Bangalore's weather

The thing about the weather in Bangalore/Mysore is that the weather is a non-issue.

You just don't think of it. You don't need to fight it. It is not constantly on your mind. You don't have to allocate any mental resources into planning your outfit, your footwear, your activities based on the weather. You can wear whatever you are in the mood for. It is not like you sit down to do something but half your brain is telling you that you are too hot or too cold, or your extremities need some covering up or airing.

You can just be.

The fact you don't have to think about Bangalore's weather is the most attractive thing about it.

The only reason that I'm (ironically) spending so much time thinking about Bangalore's weather is that I'm here after two years, and looking at it with new eyes.

Bangalore - Nostalgia

Two or three years ago, I wrote a piece on Bangalore, overcome by nostalgia for the old  Bangalore. It was lying in my folder, until now. Spark Magazine has published it in the Dec 2015 issue.

Do read.

Today

The weather today is like, if this had been Bangalore, I would have thought, "Hmm, it is going to rain today".

There would be a faint hint of petrichor in the wind, and a distant rumbling of thunder. The sky would be that beautiful shade of purple-grey. The wind would make the door slam loudly in someone's house. The household help of the aunty next door would hurry to the terrace to bring the clothes in from the clothesline.

Puttachi would call me from the clubhouse and sa...y that she felt a raindrop on her nose. S would call and say that he is on the bus and it is raining cats and dogs and that he is stuck at Silk Board. My mom would call and say, "I hear it is raining in your area? Not a cloud in sight here."

The house would darken suddenly, as if it were 7 pm, not 5 pm, and the skies would open up. I would make myself a cuppa and watch the rain.

But it is not Bangalore.

Winter mornings

I love winter mornings in Bangalore!

They are so bright, so happy.   An unbelievable amount of sunshine pours  in through the windows, and yet there is a definite nip in the air.  Look outdoors and the world seems to be painted with such clear, firm strokes - no fuzzy outlines anywhere, like a photograph taken with absolutely clear focus.  Even my brain shifts into clear, sharp mode - and there is no place for lethargy.

I feel like running outdoors and feeling the sunshine in my fingers, and in my hair.  Every day is perfect for a picnic.

It's got to be one of the best things about Bangalore - these wonderful winter mornings.  

A lovely day.

When I was a kid, I frequently read sentences in English books on the lines of "What a fine day for a picnic!" or "What are you doing indoors on a beautiful day like this?"

I'd think, "What is a beautiful day?" I'd look out of the window, in then beautiful Bangalore, and think, well, today's a nice day, a good day for a picnic, I'm sure, but so was yesterday, and the day before, and so will tomorrow be, and the day after. So what is all the fuss about?

Ever since I landed in England, two weeks ago, it has been cold and wet. Finally, on the 8th, my cousin V's birthday, the sun came out. We had been on a fabulous walk by the riverside on Henley-on-Thames. The sky was clear, the sun's rays were warm upon our backs, and I said, finally with complete understanding and appreciation of the term - "It was a glorious day!"

A morning walk with a difference.

I took one of the Bangalore Walks on Saturday - The Traditional Bengaluru one.

Taking a guided tour in a new city is a beautiful experience, yes. It is a journey of discovery and learning. But to take a guided tour of your own city? That is nothing less than enthralling. It is like being taken around your own backyard, and being pointed out treasures you never knew existed.

I will not give away the secrets I learned about Bangalore. I suggest you go discover them yourself. But all that I seemed to keep doing was say, "Really? X played a part in the design of Bangalore's sanitation? Wow!" "Oh, I've passed this place a dozen times - I had no idea it was so unique." "Man! Such a historical spot, right next door to me!"

I felt pretty much the same way while I read "Bangalore through the Centuries" by M.Fazlul Hasan, but this was first-hand experience, and that made it much better.

It helped that our guide, Savita, is very obviously passionate about Bangalore and its history, and some of the things she said gave me an idea of just how much research and planning has gone into the development of this park. A wonderful effort.

It doesn't matter if you are new to Bangalore, or have lived in Bangalore all your life. I suggest that you go take one of these walks. It is well-worth the time.

Bannerghatta National Park

When I was in Mumbai, a colleague of mine once told me that she had lived her entire life in Mumbai, but hadn't been to Juhu beach. I fell off my rotating chair in shock. But that is how it is usually, isn't it? For example, I have been to Bannerghatta National Park on the outskirts of Bangalore only twice in my life, and I don't even remember the last time I have been there, whereas tourists and visitors make a beeline to the place.

Anyway, I amended that this weekend. S~'s cousin has adopted a Russel's viper and a Python at Bannerghatta, and so he has been given a pass. He asked us if we would like to join him, his wife, and his five-year-old son Ani on Sunday to go to Bannerghatta, and we jumped at the offer. Considering how much Puttachi likes animals, it is a shame that we haven't taken her to any animal place after her Mysore zoo visit. So this was an opportunity we couldn't miss.

We reached at about 9 am, and debated a bit about taking the safari ride, wondering if Puttachi would have the patience to sit in an enclosed place for more than an hour. But Ani was insistent, and so we went. The Safari turned out to be just wonderful. We saw Bison, Spotted Deer, Nilgai, Bears (Teddy! Teddy!), Elephants, Lions and Tigers. Yes you heard me right. And a couple of white tigers with an ordinary tiger were playing with each other and jumping about, actually enacting a Discovery Channel scene right outside the barred window of our bus. Magnificent sight, magnificent animals. Puttachi went crazy with excitement.

After the Safari, we went around the zoo. Puttachi saw birds, snakes, rabbits, deer, zebras, monkeys, Indian Giant Squirrels (never seen them before - they are huge!), elephants, turtles, crocodiles, alligators, and coriander-eating hippopotamuses. Oh and have you ever seen a baby hippo? Adorable!

It was lunch-time by the time we finished. The Park by itself doesn't have any eateries inside it, but people usually bring their own food and eat it inside the park. There are a few stalls outside the park which sell snacks, but I don't think you get a filling lunch there. So we ate at the restaurant at the Jungle Lodges and Resorts, attached to Bannerghatta. The food itself was not too good, but we were too hungry to care. The resort, though, is very good. Built at a slight elevation, it is spacious, bright and airy. Very refreshing. Staying there for a night would be an attractive option, I think.

After lunch, we went to the newly built Butterfly Park, the first in India, I hear. The Park enclosure itself is very green, well-maintained, with well-laid paths. The actual conservatory is a domed structure. Entering it is like entering one of these "paradise" scenes in movies. A lush tropical environment, with a stream and a waterfall, with the rich gurgling sound of falling water providing a perfect backdrop. Lots of flowers, and of course, scores of butterflies flitting about all around you. If you stand still, they actually come and alight on you. There are boards with butterfly information amidst the plants, and so you can actually see a butterfly and read about it at once. It is lovely. Puttachi had a fabulous time. Since we had been there in the comparatively hot afternoon, the butterflies were at their most active, I think. Exit the conservatory and you enter a museum of sorts, with loads of information about butterflies, and different kinds of butterflies on display. There is also a room with an audio-visual presentation of about 20 minutes. Quite informative, if you have the time and the inclination, and if you don't have a tiny human tugging at you constantly.

It was a day well-spent. The entire Bannerghatta Park is far more well-maintained than I had imagined. Oh, and I have to mention this. At the entrance of the Park, there is a lady sitting with a number of paper bags. She checks your bags, takes out all the plastic bags and puts the contents into paper bags and hands them back to you. And this includes Lays and Kurkure and Haldiram Packets and the like. She cuts them up with a pair of scissors, empties the chips into the paper bags and gives them to you. I liked that. Inside, we learned that a deer had died a while ago due to plastic consumption, and hence the extreme precautions.

So that was it. I would recommend a visit. But do go early to avoid the rush. Have fun!

Bangalore to Mysore

Some of the high points of my hitherto mostly uneventful life are journeys from Bangalore to Mysore. They have always been special because Mysore means to me - holidays, lazing around, getting to meet grandparents and cousins and aunts, eating good food, and generally having fun.

And the journey to Mysore has always been sweet - the anticipation, the excitement....

My first memories of going to Mysore consist of getting up at unearthly hours to catch the 4 45 am bus from near our home, that went directly to Mysore, with a stop at the main bus stop. So my parents would pull us out of bed and drag us, half asleep, to catch this bus, telling me that I could sleep on the way (which I usually did). There was a corresponding bus (at a slightly more earthly hour) from Mysore back to Bangalore. These early buses ensured that we reached our destination very early, and had the whole day ahead of us. But the buses those days weren't as comfortable as they are now - but they would do - after all, it was a journey of just about 3 hours. I would sleep for the first half of the journey, and wake up when the bus stopped half-way at Maddur. I would then eat the sandwiches that my mother had packed, and then doze fitfully for the rest of the journey. My mother, usually travelling with two small kids and a fair amount of luggage, never got down from the bus during the ten minute stop. But when my father was travelling with us, he would get down to stretch his legs, and I would be paranoid that the bus would leave without him. I would be jittery and keep looking out of the window to keep him in my sight, and my pulse rate would come back to normal only when he got back onto the bus.

But the 4 45 bus service from near our house was discontinued, and then we would have to go all the way to Majestic to catch the bus. But since we anyway had to go to Majestic, we started going by train, because we enjoyed it more. Oh the excitement! Rushing in to the compartment and grabbing two window seats - one for my sister and one for me, better still if the window seats were west-facing (so that the sun wouldn't blind us as the journey progressed). Settling in, keeping the luggage away, removing our footwear and sitting on the seats, and looking out of the windows. Wait desperately for the train to start, and when it did, stare mesmerized at the huge city of Bangalore. Know that we have left Bangalore, at the stench of the city sewage canal. Watch the landscape unfold. The green paddy fields, the bushes and shrubs, and then the distinctive rocky landscape of Ramanagaram. Watch once again as the rocks fade away, giving rise to the same kind of hypnotic landscape, the sapota trees, the coconut trees, the toddy palms, the wild flowers, an occasional lake or stream, a hillock or two with a temple right on top, the stations, some small, some big, but all the same.

None of the stations held as much interest as that of the Maddur station, simply because of the vendors selling hot Maddur vades. How our stomachs would growl and mouths water at the tantalizing fragrance! But our mother would refuse to buy it for us, stating lack of hygiene as the reason. She would say that she would make it for us after we got to Mysore. We would just have to be content to dream about the hygienic Maddur Vades we would get at home, and do with watching our co-passengers gobble down the Maddur Vades and wiping their fingers on the oily paper. Once, just once, our mother astonished us by buying us Maddur vades at the station. We went mad with joy, and wolfed down the oily vades with glee.

But what she did buy for us regularly were the roasted groundnuts, peddled by a toothless old man, mumbling, "Kallekaaaayi, kallekaaaayi." We would buy heaps of groundnuts, and crack each nut laboriously, to eat the delicious nuts within. We would then wrap up all the shells carefully in paper to dispose of later. A few years later, a young boy replaced the old man, and we were told that the old man had died and this boy was his grandson. We bought the groundnuts anyway.

The landscape, meanwhile, remained unchanged, until, of course, we reached the island town of Srirangapatna. We would pass the Kaveri river twice with a deafening clanging, and we would peep out to see how many of the rocks in the rocky river was visible, and exclaim at how much rain or how less of it had fallen that year.

When we had passed the Kaveri the second time, we would grow dizzy with excitement and impatience, because it meant that Mysore was just a stone's throw away. And sure enough, as the first clumps of homes and buildings came into view, we would start putting on our shoes and taking the luggage down, and start jummping up and down. As the train rolled into the station and stopped, we would jump out and rush to the auto stand to find the auto that would take us to Ajji-Tata's house. The superb culmination of a wonderful journey.

But we've hardly travelled by trains in the last five-six years. With roads getting broader and better, and the cars getting faster, we have been driving down to Mysore. But my excitement remains unabated. I love getting up in the cool of the morning, loading things into the car, and setting out on the smooth drive, punctuated only by a stop at Kamat Lokaruchi or some other popular highway restaurant for a mouthful of delicious breakfast, and some steaming coffee.

I guess the journey to Mysore, for me, will always be sweet.

Balding

A couple of days ago, we were driving down Sankey Road, and we reached one of my favourite stretches - the magnificent tree-lined curved stretch right next to the Golf Course.

And my heart stopped. And broke into a million pieces.

The trees - those glorious, majestic trees, with their green, leafy branches stretching out to the sky - those trees, whose cool shade gladdened the hearts of a million passers-by - those old, beautiful trees - they were gone. All gone. And what remained, were just stumps.

Victims of road-widening.

How many beautiful memories that road holds for me! That time when our car broke down in the middle of a major thunderstorm, and we had to stand in the foyer of Holiday Inn(Now Le Meridien) until a tow vehicle came to tow our car home - with us inside!

Or the relaxing, lazy evening drives with S~ - at the beginning of our relationship - when fresh May showers had cleansed the entire world..... and everything looked so beautiful. Where the swaying, freshly-washed green branches seemed to be waving to us and celebrating our new beginning.

I used to remember all those things every time I drove down this road. Will I ever remember them the same way again? I try - and all that comes to me in my mind's eye - are stumps.

I have seen way too many old friends die to make way for steel and concrete. The old trees on Race course road to make way for the flyover. The beautiful Gulmohars on the service road on Chord Road, to make way for the Navrang Underpass.

And now, the trees next to the Golf Course.

All in the name of development. I know, I know. I myself have experienced the ease of crossing that Navrang signal in ten seconds, where it would have taken ten minutes.

I am not against development per se. But really, at the cost of how many trees?

Abhipraya puts it aptly - "Bangalore, I am told needs more space to breathe. But what are we going to breathe?"

I still love Bangalore, I proclaim. But do I? Probably, what I love is the Bangalore of fifteen years ago. But what remains of the Bangalore of then is just the shell. Then what am I in love with? Just the name? Or just the memory?

Of Nobel laureates..

So, it turns out that Leonid Hurwicz, the Economics Nobel laureate is known to my Dad's maternal uncle, and he has even had dinner at my dad's cousin's place. That is probably the closest I have come to knowing a Nobel laureate.

Unless, of course, one of you in the future becomes a Nobel laureate. Then I can open my blog (if it still exists and if I remember the url), and show people your comments and say, "Oh, s/he was my blogger pal!" And if I win a Nobel, you can go ahead and flaunt my name, I will not mind.

Ok, back to Nobel laureates. Actually, coming to think of it, I kind of know another Nobel laureate. Or rather, a Nobel laureate's home. My school was adjacent to C.V.Raman's compound (now all you North-Bangaloreans know where I did my schooling!). My classmate in primary school, let's call her Sma, lived in the outhouse in that compound. C.V.Raman's large house, situated in the middle of that huge compound, was uninhabited,, and always locked.

Now this compound contained a variety of trees - jackfruit, mango, silk-cotton, tamarind, and many more - it was actually a mini forest. A beautiful green place in the midst of busy Malleshwaram - we all envied Sma.

I would go to Sma's home to play sometimes, after school or on the weekends. Sometimes our games took us to the main house. We would play in the wide, sweeping portico, with the thick columns and pillars. We would go round the house and try to peep in at the windows. Once, looking at my enthusiasm, Sma's father got the key, opened the doors and let me look inside. It was large, spacious, with a high roof - a typical old-style home. The furniture was heavy, luxurious. The sofas had long, curved handles and printed cushioned seats. CV Raman's armchair was very heavy, dusty, and broken. His writing table was large and foreboding. I sat on his chair, sat at his table, and felt very important indeed.

The memory of that house still gives me the creeps, for some strange reason. It was obviously once a very beautiful and elegant and house, but it seemed to be falling apart - dusty, musty, and echoing with our hushed voices.

So there ends my tryst with Nobel laureates.

My sis and I had once chalked up a plan on "How to win a Nobel". We listed the categories and contemplated upon which Nobel it would be easiest to win. We first struck out Physics, and then went Chemistry. Medicine fell next. Economics wasn't even in the reckoning, as we had no idea what it even meant. All that was left was Literature and Peace.

Literature shouldn't be so difficult - just write a few books and you are good to go. But Peace, we decided, was the easiest. All we had to do was preach peace with zest, and we would be awarded the Nobel. (We were just 11 and 7, please!)

I still have a fascination for the Nobel, and am in awe of Nobel laureates. I am sure some of you are out there rubbing shoulders with Nobel laureates. When my sis got an admit to Stanford, somebody told her that in that University, if she stood in the cafeteria line, the guy in front of her and the one behind her would be Nobel laureates. I don't think that has happened to her - yet.

So, do tell me - have you met/interacted with Nobel laureates? If yes, who, when, how, where?

Loudspeakers and the police.

So it is that time of the year when Ganesha pandals are put up and a lot of ruckus is made in his name.

As usual, a function is going on about a kilometer from my parents' home, where I am staying now. The music was so loud that I could not hear myself speak.

As usual, calls were made to the police. Not one, not two, but a dozen. And not just by us, by many of our neighbours.

As usual, it was of no use. [Ok, this is slightly unfair of me. There have been times when the police have gone and switched off the music or lowered the volume].

Anyway, today, this is what happened:

7:30 pm - Call made to local police station, they say they would dispatch a Cheetah (police patrol mobike) immediately.

7:45 pm - No change in situation, another call made. Policeman says that the association has already taken permission and they cannot do anything. When asked whether the permission includes blaring loudspeakers at unspeakable decibels, there is no satisfactory answer. They say that the Cheetah has gone elsewhere, they would dispatch it as soon as it gets back.

8:00 pm - No change in situation. My dad personally goes to where the function is going on, and makes a request to the organizers to lower the volume. They say they will, and dad comes back.

8:05 pm - No change in situation. Just as I put my baby down on the crib, Himesh starts howling, and my baby wakes up bawling.

8:10 pm - My parents decide to call 1-0-0. It is busy. Yes. 100. Busy. This wasn't an emergency, so it is okay. What if there had been a burglar in the backyard? What would I do? "Please wait, Burglar Uncle, 1-0-0 is busy. Let me search the directory for other emergency numbers". How on earth can 100 be busy? Are they nuts? Shouldn't they have enough lines to cover any and all calls originating in this burgeoning city?

8:15 pm - My parents call the DG's office. Policeman answers politely, says he understands, and that permissions don't mean that they can play music so loudly, and says that he will dispatch a Hoysala (Police Patrol 4-wheeler) immediately.

8:45 pm - No change in situation.

9:00 pm - My baby still bawling, I call the local police station. As I start to complain, the policeman says, "Some people are having some entertainment, why should so many of you call and complain". My BP rises. "Can you hear a baby crying? She cannot fall asleep because of the noise. If some people want entertainment, why should others suffer? What are you police for? Please do something!" Policeman's tone changes. "Oh baby not sleeping? Tch Tch... will dispatch a Cheetah immediately". I recognize the tone. Indulgent. I hang up, without much hope.

9:15 pm - No change in situation. Call again to the local police station. Same reply. Wonder how many Cheetahs are bounding about this area, if they are to be believed.

9:45 pm - Put on loud, soothing music to cover the other noise. The baby falls asleep, more out of exhaustion than anything else.

10:00 pm - No change in situation. Another call to police station. Aren't loudspeakers banned after 10 pm? Ah yes, madam, we will dispatch a Cheetah right away.

10:30 pm - Volume slightly lessened.

11:00 pm - Function concluded, and then silence. Golden, golden silence.

Please draw your own conclusions. I'm off to bed.

Water, water, everywhere....

It has been pouring non-stop for the past couple of days. But even I was taken aback when this photo jumped out at me from the front page of the newspaper today. Hosur road flooded with water, and these people are moving about in coracles. Coracles! On the roads of the Software City's IT hub!!

Everything else apart, the first question that popped into my head was - Where did they get these coracles?

Bangalore does not have any rivers in its immediate vicinity, other than Vrishabhavati [1], (in which no one in their right mind would willingly go riding on coracles), and I don't think any coracles go about on Bangalore's lakes either. Then, where did these coracles come from?

Did some enterprising businessman start transporting coracles to these IT offices the moment it started raining? Or wonder of wonders, have companies started storing coracles?

Maybe companies have included this in their disaster management plans, something like - 20 coracles should be stored in the basement to ferry employees when the roads get flooded during the monsoons.

Who knows?

On another note, two nights ago, after attending to the Little One when she woke up for her night feed, I felt hungry and popped in at the kitchen for a drink of warm milk. As I sat sipping the comforting liquid, I watched the rain. I saw gallons and gallons of rain water flowing down the road. Some of it will seep underground and groundwater will be replenished. Yes. But how about the other water? So much water going down the drain - literally. How much opportunity there is for rainwater harvesting!

Fact: Bangalore receives about 970 mm of rainfall every year. The number of rainy days is close to 60 (over a period of eight months). 54 percent of the rainfall is due to the south-west monsoon. Rainfall in Bangalore can be expected to arrive on time, and without fail. Due to these extremely favourable conditions, rainwater harvesting is a viable solution to the city's rainwater harvesting problems. In fact, it has been estimated that over 40 percent of Bangalore's water requirements can be fulfilled by Rainwater Harvesting.

Fact: A 100 square meter rooftop can yield upto 90,000 liters of water annually.

Fact: Bangalore is the first city (in India) to include rainwater harvesting in its byelaws. The law says that “ every building with a plinth area of exceeding 100 sq mtrs and built on a site measuring not less than 200 sq mtrs shall have one or more Rain Water Harvesting structures having a minimum total capacity as detailed in Schedule”. This specification also means that adapting rainwater harvesting costs less than one percent of the total cost of the construction.

A lot of information can be got from the Rainwater Club.

[1] Vrishabhavati was a beautiful river, which is now the sewage and effluent canal for the city.

28

.....Give or take two, is the number of traffic signals I encounter on my way back home from office. Of course, we don't stop at all of them all the time. We stop for just a few seconds at some, and are stuck for upto 20 minutes in others. But that is Bangalore traffic for you.

And in case you are wondering, yes, I actually counted.

An open request from a Bangalorean.

A request
To those residents of Bangalore, who haven't been living here for long, and hence do not consider themselves Bangaloreans,
To those who consider themselves Bangaloreans, but who do not think too high of the "localite" or "Kannadiga".

* I know you have been inconvenienced by the recent riots in Bangalore, and I know that it was unnecessary. The reasons for the riots were many - most of the rioters were just drunken rowdies out to have a good time. Added to it, total mismanagement by the police, resulted in a totally chaotic situation, which caused agony to many. You have every right to bemoan your fate, and discuss about how silly and pointless everything was. But please refrain from making sweeping and unfair generalizations about how "Kannadigas are blind and crazy", "South Indians are movie fanatics", and more than that, please do not bestow rude epithets on the Kannadiga.

* Please note that Bangalore is what it is because of the localites. Bangalore houses you, clothes you, and feeds you, and it houses the concern where you earn your daily bread. The office has been set up here in the first place because of the conducive atmosphere of the city and its (once) salubrious climate, and the welcoming and hospitable attitude of the local populace. If the localites seem hostile to you now, it is because of built up frustrations over a long period, resulting from the hostile and superior attitude that most of you might have displayed.

* Hindi might be one of the most widely spoken languages in India. But the localites need not know Hindi. It is the mother tongue of only a few of you, and you cannot expect everybody to know Hindi for your convenience. Try speaking in English, and if it doesn't help, then learn Kannada. Learning new languages is good for the brain too.

* Bangalore is in India too, but there are cultural differences from place to place. Your natural confidence and open body language is more often than not, construed as arrogance, high-handedness and superiority here. This is not taken too kindly by the localites. Try to be polite. Even if you do not know the language, make sure you use "Thank you" and "Please". The localite is basically a good person. He will respond in kind. [This Thank You and Please will go a long way anywhere. It's called the lubricant that makes the world go round!]

* Do not make fun of the South Indian accent. For your information, the accent you are speaking with, is not too great either. Some English sounds are not present in Indian Languages. Kannada and other South Indian languages do not have the sound "o" as in North. Some of us tend to pronounce it as "Naarth". Some of you cannot say "school", you say "ischool". You think the pronunciation of "bear" is like "beer", but it is not. "Entry" is pronounced as "Entry", not "Antry". Just as some of you cannot speak good English, some of us South Indians do not speak Good English. We are all Indians trying to speak a foreign language. All of us are in the same boat.

* Yes, we speak Hindi with a funny accent. We pronounce "hai" as "hy", because the sound "ai" is not there in Kannada. But we do not know how well you speak Kannada because you do not even try. Even then, try making the "L" sound with your tongue rolled. You will find it very difficult. Because that sound is hardly used in most of your languages.

* Yes, there are rude and greedy localites. There are cheats, there are thieves. Like there are, everywhere. If they seem more rampant here, that is because it is proportional to the population. And because the disparity between the rich and the poor is ever-increasing, this will also increase.

* Yes, the infrastructure is bad in Bangalore. The planners of Bangalore never dreamt of this kind of a population. Even now, enough efforts are not being taken. There is inefficiency, and carelessness in the way things are being dealt with. We are also being as inconvenienced as you are. Stop the ceaseless complaining, or do something. [This applies to the localites too.]

* Bangalore is not a hotel. You are not paying to stay here, and hence there is no point in expecting some kind of special service from the place. It is a place like any other.

* Yes, there are many things wrong with Bangalore. LIke any other place. If you had great expectations from the city, then that is your problem. Try instead, to find out what is right with it, and enjoy your stay here. But also note that most "outsiders" do not return to where they come from, and make this city their home. Warts and all.

We are all Indians, for heavens' sake! Let's not waste our time in demeaning each other, and instead, try to understand, respect and appreciate each other.

NOTE1: You are welcome to comment on this, but let us all refrain from name-calling, and too broad generalizations. Let it not get ugly. Let's have a healthy discussion. Extreme regional or parochial statements will be deleted, whether it is from an "outsider" or a "localite".

NOTE2: If you want me to add anything else, please leave it in the comments. I will update it.

Bangalore vs. Mysore

I am going to treat you to some numbers.

Taking into consideration the least expensive mode of transport every time, I am going to compare the costs of going to watch a movie in Bangalore, and going all the way to Mysore to watch the same movie.

(All costs in Rupees)

Going to watch a movie in Bangalore.

Location: Inox, Garuda Mall.
Bus fare from home to Garuda Mall: 10 + 10 = 20 [We have to change buses]
Ticket = 150
Bus fare from Garuda Mall to home: 10 + 10 = 20
TOTAL: Rs.190

Going to Mysore just to watch a movie.

Location: Sterling, Mysore.

Bus fare from home to Bangalore Railway Station = 10
Train fare between Bangalore and Mysore = 50
Bus fare from Mysore Railway Station to Sterling = 8
Movie ticket = 35 (Balcony)
Bus fare from Sterling to Mysore Railway Station = 8
Train fare from Mysore to Bangalore = 50
Bus fare from Bangalore Railway Station to home = 10.
TOTAL: Rs.171.

A difference of Rs.19, favourably tilted towards Mysore.

Now, considering the fact that I usually travel by autorickshaw within the city, and not in bus, and substituting auto fares for bus fares everywhere [Won't bother you with further calculations], the price comes up to
Bangalore - Rs. 350.
Mysore - Rs. 300

Now if you say that I will be saving time by watching the movie in Bangalore, let me tell you that it will take me a total of 6 hours to go up and down from Mysore by train, and it will take me 4 hours to go to Inox and come back, in peak hour traffic.

Next. A visit to a very upscale beauty parlour in Mysore, cost my sister, my aunt and me, the same amount that I would have shelled out only for myself, if I visited my next-door-not-very-sophisticated-parlour in Bangalore. And we finished the whole thing in 1 hour flat, including commuting.

If you want to go anywhere in Mysore, the auto fare won't be more than Rs.30. In fact they say, "Oh that shop is very very far away. Almost thirty bucks by auto!". For me in Bangalore, a place 30 bucks away is my backyard.

I can go on and on giving you examples, but it hurts me all the more to put it all in writing. So I will stop here. The only thing I can say, is that it is worth taking a Friday off and making a weekend trip to Mysore once in every three months, and finishing all your work and getting back. Other than the inexpensiveness and convenience, an added advantage is the huge amount of fun I have with my aunt and cousins, and the utmost pampering I get from my grandparents.

I rest my case.

Driving me crazy

Thought it is time to write about all the drivers who have driven me.... nuts. Before you think I am a bigshot who has a personal car and a driver, let me clarify. I am talking about the drivers of the company cabs, in which I spend half of my life on Bangalore roads, commuting to and from office.

Each driver is a specimen, worthy of being immersed in formalin and placed on the shelves of my memory.

There was one fellow, who was so slow that it seemed like the whole world was passing you by. He drove like he was window-shopping on M.G. Road. Not that he was so conscientous and followed traffic rules. He just probably thought that the whole road was his kingdom, and thought he was on an elephant, a king out to survey his country. I used to get home so late that even my poor mom would have lost patience and had her dinner. The last straw was when a bullock cart overtook us. We immediately went and demanded a change in driver for our route. And we got it.

The next guy was the opposite. Probably the supervisor thought, do these people want a fast driver? Here is Schumacher. He zoomed in and out of the traffic like a maniac. I started wondering why 42-seaters mazdas don't have seat belts in each seat. All you could do was just grip the seat in front of you till your knuckles went white, and pray to God to deliver you safely to your doorstep. It was like a roller coaster, where your body turned and twisted with each movement of the cab. Then he would flout traffic rules. He would jump red lights, drive on the wrong side of the road, change lanes, everything possible. And his style of driving was accelerate-brake, accelerate-break. When I started getting RSI in my back, I went up to him and told him politely to go slow. Now he was a huge, well-built man, and he glared back at me and told me, "I just feel sorry that you live so far away from office, and want you to get home early and spend time with your family". Now who could disagree with that logic? Besides I was scared of him. Finally someone made an anonymous call to the company administration department, and told them that he was nearly run down by a cab, and gave the cab number of this guy. The driver was changed, and my life was spared.

Then came a guy who was fond of changing radio stations. He would concentrate more on the radio than on the road. He hated slow, melodious songs, and loved the dhinchak-boom-boom ones. The moment a nice soft song started, I would smile and settle down to listen to it, and he would change the station, and my ears would burst. If there was an ad-break in the next channel, he would change the station again. If he reached a channel which was in the middle of a news-program, he would wait just until the point where the newsreader said - "In Cricket, India playing against Pakistan scored - " Bam. Station change. We used to scream and scream until he heard us over the din of traffic, and then he would change it back, just as the cricket news got over. We could not even sleep. The constant changing of stations was nerve-wracking. We split our throats trying to tell him to stick to one station. And the worst part is, complaining to the cab supervisor about him was not easy either. What do we say? "He is a good driver but he changes radio stations". Duh.

Anyway, we thanked our stars the day a different driver drove us, probably as a stop-gap arrangement. Now most drivers think they know best about roads and directions, which may be true to a certain extent. But this driver had the greatest ego ever. He snapped at us if we tried to show him the route, or tell him to go this way or that way to avoid a signal. I was the last person to be dropped off, and when we reached our area, I wanted to take over and guide him. There was a flyover being built, and the whole place had become a maze of one-ways. Only a person who knew the changes and traveled regularly could find the way. I started giving the driver directions. He ignored me. He did not even acknowledge me, he just drove on.
I said, "Hey listen, listen... you should have taken a left there!"
He said, "I know madam, I know this area, I will take you to your place".
I fell silent. Soon enough, he got lost. He drove back and got stuck in one more one-way. He got totally confused. I tried again.
"Just take a... "
"No! I know the way".
Fine. Suffer. I sat back and enjoyed myself as he took the cab round and round. Then I suddenly realised that I was the one getting late. I tried again.
"Take a right here". I said.
"No, I know madam.." he persisted.
I went, and sat right behind him. I assumed my most menacing tone.
"Do you want to lose your job?" I hissed.
He finally established eye-contact with me.
"No", he said.
"Then take a right here." I continued in the same voice.
He obeyed. Five minutes later, we were at my house. If he had continued on my route, I would have probably complained, but I have never seen him again.

The next driver brought rainbows to our lives. He was the Perfect Driver of your dreams. He was very fast, but not rash. He drove smoothly, followed all traffic rules, found out little streets into which he could manouever his 42-seater and avoid all the major signals. He was polite, friendly, stuck to one radio station ;). He did not lose his cool in the Bangalore traffic. Horns and people shouting did not faze him. He had complete control over his vehicle. AND he got us home 40 minutes before anybody else could. Life was beautiful. But all good things have to come to an end. I got married, moved to another place, and now belong to another cab route. [Note to the hubby: I do not mean to say that I got married and hence all good things came to an end. Well, you know what I mean :)]

But since my new home is much closer to office, commuting time is much lesser. So it hasn't been that much of a problem either. And on some days, to my delight, the perfect driver is assigned to my route, and I reach home at least 15 minutes earlier. Which in itself is such a lovely thing.

Now I am travelling for the next month from my parents' place, and the Perfect Driver is sometimes assigned to this route. And I save 40 minutes on those days. I complimented the Perfect Driver on that, and he told me, "Why don't you ask the supervisor to make me permanent on this route? You can save 40 minutes every day." Now if he is made permanent for this route, he will not come to drive us back to my regular route and I will not be able to save 15 minutes on that route. Now I am in a dilemma. Do I want to save 40 minutes a day for the next 4 weeks, or do I want to save 15 minutes a day intermittently, note, intermittently after the 4 weeks? I have to go now and talk to the cab supervisor..............

Bangalore's traffic - laugh it off!

Check out this set of jokes on a cool new blog!

Where is my Bangalore.....

Where is my city
The place that used to be
Where is my Bangalore
The valley of endless breeze
Has it turned to dust
Or can I still live my dream....

Asks a plaintive voice on radio every evening. It is an ad for a residential complex. The developers claim that their complex brings back the Bangalore of yore for you, with clear air, pristine lakes and green parks.

Each time the singer goes "Where is my Bangalore..." I get all teary-eyed and lumpy-throated and it's all I can do to keep my cab-mates from noticing me sniffling. And this happens every time I listen to the song. Actually I had no idea that the change in the city has affected me so much. It is this snippet of a song, this one line, that has shaken me up.

The popular image of Bangalore is now all glitzy and glamorous. The city that has made it's mark on the so-called software map, the city to which thousands of people head to for lucrative careers, the sleek glass buildings housing software companies, the glitzy malls and the flashy pubs and....... the pollution and the daily traffic snarls and crumbling infrastructure,

I have lived in Bangalore all my life, and thats a lot more than two decades. My Bangalore was cool, calm and quiet. The roads were so empty that my mom could, without any fear whatsoever, push my little sister along in her pram when she walked with me to school or to the nearby shops. The shady, tree-lined avenues with a thick green overhead canopy burst into flower in season. Flaming red Gulmohar, striking yellow Tabebuia, soothing lilac Jacaranda - all rubbed branches with each other and vied for centerstage. Come one shower, and these flowers descended delicately on the black tarred road, resulting in a beautiful multi-hued carpet. Cold mornings in winter, where we kids turned out in warm clothing and blew "smoke" out of our mouths and gulped down fresh, clean air by the lungfuls.Mist hung over the lakes. The lakes themselves were clean, pure, pristine, skirted with trees of various shades of green. The roads were clean, empty, more than wide for the existing vehicles. Travel was a pleasure (It used to take just under an hour to go from one end of the city to another.) All around were known, familiar faces, with no traces of surliness, Small-town hospitality was abundant. Crimes were few and far between.

Even now, if you go to one of the bylanes of an old locality like Malleshwaram or Jayanagar, stand under a tree on a silent morning and close your eyes, you can feel the old Bangalore. It is all around you, hovering in these streets, wondering where to go. The new Bangalore probably frightens it. But the old-timers do not allow the old one to disappear. They clutch it close to the heart with a fierce love. The same love that wells up in my heart when I hear "Where is my Bangalore"...

Bengaluru for sale!

For three lakhs of rupees.

That's the price for which the Mughals sold Bengaluru to Chikkadevaraya Wodeyar - back in the 16th century. Can you beat that? :)

Oh by the way I read this in a book "Bangalore through the Centuries" by M.Fazlul Hasan. It seems to be really interesting. I just started, and found this snippet. In fact there are loads of other interesting facts in the book. I will make up a list and put it up once I finish the book. Watch this space.

[Clarification - Bangalore has not yet officially become Bengaluru. I am just referring to it as that, coz I am talking about the 16th century :)]