500+ Words Essay on Autobiography of a Road
People write their autobiographies, so why shouldn’t I? I am on a busy road in Lake Town, Kolkata. I don’t know whether I should be proud of my current state or feel sad about it.
In my early days, my surroundings were not so crowded. There were ponds and trees here and there. In the midst of that, there was a sparsely populated colony. I wasn’t even metalled like I am now.
Day by day, I have been reformed. Not only am I metalled, but I have also been widened. Streetlights have been installed to illuminate me throughout the night. Various kinds of shops and houses, some of them multi-storied, now line my stretches.
My daily routine is now busy from dawn to midnight. Though vehicles are few in the early hours, morning walkers come out to stroll on my surface during the break of the day. Then children come to school, accompanied by their parents. As the day progresses, shops open their doors, and the number of vehicles increases, especially during the peak hours from 9 to 11 am. Traffic slows down comparatively at noontime, then picks up again from 2 pm to 10 pm.
I feel sad when I look at my deplorable condition, with so many potholes on my surface, especially during the rainy season. It becomes a danger to the traffic. Buses, lorries, taxis, and minibuses run at breakneck speed, causing terror to pedestrians. Drivers often try to overtake other vehicles and sometimes collide with one another, causing fatal accidents. Moreover, two-wheelers and autos pay little heed to traffic signals.
One day, a serious accident took place at about 10 am. A schoolboy of 15 was run over by a private bus. The bus was speeding when the ill-fated boy was crossing the road. Unfortunately, a book dropped from his school bag, and he stooped down to pick it up. Passersby raised shouts of alarm. The driver tried his best to stop but could not check the speed in time. The boy was run over, and his body became a lump of flesh in a pool of blood. He was taken to a hospital, and I don’t know what happened afterwards.
I have been hearing from time to time about several schemes to improve the transport system, but so far there has been no considerable improvement. I should draw attention to another important issue: traffic jams. Almost every day, long processions disrupt traffic, causing much harassment by paralyzing normal city life.
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I cannot help but recount some incidents that I witnessed off and on. Only the other day, a gun battle erupted in the morning as rival gangs fought for control of the market. The gangs grew so desperate that they did not bother with the cover of the night and clashed in broad daylight, causing men, women, and children to run for shelter. The violence lasted for an hour, but the police were nowhere to be seen.
Another incident occurred in the evening. A 45-year-old woman was getting down from a rickshaw when a miscreant suddenly appeared, snatched the gold chain from her neck, and fled. I feel extremely sad when I see eve-teasing by some wayward young boys.
However, there are some bright sides to my life. I have been able to facilitate communication in various aspects of people’s lives. Some go to the hospital through my heart to save a patient’s life; others go to school, college, and office for their daily business.
What I fervently hope now is that there will be no accidents, no violence, and no humiliation of women on my surface in the future.