Living in Bengaluru all my life, one thing that has stayed constant is how Rajakaluves make me feel.
The sight of water always excites me, and yet they would let me down every time – unclean, smelly, and strewn with garbage, a sore sight to anyone who passes by. Yet there is so much life thriving around them. Designed to prevent the city from being taken over by rainwater, the Rajakaluves do their part (mostly), but they could do so much more for us.

When I participated in the citizen audit of the Hebbal Nagawara Valley, led by MOD Foundation as an initiative of Building a Resilient Bengaluru, I was thrilled. Like-minded individuals who cared about the city and its future came together to document and share stories about these humble drains – extensively spread far and wide, part of our everyday lives, whether we acknowledge them or not.

As we walked along the drain and noted different parameters, one thing stood out above all: how dynamic the conditions around them were. Every 100 metres revealed a new typology of public space. Sparse stretches of road gave way to community spaces overlooking the water, religious structures sitting quietly adjacent, buildings and compound walls flanking either side. The bridges crossing them were just as varied — some large and flamboyant, built to carry vehicles, while others were meek, just enough to let two people pass at a time. Parking lots occupied awkward slivers of land beside the drain, where workers and labourers could be seen resting in the shade. Wild plants crept along the edges and sometimes into the water itself.

My favourite sighting was a temple and a masjid standing side by side – and as if to bring the space together, people had built small pedestals along that stretch and placed potted plants on them. The questionnaire we were filling out asked whether we could spot any benches nearby. We couldn’t find any, but at multiple spots we came across old sofas that had been left there, and we found ourselves wondering:if only they were intentionally placed in better conditions, could we not simply sit down and relax, just for a moment?

Walking away from the audit, I couldn’t stop thinking about how close these spaces already are to being something more. With initiatives already envisioning rajakaluves as third spaces for the city, the more we understand the life that already exists around them, the better we can shape them into spaces that are softer, more intentional, and genuinely for people.

Maybe one day, walking along a rajakaluve in Bengaluru won’t feel so different from strolling along a canal in London.