Hyderabad roads leave experienced biker with fracture, shattered sense of safety
Motorcyclist Gayathri Natrajan, after a devastating accident on Hyderabad’s poorly maintained roads, calls attention to the city's unsafe infrastructure. She criticises the disregard for traffic laws and the resignation of citizens, urging authorities to take action for safer roads
By Ali Raiyan
Hyderabad: Gayathri Natrajan, a motorcyclist seasoned by India’s toughest terrain, including Ladakh’s passes and Gujarat’s deserts, suffered her most devastating accident not on remote trails, but on the familiar, poorly maintained roads of Hyderabad. A routine ride through the Shaikpet area ended abruptly when her bike hit a pothole.
The impact fractured Gayathri’s leg, halting her career as a singer and consultant and requiring a year-long recovery. “I’ve ridden through some of India’s toughest terrain,” Gayathri says, “But Hyderabad feels uniquely dangerous. That pothole was purely because the basic infrastructure failed. How is that acceptable?” People here drive on the wrong side, ignore rules constantly, she points out and asks, “Do those responsible for our roads even care if citizens get home safely?”
The spot in Shaikpet where the accident occurred.
Having recently returned to Hyderabad, Gayathri finds navigating the city confusing and stressful due to unclear, incorrect, or missing signage, unlit U-turns, and persistent road hazards. “Why has this chaos become normal?” she questions.
What troubles her the most is public resignation to these dangers. Hoping for safety, she bought a car, only to have it repeatedly scratched in traffic. “We just shrug and say, ‘It’s Hyderabad,'” she observes with concern. “Minor dents, near misses, actual accidents… Why do we accept this dangerous disorder?”
Now, every journey fills her with anxiety due to incessant honking, vehicles crowding perilously close, and constant swerves to avoid gaping potholes. “Every trip feels like a battle,” Gayathri says. “I experience near-accidents almost daily. It feels like only a matter of time before someone is seriously hurt, or worse. When will someone take action?”
Her plea to authorities is direct: “Can’t you repair the lights? Fill the potholes? Enforce traffic laws? Don’t the people of Hyderabad deserve roads that don’t break our bones or our spirit?”
For Gayathri, Hyderabad’s broken roads symbolise a question: Is the city failing its residents, and is anyone listening to their cry for safe passage?
