<p>The sink-and-float experiment had arrived at our doorstep even before we anticipated it!</p>.<p>It started on a naive note. My son and his neighbourhood friend spent the evening insisting that my husband and I entertain them with some classic childhood science experiments. The curious minds wanted to identify which objects sink and float after watching Ada Twist, Scientist on Netflix. After an exhausting workday, we responded with the standard adult vocabulary, stating, “Later.” “Tomorrow.” “Not now.”</p>.Parts of Bengaluru waterlogged after heavy rains; daily life disrupted.<p>Namma Bengaluru, as always, had other plans.</p>.<p>Soon, we noticed water slowly seeping in through the kitchen door from the backyard. The moment we opened the back door, water came gushing in, as though Bengaluru’s chaos had decided to enter our kitchen.</p>.<p>A broken pipe had made way for the water to flow into the kitchen and the dining room. My husband and I found ourselves literally playing sink-and-float using mops, buckets, wipers, and every cleaning tool available at home. Oh, what a sight it was! The children were awestruck, screaming, “There is a flood, there is a flood.”</p>.<p>Objects around us continued to float while our tempers sank as we conducted the experiment for our children, with no option left. I realised Bengaluru itself has become a huge sink-and-float experiment. Of late, not only the monsoons but also summers in our Kalyaninagara only test what survives and what gives way. </p>.<p>In our locality, BWSSB work has turned roads into an obstacle course. Our area became notorious for damaged drainage pipes, with the water getting mixed up with the regular water supply. Trenches were dug up to replace the pipes and resolve the issue, but because they were not properly covered, the rain caused water to clog, making the lane mushy. Auto rickshaws got stuck in trenches, resident vehicles were stranded, and tree branches and garbage floated on water, forcing residents to perform acrobatics while walking and driving on the lane. </p>.<p>As commuters, we have mastered the skill of fluid mechanics in the city during heavy rains. Which pothole is shallow enough to cross? Which vehicle ahead is about to splash onto pedestrians? Which route to use to commute today? </p>.<p>Like most Bengalureans, we have learnt to improvise and carry on.</p>.<p>Back home, the children eventually got their sink-and-float experiment. Just not in the stainless-steel bowls they had imagined.</p>.<p>By evening, the floors had dried, and life resumed with suspicious normalcy. Like every Bengalurean before us, we shut the door gently, prayed the water would stay outside, and carried on.</p><p><em>Disclaimer: The views expressed above are the author's own. They do not necessarily reflect the views of DH.</em></p>
<p>The sink-and-float experiment had arrived at our doorstep even before we anticipated it!</p>.<p>It started on a naive note. My son and his neighbourhood friend spent the evening insisting that my husband and I entertain them with some classic childhood science experiments. The curious minds wanted to identify which objects sink and float after watching Ada Twist, Scientist on Netflix. After an exhausting workday, we responded with the standard adult vocabulary, stating, “Later.” “Tomorrow.” “Not now.”</p>.Parts of Bengaluru waterlogged after heavy rains; daily life disrupted.<p>Namma Bengaluru, as always, had other plans.</p>.<p>Soon, we noticed water slowly seeping in through the kitchen door from the backyard. The moment we opened the back door, water came gushing in, as though Bengaluru’s chaos had decided to enter our kitchen.</p>.<p>A broken pipe had made way for the water to flow into the kitchen and the dining room. My husband and I found ourselves literally playing sink-and-float using mops, buckets, wipers, and every cleaning tool available at home. Oh, what a sight it was! The children were awestruck, screaming, “There is a flood, there is a flood.”</p>.<p>Objects around us continued to float while our tempers sank as we conducted the experiment for our children, with no option left. I realised Bengaluru itself has become a huge sink-and-float experiment. Of late, not only the monsoons but also summers in our Kalyaninagara only test what survives and what gives way. </p>.<p>In our locality, BWSSB work has turned roads into an obstacle course. Our area became notorious for damaged drainage pipes, with the water getting mixed up with the regular water supply. Trenches were dug up to replace the pipes and resolve the issue, but because they were not properly covered, the rain caused water to clog, making the lane mushy. Auto rickshaws got stuck in trenches, resident vehicles were stranded, and tree branches and garbage floated on water, forcing residents to perform acrobatics while walking and driving on the lane. </p>.<p>As commuters, we have mastered the skill of fluid mechanics in the city during heavy rains. Which pothole is shallow enough to cross? Which vehicle ahead is about to splash onto pedestrians? Which route to use to commute today? </p>.<p>Like most Bengalureans, we have learnt to improvise and carry on.</p>.<p>Back home, the children eventually got their sink-and-float experiment. Just not in the stainless-steel bowls they had imagined.</p>.<p>By evening, the floors had dried, and life resumed with suspicious normalcy. Like every Bengalurean before us, we shut the door gently, prayed the water would stay outside, and carried on.</p><p><em>Disclaimer: The views expressed above are the author's own. They do not necessarily reflect the views of DH.</em></p>
