If RK Laxman walked Bangalore today

Strap: A decade since his passing, how would India’s most beloved cartoonist sketch the story of a city in flux?

Byline: Bhuvana Shridhar

This year marks ten years since RK Laxman — the quiet man with the sharpest pen — left us. But what if he returned today, sketchbook in hand, wandering the streets of Bangalore? Would he beam at the glassy skyline, the Metro’s muscle, and the tech-fuelled swagger? Or would he shake his head, eyebrows arched, at potholes that double as swimming pools, half-finished flyovers, and a city bursting at its seams?

To find out, we asked those who walk in his footsteps — cartoonists and architects who, like Laxman, understand that cities reveal their truths not in speeches, but in squiggles, satire, and structure.

A Sketchpad That Wouldn’t Stay Shut

“If Laxman were here today, his sketchbook would be bursting before he got past one neighbourhood,” says award-winning cartoonist Raghupathi Sringeri, who’s known for weaving humour and satire into his work. “The chaos, the comedy, the heartbreak — it’s all right here. The potholes alone could fill a whole series,” he adds.

Sringeri imagines Laxman drawing the city’s rainy-day mess — headlights bouncing off puddles, fog hiding flyovers, two-wheelers navigating crater-sized potholes. “It’s not commuting, it’s an obstacle course,” he says.

But it wouldn’t be all gloom. “Laxman would find poetry in the contrast — the energy and the mess, the ambition and the apathy. Bangalore teaches you patience, and how to laugh through the madness. Maybe that’s the real infrastructure,” Sringeri adds with a smirk.

Seeing the City in Black and White

Architect and urbanist Naresh Narasimhan believes Laxman would’ve captured the contradictions of Bangalore like no one else. “He’d sketch a luxury high-rise next to a crumbling slum, a shiny new Metro station that leads nowhere, officials preaching ‘vision’ while stuck in pollution,” he says.

But it wouldn’t all be cynicism. “He’d draw the ones who care — the citizens, the planners, the architects still trying to save what’s left. Laxman’s strength wasn’t just in mocking what’s wrong, but showing that better is possible.”

Where Have the Trees Gone?

Architect Prathima Seethur says Laxman would’ve been heartbroken. “The city he once drew so fondly is now lost under concrete. His cartoons would show apartment towers stacked like boxes and people squeezed into lives they never imagined.”

She imagines one cartoon clearly – netas waving election promises like carrots, while people sink into cement around them. “Laxman would’ve said what no planner dares — that unchecked growth has stolen the soul of this city,” she adds.

From Garden City to Gritty Canvas

Cartoonist Naganath Gowripura thinks Laxman would be deeply moved — and not in a good way. “He’d draw JC Road stuck in traffic, Cubbon Park shrinking under new buildings, Ulsoor Lake dressed up as a water park. He’d sketch it, and we’d cringe,” he says.

For Gowripura, cartooning is more than art — it’s a way of questioning the status quo. “Laxman didn’t need to shout. His cartoons hit harder than most headlines. He’d show how the city’s race for modernity is coming at the cost of everything that made it special,” he points out.

The Final Frame

RK Laxman’s take on Bangalore in 2025 wouldn’t just poke fun. It would hold up a mirror. His sketches would call out the absurd, celebrate the resilient, and gently ask — are we still listening? You can almost picture it – the Common Man standing at a bus stop, umbrella flipped by the wind, drenched but unbothered. Maybe looking up at a flyover that leads nowhere. And maybe we’d laugh — not because it’s funny, but because it hits home.