All of us who have been on the roads of Gurgaon are familiar with potholes. A pothole is defined as a hole or pit caused by wear and weathering of a road surface. They are sometimes filled with water, mud or gravel and can cause hazard to cattle and vehicles. Clearly, not something you would allow your BMW to consort with. My initial acquaintance with potholes was from the backseat of my car. I felt them as a rude jolt or a sudden shudder. However, after driving around for the past year, I have developed a strange relationship with them. Potholes are like visiting in-laws or income tax. Though I try to avoid them as much as possible, when left with no option, I try to summon up the forbearance and fortitude to manage them. After several close encounters, I have realized that potholes have been much maligned . There has been call for strong action against them but I now know that they serve a larger purpose which is not always clear to the motorist or walker who is selfishly only concerned with the physical state of his body and vehicle. The pothole teaches and reinforces several valuable life lessons and philosophies.
All men (and women) are created equal
The potholes are a great leveler. It doesn’t matter if you are driving a Mercedes or a Maruti 800, the Great Gurgaon potholes bring every vehicle to its knees. Even the most sophisticated shock absorber is no match for the bump and grind routine of a well endowed pothole. Every passenger endures the same
stomach lurching, liver churning, teeth clattering ,bone rattling experience while driving through a clutch of craters. In fact, the pain the owner of a brand new BMW feels while submitting his vehicle to the road is much more than that of the driver of a battered second hand car. The humble cyclist can nimbly dodge the pothole and look down upon the car driver as he trundles helplessly into the pit and feel a thrill of satisfaction.
All is Maya- Everything is an illusion
There I was chugging along what seemed like a smooth road, happily listening to the FM, humming Moves like Jagger when suddenly my little Beat, moved like it been hit by a large rolling stone. I had not seen the pothole until it was too late . The average driver is distracted by passing pigs, the pretty girl in the passing car, the pesky policeman who is trying to challan every passerby or the Gujjar Boy who is practicing for Formula One in his souped up Scorpio. Thus are we distracted by the veil of illusions in this world. During the monsoons and foggy winters, the veil of illusion grows thicker, more impenetrable. We are lulled into a false sense of security until harsh reality jolts our fenders. We must at all time be alert and mindful. He whose consciousness is not free from base attractions will succumb to the delusions of this material world and his car will succumb to the base materials used on the road.
The only thing constant is change
While the average life expectancy of people in India has increased thanks to medical advances, the life expectancy of Gurgaon roads seems to have declined. Nothing is permanent. Road repairs are even more impermanent. I see the road rollers and workers engaged in some patch up activity post the monsoons but within a year, the road has become a mess of holes again. Just when I had made friends with the potholes on the road in front of my apartment, they started destroying the entire road. The road has been under reconstruction for the past few months leading to more traffic jams and heartache. Now I am not sure whether the road that does come up will withstand the onslaught of weather and traffic.
This shining stretch of tar is not a friend of trucks and cars. Even as the body does weaken and decay, so does the road slowly wear away. Just as happiness is followed by sorrow, a road today becomes a pothole tomorrow.
The next time you pass a pothole, pause for a moment and thank it for making a philosopher out of you.
