes to what used to pass for a road.
Smart? You don’t know the half of it!
He doesn't expect the paradox to be resolved in his lifetime
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