Tryst with Bengaluru

During my first week in the garden city, I thought Bangalore was about rains. It was July and the clouds were more than generous. Irrespective of the time and place they poured. And since the rain water could not find their way through the maze of 'roadlets' to the nearby drainage, they would gather themselves in about every pot and hole that they could drop in. So you had them gossiping around your neighbourhoods, waiting at the bus stops, hanging around the malls and even protesting outside the state assemblies & city courts. Sometimes I wished we could talk so that I could ask my way home whenever (read usually) I felt lost.

But two more weeks and I found my opinion hinting towards an interesting species; the auto-drivers. Almost every third conversation with them ends up in a spat. No matter how close or far you want to go, you have to give them 'extraaA'. 'Meters are for the morons' seem to be their mantra. “Do not agree with the fare? No problem. Go find another one.” With close to a hundred thousand autos romping throughout the city, you will never be short of yet another anecdote as you reach home swearing to teach them a lesson one day.

Days flew by and soon I was a month old in Bangalore settling in our new apartment with a futon for the bed (a terrible option) and a big cardboard box for our centre table (not sure what was going in my mind at that time). Trying to strike a balance between eating out and cooking at home, I made numerous trips to various supermarkets. And that's when it occurred to me - Is Bangalore about supermarkets more than anything else?

They are there at every turn you take sitting on the fake leather/velvet couch of a hard bargained auto. Differentiated more by the name than the products they sell, you have the standalone ones on one end of the scale and the big brand chain outlets at the other. Assisting every newcomer like me to 'build' their homes only to pack up and move in a couple of years.

While I was thinking this, I wondered, 'But what about the trees'? Was it not what the city was known for? How could I miss them for so many days? I looked out of my auto to find'em when my sight banged on to a 10 by 10 ft flex printing, mounted on a pole, 20 ft above the ground. Three flavours of an orange drink caught my attention only to lose it to a similar mounting that tried to tempt me about a twin flavoured biscuit. In fact every few minutes I found myself resisting one or the other temptation.

It was only at the red signal when my sight screeched to a halt, my thoughts re surged. The city of trees was now the 'City of Hoardings'. No matter which route you take, they would be there standing tall, looking down upon you, waxing eloquently about luxurious apartments (on a once green patch of land), giving sound advice for your investments or inviting you to the next big event.

There were trees too but it required some amount of concentration to look at them without getting distracted. And when I did, I found myself thanking them for their unfailing efforts to keep a city, outpaced & choked by its own growth & development, 'breathing'.

It's been close to nine months in Bangalore now and I seem to have made peace with many of its elements (though I still don't want to believe that the roads wear a deserted look at 2200 hrs) if not adapted myself completely to them. The city has been a more of a challenge to live in compared to any other metro that I have lived in.

It has not only tested but polished my character, my patience and my sensitivity towards others. It has forced me to push my limits and at the same time, look for the positive in every scenario. I cannot thank it enough. But everyday as I hit the bed, I make a promise to myself and to Bengaluru that I will not, like thousands of 'IT migrants' settle here forever to feed on its fortunes, but will rather strive to give back as much as possible before saying good-bye to the city!