TT 2/2 | Accident

Thrissur Traffic Chronicles: An Accident Waiting to Happen (And it did)

 

So, here we are. Part 2 of my long rant about Thrissur's charming traffic situation. I mean, who would’ve thought that after my passionate blog post on how much I hate the traffic, the traffic would come back to bite me? Quite literally.

 

Yes, ladies and gents, I, the fearless Thrissur traffic crusader, met with an accident. There I was, minding my own business on a busy junction (which one? Take your pick – they're all chaotic). And BAM! Some careless driver slammed into me from behind. Next thing I know, I’m on the ground, leg fractured, all wrapped up in a plaster for the next 4 weeks. Ah, the sweet irony of life.

 

Now, I’m not one to brag, but this accident has turned me into something of an authority on all things traffic-related—mostly because I’m currently bedridden and have nothing better to do than think about it. I’ve become a full-time couch potato, working from 8 AM to 5/6 PM, and in my free time, I’m binging biographies, watching reruns of The Office (n minus 100th time ig), and—this is how bored I got on a weekend—making a heat map in Excel to track interactions among the characters from The Office. Yeah, I’ve gone that far down the rabbit hole. But let’s not dwell on my post-accident hobbies now.

Let’s talk more about Thrissur's traffic problems and driving culture—because this whole mess as I had delivered a tirade on about bad roads isn’t just about potholes and signals. It’s about the drivers themselves. 

First off, let’s address the elephant in the room: Kerala’s fascination with speeding and overtaking in the most impractical places. I mean why would you bother with overtaking when you’ll be stuck at the next signal in 30 seconds? It’s like running a marathon only to stop at every chayakada for a chaya-kadi/chaya-cigarette break. People here drive like they’ve got some sort of racecar bloodline, but all they’ve got is a broken bumper and zero sense of timing.

 

Then there’s the overtaking dance on the narrow roads. Ah, the joy of being sandwiched between a bus trying to merge into your lane while a scooter weaves past on the other side. The concept of a “lane” in our roads is as mythical as MP SuGo's Kochi-Thrissur Metro. Cars, bikes, and buses will shove their way through gaps that should logically be reserved for ants, all while honking like their life depends on it. 

Then there's the typical tyranny of the driverhood —the kind that lets them park anywhere they want. Sidewalk? Sure. Middle of the road? Perfect. Double parking? A work of art. Why bother with parking spots when you can create one wherever your heart desires? എവിടെ ചിന്തിക്കുന്നുവോ, അവിടെ...

But the true pièce de résistance of Thrissur’s traffic is the junctions and roundabouts conundrum. How to drive in a roundabout is an alien concept even for the above average drivers. No channelized entries or exits. And we’ve got massive roundabouts, small roundabouts, and random bumps in the road that people treat as roundabouts. And while they might make for a scenic view (especially when you’re stuck there for 20 minutes), they’re also the perfect breeding ground for accidents.

 

To sum it up, Thrissur traffic is a lot like life: unpredictable, chaotic, and ready to knock you down at any moment :'). But hey, now that I’m temporarily disabled (courtesy of a certain careless driver), I have more time to plan, conspire, and maybe even start a campaign to send my "brilliant" traffic management ideas to the PWD. Who knows? If enough people pitch in with solutions, maybe we’ll see some changes—or maybe we’ll all just end up honking our way through another roundabout.

 

But don't stay tuned for Part 3, cos I'm done with blogging about traffic.