Buying a House Without Infrastructure: Bangalore’s Real Estate Illusion
Buying a House Without Roads: The Great Urban Illusion
My family and I were invited for a house-warming ceremony yesterday. My distant cousin has finally managed to buy a flat in one of the recently sprung-up areas of Bangalore.
I was actually looking forward to the visit. I was curious to see the ‘new’ Bangalore — the one constantly advertised as the city’s future. I should have known better. Disappointing would be a mild word. Disgusting is closer to the truth.
The Reality Behind the Gated Promise
Crawling traffic. Non-existent roads. No proper water supply. Erratic electricity. Difficult access to even basic community services. Zero access to immediate medical care. The list writes itself, and still feels incomplete.
What struck me most was not just the absence of infrastructure, but how casually it has been accepted. This is not a temporary inconvenience, not a phase of transition. It is a way of living that people have convinced themselves is normal — even aspirational.
Why Are People Still Buying?
And yet, flats in these areas are selling like there is no tomorrow. Why? The great real estate rush in Bangalore has convinced people that owning four walls is more important than what surrounds them.
The logic is always deferred to the future. Roads will come. Hospitals will come. Schools will come. Water will come. Planning is replaced by hope, and hope is sold very efficiently by builders and brokers.
The Cost of Normalising Inconvenience
And because nobody protests, nobody demands, nobody insists — nobody plans. When residents accept dust roads, water tankers, power cuts, and two-hour commutes as inevitable, there is no pressure on authorities or developers to deliver anything better.
A Vicious Cycle That Refuses to Break
It is a vicious cycle. People buy because prices will rise. Infrastructure is delayed because people have already bought. Accountability disappears because possession has already been handed over.
This cycle may never be broken — not because it cannot be, but because inconvenience has been fully normalised in the pursuit of ownership.
Nuggets of Sholay #1: One Oont Pahad Ke Neeche Nuggets of Sholay #1: One Oont Pahad Ke Neeche (ओँट पहाड़ के नीचे) I must confess, starting this series of Nuggets of Sholay has been immensely joyful. Every line I researched, every scene I analyzed, brought me closer to the genius of Salim–Javed. Muhavra: One Oont Pahad Ke Neeche (ओँट पहाड़ के नीचे) This proverb literally means “a camel under a mountain,” describing something impossible or absurd. In Sholay , this phrase was delivered with perfect comic timing. The story behind the muhavra: Once upon a time, there was a proud and arrogant camel. He strutted around the village, convinced that no creature could be taller, stronger, or more important than him. Every other animal bowed, every human smiled nervously, and the camel’s ego swelled bigger with each passing day. One day, the camel’s owner decided it was time for...
Pather Panchali (1955) Review | Satyajit Ray’s Poetic Debut Pather Panchali (1955): Satyajit Ray’s Poetic Debut Why on earth had I not watched any Satyajit Ray film till now? Puzzles me. But I'm setting out to watch every film made by the great man. Pather Panchali is my kind of cinema. Simple, yet complex. Subtle, yet bold. Rambling, yet assertive. The story is quite loose and banal, but it is the telling of the story that makes an impact. What drew me to the film is the play of characters, and the attention to detail. Your heart goes out to each of the pivotal characters — Sarbajaya , the forced matriarch; Durga , the dreamy daughter; Apu , the boy turning into a man; and Indir , the penniless beggar. Each of them tells their own story, not through words, but through their eyes and body language. Usually, in a film, you can make out the star of the show, but you can'...
Nuggets of Sholay #3: Loha Garam Hai, Maar Do Hathoda | Sholay Proverb Explained Nuggets of Sholay — Three: Loha Garam Hai (लोहा गरम है, मार दो हथौड़ा) The third nugget in the Nuggets of Sholay series is another muhavra — and a shining example of Salim–Javed’s brilliant writing. Muhavra: Loha Garam Hai, Maar Do Hathoda literally means “Strike while the iron is hot.” Timing is everything — the English equivalent would be “Seize the moment.” In the film, the line appears around 1h 49m . Girija from Pipri brings word that Gabbar’s nomadic arms suppliers — Hira aur uske saathi — have been spotted nearby. Thakur predicts Gabbar’s next move and says, “ Loha garam hai, maar do hathoda. ” The phrase originates from the craft of the lohar (blacksmith) — who must strike the iron while it’s red-hot. Once it cools, it loses its shape. The brilliance of Salim–Javed Why Thakur uses it: He senses the perfect timing. Who bri...
Sachit Murthy — Writing on Cinema, Cricket, Travel, and Life in India
This blog brings together essays, reviews, and observations on cinema, sport, travel, and everyday life in India. It moves between detailed writing on Indian and world cinema, reflections on cricket as culture and memory, travel notes from cities and small towns, and personal pieces shaped by living and working in contemporary India.
Film writing on the blog ranges from close readings of classic and modern films to broader reflections on performance, narrative, and form. Cricket appears not as statistics or news, but as lived experience — a shared language of time, obsession, and belonging. Travel pieces pay attention to place, atmosphere, and the small details that define movement and return.
Underlying these varied subjects is a consistent interest in observation: how people speak, perform, remember, and negotiate their inner and public lives. The author’s background as a stage and screen actor, writer, and voice artist informs the attention to rhythm, silence, and point of view across the writing.
The blog is intended for readers who enjoy reflective, unhurried writing — pieces that sit somewhere between criticism, travelogue, and personal essay.
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