January 17, 2025
This Terrible Place
How do I even speak when no one is ready to listen?
How do I express this pain, this suffering from the coldness around me?
Why is this city moving so fast, leaving me behind?
Why does no one show any mercy, any kindness?
My body is exhausted from the endless days in this city.
I know this place isn’t meant for me, so why am I forced to stay?
I can't speak to my company about my struggles,
Because I've signed a bond, bound for one year.
Is this a curse upon me? I’m sure this punishment isn't deserved.
How terrible my situation is—only I know.
How tragic the lives of some people—
I think of those whose lives are truly in danger.
I feel like I’m fighting for my life every day in this chaotic traffic,
Even though I’m new to this city,
I’ve learned that in Bangalore, peace is a luxury.
They fight for a parking spot for five minutes or two minutes,
While the pollution suffocates me,
Not because of the air, but because I’m yearning for my mother’s love and hugs.
At times, I feel like crying on the road.
And for a girl, doing fieldwork here is a struggle—
Where are the washrooms? Where do I eat my lunch box?
Even when I sit quietly to fill my starving stomach,
There are eyes watching me, eyes that I can feel staring—
Devil’s eyes, surrounding me.
Oh, God, this city is killing me inside every day.
The constant honking at every signal only makes it worse,
Filling my mind with chaos.
Where has people’s common sense gone?
The worst part of this city isn’t just the mess;
It’s the rickshaw drivers,
Who scream and cheat at every turn,
And the deceitful people scattered all around.
I could bear this busy city,
But I can’t bear hurting myself,
Fighting through the traffic each day—
Even though I’m not routine for this culture, I am trapped.
Oh, God, every day, I feel the suffering,
The pain in my head, the fear in my eyes,
Because of the merciless way people act.
Bangalore, a city where educated people come to work?
Is this really what education means?
It should be reflected in behavior, not just in folded papers.
I beg my inner self to get through this bond—
So I can escape this devil’s city,
This city without mercy or ears to listen.
I am crying and cursing this place for its indifference.
But I hold onto one hope—
That this time shall pass.
Better days are coming for my innocent soul.