Picture this: a 300-km highway transformed into a standstill spectacle under the Sankranti sun. The Hyderabad-Vijayawada corridor, India’s busiest freight and passenger route, is grappling with a deluge of vehicles as the festival peaks.
Overnight parking lots have sprung up spontaneously near rest areas, with families turning delays into impromptu picnics. The rush peaks around noon, fueled by urban dwellers heading to ancestral villages for authentic celebrations. Stretches near Addanki and Guntur are worst-hit, with ambulances struggling to weave through.
Police have resorted to U-turns and one-way enforcements, while cranes clear errant heavy vehicles. ‘Volume is 3x normal,’ confirmed NHAI project director Srinivas Reddy. Apps like Google Maps show crimson reds across the map, rerouting savvy drivers to state highways.
Sankranti’s allure lies in its rustic charm—harvesting fresh rice, preparing sweet pongal, flying colorful kites, and racing decorated bulls. It’s a time when cities empty out, villages fill up, blending tradition with modern mobility woes.
Women clad in new sarees balance trays of offerings, children wave kite strings from car windows, and radios blare festive songs amid honks. Support services include mobile medical units and water tankers combating the heat.
Tomorrow promises more of the same, with return traffic adding layers. Travelers share tips online: leave early, carry snacks, use carpooling. In this symphony of horns and hope, Sankranti reminds us that some journeys are worth every minute of wait.