‘Tis but a drop.

And on Delhi roads, that basically means you’re fucked.

Our bizarre, half-baked infrastructure has ensured that we don’t need a deluge to have traffic problems. 

A lack of basic funding, official apathy and civic agencies eating up money meant for the fixing of potholes has rendered us immobile and unsafe. A single spell of rain can unearth the level of disrepair our public roads are in. It doesn’t just get us late, it can also cause accidents and a host of other problems. Repair work is seldom seen.

Somehow, a 2-minute squall is all it takes to form a 2-hour jam.

It’s not a fun 2 hours either, revelling in the pleasance of the petrichor.

It’s an infuriating cycle of pain – your feet sore from switching between the pedals, your voice hoarse from shouting bh*nchod to weaving motorcyclists. 

What a mess.

It’s inexplicable. It literally makes no sense. And yet, every fucking time, without fail, there’s a traffic jam as soon as it rains.

A light drizzle is all it takes for Google Maps to tell you there’s heavy traffic in your area. It’s like a giant middle finger from the heavens.

There’s fuckall you can do about it too. You just gotta resign yourself to the fate of the masses and hope you hit the jackpot one day. 

Then you could buy a chopper and whizz over the top of all the snails below.

If you’re in a cab coming back from Gurgaon and it rains, say goodbye to the rest of the day. You’re in the quicksand, and help ain’t coming for a while there, partner.

You’ll check Facebook, and all you’ll see is more updates from people stuck in the jam. Then your phone dies and takes a bite of your sanity with it.

It’s just something that happens without fail, and while I hate normalising the unpleasant, by now, it feels like I’m gonna be stuck in this jam for at least a few years longer.