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ഈ Video കണ്ട ശേഷം ഉള്ള സംശയം. Service Road One Way ആണോ അല്ലയോ?

https://redd.it/1mzuo52
@r_kerala
Thanks NHAI, Now we have a safe and secure home to live in. /s
https://redd.it/1n00oqp
@r_kerala
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രാഹുലിൻ്റെ രാജി ആവശ്യപ്പെട്ട CPM വനിതാ നേതാക്കൾ മുകേഷിനെതിരായ പീഡന ആരോപണത്തിൽ സ്വീകരിച്ചത് തണുപ്പൻ നയം

https://redd.it/1n07vqf
@r_kerala
ശിവന്റെ വാഹനമായ കാളയെ ഉപയോഗിച്ച് പ്രതിഷേധം, മതവികാരം വ്രണപ്പെട്ടു; യുവമോര്‍ച്ചയ്‌ക്കെതിരെ യൂത്ത് കോണ്‍ഗ്രസ് പരാതി
https://redd.it/1n0c8a4
@r_kerala
😁3
How do they select contestants for Bigg Boss?
https://redd.it/1n0e79d
@r_kerala
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The CBE- Mettupalayam road is blocked everyday in the morning and night for a special VVIP!! The theatrics of this video is stunning!

https://redd.it/1n0evyg
@r_kerala
The Google Maps detour that cost us ₹1,100 and our sanity

TLDR;

Google Maps led us onto a nightmare farm road "shortcut" to Wayanad. The car got completely stuck in mud, locals charged ₹1,100 for a 5-sec tractor rescue. After 1.5 hours of stress, the detour just dumped us back on the same highway past the toll we never meant to avoid.

Warning: Avoid any left turns near Bheemana Beedu toll plaza on the Gundlupete-Wayanad route

(Picture attached)

A few weeks back, while on a road trip to Wayanad, Mom and I decided to break away from our usual Ooty drive-through. This time, we chose the Gundlupete, Chamarajanagar route. Everything was perfect until Google Maps decided to get... creative.

We were cruising smoothly on the Kozhikode-Kollegal highway from Gundlupete, heading toward Wayanad Wildlife Sanctuary. We'd just passed those stunning sunflower fields and were approaching the Bheemana Beedu toll booth when Google Maps suddenly insisted we take a left off the highway.

Now, I didn't think it was trying to dodge the toll. I hadn't enabled that option, and we'd already sailed through two or three toll plazas. So, trusting technology over instinct, I swung left onto what appeared to be a narrow, dusty sand road.

First mistake

A few meters in, Mom voiced what we were both thinking: "Are you sure this is right?"

I brushed off her concern, convincing both of us that since this wasn't our familiar territory, we should trust our digital guide.

Second mistake

As we ventured deeper, the road began closing in around us. Our compact SUV barely fit between the boundaries. Farmland stretched endlessly on both sides: the right side a treacherous mess of mud and slush, the left somewhat manageable, and right down the middle, tall grass that threatened to scrape our car's belly.

By now, turning back wasn't an option. The road had narrowed to the point where a U-turn was impossible. We were committed to this mystery route, whether we liked it or not.

Strangers we passed gave us those looks, the kind that said, "What are you city folks doing here?" Then we encountered some construction workers. Sticking my head out the window, I asked the million-dollar question: "Can we actually drive through this route?"

The first guy nodded confidently. The second shook his head, citing the treacherous slush ahead. But under pressure from his colleague, the skeptic reluctantly agreed. Green light secured, we pressed on.

Third mistake

The slush worsened with every meter. Our car began sliding unpredictably, fighting for grip on the unforgiving terrain. Determined to avoid the worst of it, I steered toward the left side and...

THUD.

We weren't moving anywhere.

Heart sinking, I stepped out to assess the damage. Our front left wheel had plunged into a disconnected pathway section, tilting the car at a precarious angle. Dense bushes concealed a trench on the left. The front end was buried so deep that only our number plate remained visible above ground.

I tried gunning the engine. The tires spun uselessly, finding zero traction. We were officially trapped.

Within minutes, our earlier advisors reappeared, the same two guys from the construction site. Their expressions danced between sympathy and barely concealed amusement as they muttered in Kannada mixed with Malayalam about "another toll-dodging attempt."

"You'll need a tractor," they declared. "One thousand rupees."

Then came the kicker: "Actually, in the past few days alone, five cars have gotten stuck on this exact route. Three right where you are now." They paused for dramatic effect. "You're lucky it's broad daylight. Just recently, some youngsters got stranded here at midnight and had to sleep in their car until morning."

As if the situation wasn't dire enough, they casually mentioned the price had inflated. "Twelve hundred rupees now. Take it or leave it."

What choice did we have? Mom suggested they could just help us push the vehicle out, but they dismissed the idea. "Only a tractor can save you now."

The wait began. One agonizing hour later, we heard the rumble of
our salvation approaching: a tractor making its way from Gundlupete.

But here's where the story takes an unexpected turn: our rescue crew consisted entirely of teenagers. The oldest couldn't have been more than fifteen. They treated the operation like a video game.

They secured ropes from our car to the tractor's rear. I slipped back into the driver's seat, shifted to reverse, and held my breath as the tractor began pulling.

Five seconds. That's all it took!

Five. Seconds.

One rope, one reverse gear, one throttle push, and done.

The second guy we'd met earlier insisted the tractor escort us to safety at the road's end, but the others assured us the tar road was just ahead. After one final negotiation (getting them down to ₹1,100), we thanked our teenage saviors and prepared for our grand exit.

"Drove off" is too generous a description.

The remaining stretch was still treacherous. At one point, I was convinced we'd gotten stuck again, but somehow we powered through those final nail-biting minutes until asphalt appeared beneath our tires.

The irony? This elaborate detour deposited us right back onto the main highway, past the very toll we'd never intended to avoid. We'd spent an hour and a half covering roughly 400-500 meters, not to mention the stress-induced gray hairs we'd probably sprouted (geographical pun!).

A word of warning for fellow travelers: If you're driving from Mysore or Tamil Nadu via Gundlupete toward Wayanad, resist any urge to follow mysterious left-turn suggestions near the Bheemana Beedu toll plaza. I've already submitted this ordeal to Google Maps as a cautionary edit, and they've accepted it. After checking from two different devices, that detour no longer appears as a suggestion.

But if it still shows up on your screen, consider this your official heads-up to ignore it completely.

The Gundlupete route itself is actually superior to our usual Ooty path. Just stick to the roads that were actually designed for cars, not farming equipment and adventurous teenagers with tractors.

https://preview.redd.it/440yky890clf1.png?width=1018&format=png&auto=webp&s=cf6ed370a60d25afa3d24bbfd975287de452c54a

https://preview.redd.it/9xip5e2a0clf1.png?width=1050&format=png&auto=webp&s=0720566d3dce26b3aa7a6fbbf3a22f239b412aec



https://redd.it/1n0h1s7
@r_kerala
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NRK woman acuses Rahul Mamkoottathil of inappropriate behavior amd advances.

https://redd.it/1n0j5ny
@r_kerala
2025/09/30 06:23:00
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