Sunday, 13 July 2025
Sunday, 13 July 2025
Road torn apart using hands
How long should it take before you can start tearing apart a road by hand? Centuries, you say? Well, in Maharashtra's Nanded, all it took was a month.
In a video, a man can be seen sitting down on a brand-new road in Biloli Taluka and, with the casual energy of someone peeling an orange, begins ripping the road up with his bare hands.
Chunk by chunk, the asphalt lifts right off, revealing a sad patch of stones underneath.
The road, connecting Dugaon in Nashik to Dongargaon in Pune, was freshly built a month ago. Potholes began popping up within days.
Villagers have seen this before. In 2023, villagers in Jalna district cheerfully peeled off the top layer of a road like it was wallpaper, exposing cloth layered underneath. The sort of thing you’d use to clean a car, not drive over it.
A man tearing up government infrastructure like its tissue paper might just be the most honest performance review a contractor’s ever received.
Because when a road lasts less than your phone’s warranty, someone’s definitely cutting more than just corners.
Nuts about Jal Ganga
In Madhya Pradesh’s Shahdol, a Jal Ganga conservation event turned into what can only be described as a five-star feast for government officials and a khichdi camp for the masses.
At Bhadwahi Gram Panchayat, top district officials gathered for a “Bori Bandhan” programme meant to save water. But it’s the dry fruits that really stole the show or rather, the budget. Viral bills claim they managed to sip down 6 litres of milk tea infused with 5 kilos of sugar and ate 14 kilos of dry fruits.
The shopping list reads like a North Indian wedding menu gone rogue — 30 kg of snacks, 50 packets of puri-sabzi, 20 packets of biscuits, and dry fruits worth nearly Rs 20,000.
But the villagers said they only got plain old khichdi and puri. Not a single cashew in sight.
Turns out, while the campaign aimed to conserve water, the only thing truly conserved was the menu for the public.
Drunk-driving on railway platform
At 3am on a quiet Thursday in Gwalior, passengers at the railway station witnessed something Indian Railways never promised: door-to-door car service on the platform.
A white car rolled in confidently from the Jhansi end, like it had mistaken itself for the Shatabdi. Behind the wheel was a man freshly fuelled by heartbreak and alcohol, never a great combo, unless you're writing a sad song or making a very poor decision.
According to Sub-Inspector Ravindra Singh Rajawat, who stopped the car before it could attempt to overtake a train, the man had fought with his wife and, in a drunken burst of logic, thought she might be waiting at the station. Naturally, he decided the best way to find her was to drive onto the platform.
The Railway Police removed the vehicle, took the man into custody, and confirmed via medical test what was already obvious: the man was sloshed.
Railway spokesperson Manoj Kumar said, with saint-like patience, “There might be a wife-related issue, but bringing the vehicle onto the platform is wrong.”
Which, when translated from Bureaucrat to English, means: Your heartbreak is your business. But next time, don’t take Indian Railways down with you.
