What best describes Gurugram ; An excerpt from one of my friends

What best describes Gurugram ; An excerpt from one of my friends 👇 Gurgaon- a luxurious misery Gurgaon is that rare city where a single apartment can cost you ₹100 crores, but the road outside it looks like it was designed by an enemy nation. Realtors promise “world-class connectivity,” but the only thing connecting here is your car’s suspension to your orthopedic bills. This is a city that flaunts more Mercedes than Marutis, but the moment it rains, the same cars are reduced to crawling tractors, gasping in knee-deep sewage. The irony is stunning: German engineering meets Gurgaon engineering, and the winner is always the pothole. Drainage? The Harappans had it figured out in 2600 BCE. Gurgaon in 2025 still hasn’t. One decent shower, and half the city drowns in sewage-infested water. The “stormwater drains” are clogged with plastic, garbage, and the dreams of taxpayers. Residents wade through black water holding their shoes in hand, while SUVs stall like dead cattle. The only creatures thriving are mosquitoes, multiplying faster than the excuses of the municipal corporation. Garbage disposal? That exists only in textbooks. Here, waste lies on roads like permanent fixtures. Stray dogs rummage through it, cows decorate it, and humans step around it, pretending it’s not there. Every flyover corner is a dump yard, every empty plot a landfill, and every protest about it ends up… well, in the garbage. Streetlights? Brilliant in the day, absent at night. You’ll find every pole glowing when the sun is out, but come evening, the city slips into pitch-black darkness. The only reliable source of light is the theka — whisky shops shine so brightly they put Gurgaon’s nightlife to shame. If it weren’t tragic, it would almost be poetic. Manholes? They’re not covered, they’re death traps. People vanish into them during rains, strays get electrocuted by exposed wires, and yet no one blinks. Roads aren’t repaired, they’re patched like leaky buckets — a piece here, a patch there, until the whole thing cracks open again. And yet, Gurgaon is the cash cow of Haryana, generating maximum state revenue. The towers rise higher, the cars get flashier, the malls get glossier — but the ground reality stays rotting. It’s the golden goose treated worse than a stepchild, milked for every rupee but denied even basic dignity. The most tragic comedy of all? The people. Gurgaon has no shortage of bouncers ready to pick a fight outside pubs, but not one will stand up against civic neglect. Everyone complains, no one resists. The courage that erupts in parking lot brawls evaporates when faced with broken infrastructure. So here we are: a city that sells you “luxury living” in brochures but delivers a survival course in real life. Gurgaon isn’t just a city — it’s a satire that writes itself every monsoon, every blackout, every broken road. The tragedy isn’t just the crumbling roads or missing drains — it’s the silence of its people, who trade their right to dignity for the illusion of development. Gurgaon doesn’t need more skyscrapers; it needs a spine.