A b'lore night

Bangalore is beautiful at night. Minus the noise, minus the chaos, minus the confusion – Bangalore is beautiful at night. As my work cab trudges along seamlessly along the smooth roads, there are so many sights and sounds to behold. The man with his midnight-foodstall hoping for one last customer before he can shut shop, men and women who come out of their office for a  smoke-break, a lone couple holding hands, and the doggies on the street gearing up for gang wars.

Flickering street lamps, orange traffic lights, cruising cars that make the most use of empty roads, near-empty bus stands, twinkling temple bulbs, a lone Bollywood number playing on a TV set somewhere,  a pressure cooker whistle, and a howling dog.

Massive trucks that honk endlessly,  a sad ambulance without its siren,  a man taking his dog for a walk, pungent smell of garbage, a hotel kitchen prepping for the morning, scavenging birds,  a lone cow, and distant laughter.

There is hope for a better tomorrow. There is joy in the night that is ending. There is peace on the quiet roads. It makes you feel all alone. And somehow, it is not too bad. Bangalore is beautiful at night. 

Another move...

In my ambitious effort to move on to ‘bigger and better things’, I just moved to Domlur. Of course, I can vouch for the ‘better’ but ‘bigger’ I have my own doubts. I just moved into a nice, little place with pink, cream, white, and blue walls – as opposed to the orange monopoly that was thrust into my face for the past year. I can’t really say that I miss the open spaces, eerily quiet nights, and absolute lack of human presence for days together, that Whitefield gave me – but I do miss it for everything else that shaped the last year up for me.

The new place is centrally located with plenty of supermarkets and eateries, well-connected to the rest of the city, and also is a very peaceful residential area. I live right next doors to a small temple, so I can hear the temple bells and the chanting of mantras all day long (shortcut to Moksha probably). Also, I have to cross a cow shed and a few cows too to reach the house – my dad took this opportunity to aptly name the place Jerusalem. Indeed, it does resemble Jerusalem, because there is such peaceful co-existence between the cows, the birds that peck them, the doggies that curl up next to the cows for some warmth, and a lone, stray, fearless cat that bosses the rest of the animals around.

Once I cross Jerusalem (holding my breath of course for better Nirvana), I can see huge trees with white and yellow flowers, the sole Banyan that graciously bears the playful squirrels scurrying across, little children playing on the roads, the gossip club with old ladies clad in long robes (often irreverently called a Maxi), the permanently parked water lorry with a man screaming in rapid Kannada, and the towering temple that somehow brings a sense of peace to the whole neighborhood.

Garbage disposal in Whitefield was a complicated mix of scientific mechanisms – flex your muscles and fling the bag as far as possible and into the clump of trees. Sometimes, it would hit a hapless dog scavenging through the muck, and in which case, you would have to run away as quickly as you can to avoid getting bitten. In Domlur, the disposal techniques are simpler and certainly less adventurous. The disinterested old man who lugs the trolley around hardly even cracks a smile.

No more waking up at seven and still making it to office at nine, no more going back home for lunch, no more gazing longingly at the house from the office window, no more running into the same people – but I know for sure that I will love this place as much as I loved Whitefield soon enough :)

Update...

This post has been written at least ten times and found its way duly to the dustbin (precisely the Recycle Bin). I just cannot seem to think of anything to write about. Have I become so unimaginative that nothing seems to excite me anymore? Have i become a tired, world-weary cynic? Is this how rock-bottom feels like? Or have i just grown lazy?

The five minute walk to my office has been reduced to a two minute walk. And thanks to my dad, who found a short cut, it is now just one minute. Apart from the lone, old dog that barely glances at me and that too with maximum disinterest, there is not a soul on the road.

My neighbors seem to lead interesting lives though. The kid next door keeps bawling all through the night, and her mom and dad have little arguments that whiff by, across the cooker whistles. A girl who lives on the floor above me has a boyfriend, who tries to smuggle in everyday in broad daylight. He tries to look nonchalant and casual when he climbs the first floor, and then panics and rushes through the other floors to reach her room as quickly as possible.

Then there is a college kid who listens to loud music in the night. So loud that i can hear it even from the other side of the wall. He also lives alone and does not turn off the lights in the night :), which i certainly do find funny because, though he looks macho and tough in the mornings, with gelled hair and pierced ears, the baby in him refuses to switch off the lights and turn off the music in the night. And I derive a certain joy from that :)

So, apart from churning out articles on cats, dogs, old men, and business, the free time i get is spent on staring at neighbors. An occasional splurge at Fabindia, a lunch date with myself at the mall, and frequent visits to the supermarket punctuate the pretty simple, calm, and quiet life I lead here in Bangalore.

Finally here again...

After a brief hiatus, yes I am back to do my bit in adding to the already vast amounts of junk on the Internet. The past two months have been one helluva ride. Finding a new house, getting adjusted to the orange walls, making friends with my neighbor who plops her baby right into my arms claiming that the barely-three-year-old misses the ‘Didi’ already…

Finding a shortcut to my office which is only five minutes away even in snail mode, icing up the lady who comes to clean to arm-twist her into cleaning properly, feeling the breeze softly nudging against the curtains, waking up to a shivery cold morning, clattering my way through in the kitchen to make a hurried breakfast/lunch…though not as fancy as they sound, they are the little drops of happiness I find in an almost solitary existence.

With an extended vacation in my home town coming to an end in a few more hours, now it is time to come back to the Orangeness… :P I know this trip has made changes that can never possibly become alright anymore. I cannot offer anything but a meek apology for all the hurt caused intentionally or unintentionally. I also understand that it wouldn’t change anything but it is the least and the best I can offer before I get buried under the pile of pending work that makes me shudder even when I am only thinking about it.

And another update would be on my cat’s wonderful ability to produce kittens like popcorn. They just keep popping out of her every three months. So the latest addition to our family would be the completely adorable four little kittens that keep meowing the whole place down.

Every morning when they greet me with their big round eyes full of optimism and joy, I remind myself - life is not all that bad after all… :)

Five Minutes of Bliss

It is a five minute walk to my office. And the sights I see are so varied each day that I look forward to the walk. The road is narrow and lined with trees. As the road bends to encompass a huge playground, I can see frenzied players shouting at each other, engrossed in the game. One of the apartments on my left has a wind chime that welcomes me with a tinkle and automatically brings a sense of peace from within. The house next to the apartment is a small one with a line of shrubs in front. A yellow bulb hangs precariously from the roof; a newspaper lies unclaimed in front of the door, and an unswept courtyard has dry leaves playing their own games.

I turn to an even narrower lane, and see white and pink flowers that remind me of peppermint candies. I pass a house that has a book cupboard in the garage. A small boy starts trotting beside me. He has a full white uniform that has light patches of brown – the mark of a sincere mother who would have spent hours scrubbing it. He is singing loudly and picks one of those flowers. Balancing his lunch basket in one hand, and adjusting his heavy school bag with a complicated jig of shoulders, he smells the flower and puts it carefully inside his basket. Suddenly he becomes excited and shouts loudly, waving frantically at a small boy, quite at a distance in front of us. The small boy takes a while to comprehend and then recognizing his friend, laughs and then falls down because he has not been looking in front. This boy bursts out into peals of laughter and I join him heartily. The other one brushes the dust away and starts laughing too.

Abruptly they realize I have been given admission into their private moment; the boy grins coyly and runs in front to join his friend. As for me, I feel strangely light and carefree. I hum a tune and push the office gates open. It has hardly been five minutes, but I have already had a great day. :)

Waka Waka...

Errr... I lost this post..:( Thanks to my tampering with HTML codes... Anybody who has a copy :P meaning someone who saved this brilliant piece of art as a personal copy, help me retrieve it :(

Rains Once Again...

The rains are beautiful in Bangalore. A gush of nature’s fury at times, incessant at others, but pitter patter mostly. The power goes off almost immediately and sometimes never returns. I sit in the dark by the window and listen to the relentless tapping on the roof. I can hear a kid reciting his lessons, a flick of a matchstick, and slight traces of an argument next door. The watchman taps his stick on the gate to chase a stray dog away and lights his cigarette. I can smell the tobacco. Somebody has turned on a radio and bits of kannada drift across.

The lights flicker and the sounds increase. There are more conversations and movements. I can smell a burnt out candlewick. The watchman almost trips over a loose stone. My roommate slowly shifts and looks up at the lights. They flicker more intensely and then die out. The watchman kicks the stone and it hits the gate with a mighty clang. The sound reverberates and the apartment is silent once again.

Unrelated Thought: Lovely Song - Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head - B.J. Thomas and Even Lovelier Lyrics.

Updates...

Things are moving at such a fast pace that I can hardly keep up. Sorting out issues, bidding a million farewells everyday, packing bags, hunting for accommodation, meeting friends... the list is actually endless. I am moving on to bigger and better things. (At least I hope they are :P)

I am moving to another big bad city. I wouldn't exactly call it a city, because the place I would be living (in another ten days) is about 25 kilometers away from the city - Whitefield. And true to its name, it really has lots of barren space interspersed with high-rise buildings and malls. Whitefield is to Bangalore as Nanganalur is to Chennai. Self-sufficient, and comfortable, it has a rustic feel. Untouched by the maddening pace of the city, it is confidently sleepy.

It would be a while before I actually start liking the place, because at the moment, I am too emotional about leaving the city I have grown up with. Of course, not to mention a truck load of friends I will be missing like hell.

I would be learning new things, letting go, meeting new people, exploring the place... Yes Bangalore, I will surely love you…One day.