The Traffic Podcast

Siddharth’s podcast began with a sincere plan to make useful observations about city life. His friend Anjali said this sounded promising, provided the useful observations were shorter than the explanation he had just given her.

He named the series Between Signals and wrote an opening script in a notebook. It contained words like rhythm and belonging. He imagined listeners nodding thoughtfully while doing their dishes.

For the first episode, he booked an ordinary cab journey he already needed to make near Bellandur. He was a passenger, wore his seat belt, and asked the driver, Haroon, whether quiet recording in the back would disturb him. Haroon said it was fine, but asked not to be included in the recording. Siddharth agreed and kept the microphone focused on his own voice.

The equipment was small and secure. The ambition occupied more space.

He began: “Every city has a rhythm.”

A horn sounded outside.

He paused and tried again.

“Every city has—”

Another horn interrupted.

Haroon kept his eyes on the road. Siddharth looked at the notebook and wondered whether the city had objected to the opening claim.

He did not raise his voice to compete. Instead, he stopped recording and waited. The queue remained stationary. The horns seemed less like warnings than people announcing their opinion of the available space.

When the sound eased, Siddharth abandoned the script and described what had happened. He talked about trying to produce a calm introduction while the road offered a different tone. The result was shorter, funnier and considerably more recognisable than his original paragraph about urban rhythm.

Anjali listened to the draft later and laughed.

“This one sounds like you.”

“The other one also sounded like me.”

“Yes. At a panel discussion you weren’t invited to.”

He accepted the criticism after a brief period of defending the notebook.

For later episodes, he recorded from a quiet room or a safely parked place after his journeys. When he wanted another person’s story, he asked them clearly and arranged the conversation away from the driving task. The podcast did not require secret recordings or a distracted driver to be interesting.

Haroon eventually agreed to a short conversation during a proper break, with the car safely parked and his participation entirely optional. Siddharth asked what passengers most often misunderstood.

“That another route must exist because they want one,” Haroon said.

Siddharth put down his prepared questions. This was better than his fourth paragraph about mobility.

The episode went well. Listeners liked the small, specific observations: people describing pickup points badly, bags left behind, the relief of a passenger who simply confirmed the destination and let the driver work. No real passenger was identified. The humour came from recognisable situations rather than exposing somebody’s private embarrassment.

He also learned to leave silence in the edit. Not every pause needed another thought laid over it. Anjali said this was the most surprising improvement in somebody who had previously filled a kettle’s boiling time with a complete theory about neighbourhood design.

One listener wrote that the series helped make their own commute feel less lonely. Another requested longer episodes. Anjali recommended treating the second request with caution.

Siddharth kept the episodes modest. He wanted a pause in the day, not another obligation disguised as content. At the end of each one, he reminded listeners to give the road their attention if they were driving and save the episode for a suitable time.

Months later, he found the first script and read the opening line aloud at home.

“Every city has a rhythm.”

From the next room, Anjali made a single, perfectly timed horn noise.

He closed the notebook.

Some co-hosts understood the format instinctively.

Read when you’re a passenger or safely off the road. Never while driving.