"The Pretenders"

“Philosophy is the want to be everywhere at home”


A bright humid 11th century afternoon, A thunderous roar across the red stretch of mud leading everywhere in all four and more directions, as plain as the human spirit and daunting as the soul, sprawl the fields at the end of which lies forests larger than them, as the tall hoysala king Veera Ballela 11 on an hunting expedition strolls the unkind unknown, lost he is from all world closed and thrown, an old lady with wrinkles as many as his army, stands still un moved by the sight of someone higher riding on a high horse, she sees her son she never had in his eyes and feeds him her only ration of beans, beans cooked with the warmth and kindness known and forgotten to most of his kingdom and beyond. Such is the land where the kind exhaled, where the heroes walked and the beans were the best across the Mysore plateau, “The city of baked beans” bengaluru rested humbly under the mighty horses hoof waiting for its day to be the force to guide it.

Many years have passed since a story as above was fabricated with an intentional propaganda towards the integrity bestowed upon their patriotism generated by such an emotional perceptory treat. on any morning the city gives a feeling of being at home with its gentle hustle along the busy streets getting quickly filled by cows, dogs and us alike, radiating an exclusive sense of hope towards the possibility of a place being resistant to change and unchanging with the rest of the changing world. Almost Smiling faces, uniforms of all colors of all ages walk the streets that lead to where they will; many of the stone paths along the cemented roofs come alive as they do in an RK Narayan story.

Bangalore, the fifth largest metropolitan shingles in the south east of Karnataka a stately boundary in the pre Cambrian deccan plateau gave birth to continued settlements dating back from 1537 as the Vijayanagara Empire reigned under the rule of the great kempe Gowda, after changing many hands along with being bought for 300000 rupees by the king of wodeyar in 1687, painfully survived the fourth Anglo mysore war, after which the British as quick as prudent they are set up the British east India franchise, which was the first of the stones laid to a cobbled state of air pollution, traffic congestion and anglicized street names. the phrase “necessity is the mother of all inventions” aptly gains significance in context to the city, the 1898 the plague erected telephone lines as the bodies were buried, even an health officer was appointed. In 1906 Bangalore became the first city in Hindustan to have electricity powered by the hydro electric plant situated in shivanasamudra.1927 the watered gardens flowered generously all around choosing the city as their abode which tourism marketers took no time in re franchising across the world as the garden city of India.

The locals are a very polite breed with a tradition rich culture or vice versa, paddy based grains being the most staple along with wheat and the usual assortment of India rich spices.
Language gently changing from the higher society to the much harsher versions in the nerve centre the true markets in central Bangalore. aromas as many traveling like rainbows fill the air in any neighborhood on any Friday morning which is considered the holiest among the days of the week, when temples are swamped and sometimes more by children and their parents in colors bright. Love their movies which are only fractionally watched among the city’s inhabitants as the vast population are originally from Andhra Pradesh and Tamil nadu, more than few cultures intertwining harmoniously have created a great bunch. Oh off course there were a few racial internal conflicts but that is just the heat involved in melting the steel gates of society that of now which has been moulded to become a glacier to reckon with.

You sure will read about the shopping and local tourist spots when you get there but what we will talk about here is an experience of those places which you may not hear of even being there.

Lets begin where the celebrity gods are born, along a not so narrow laid path from Bangalore to narayanpura the friendly looking buffaloes sun themselves under the trees which soon are disappearing, closer to the village the harvested grain is strewn to the width of the road to be threshed by the moving wheels and even feet, yes narayanpura is a potters valley, a family tradition passed down for centuries well may be not centuries but nonetheless for a very long time as gently as the moulds once made for the gods of today which got passed on too. The halli with around 55 families is not as forgotten as It is not remembered at all, the sight of young ones sifting sand and elderly artists creating works of art faster than the women preparing the clay is not what many locals take pleasure in appreciating as they are immune to it consequently is assumed to be a non commercial venue for tourism development, culturally saturated with such attachments which exist as an invisible ignored placenta between the people here and the rest of the world in the garden city. Which might be a blessing in disguise for the simply floating by community? The descriptions of the statues are a book and more on their own of whose descriptive justice will never suffice. The eyes see more than any pen.

Water in Bangalore is going to be a constant problem, the water table has lost atleast a few meters in height, the hope of a silicon valley is also depleting the water supply by endangering factors responsible for feeding the water table, and anyway we should talk abt the water table after the birds, now. It’s a strange feeling to absorb the influence the city has had on the syndrome of “following” compared to their ancestors. Narayan murthy is considered a demi god when he lives by the motto “only capitalism will survive” will survive what? And for whom? Why did not the honorable people of Bangalore and all around it pay even a little attention to a great intellect of a creation in the name of Sri Kuvempu whom even the plants and animals kept company. I sometimes ponder the differences in somebody like myself and a great man like him though we had the same heroes such as Tolstoy, Milton and Wordsworth profiling the miracles of silent simple living. The man influenced the local literature in a symbolically significant way, starting of with the “beginners muse”, his superiority in understanding the decoding function related to words for their infliction was second to none.

“It’s meaning or none
To their creator leave them
Why waste time in a distant futile
Come my pal lets walk
Together ahead journey of life
Of which previous life this bond
Has come back to bind”

Would have the people engrossed in such transcended speculation follow a true path to liberate themselves as much as the people today follow the capitalistic dream, the answers are unknown and the questions belong else where, but the trees under which the buffaloes lie will sure die.

Lets talk about the local birds, there’s street vendors yes, there’s canieving hawkers running behind cunning 3 wheeled taxi drivers , flooding the city are bicycles and men on feet some carry their livelihood some the bag of sweets for their wife waiting at home, books for kids, food is the most common especially in the afternoon, but off course with the number of cars and easy self transport developments such sights are lost memories for lost souls but is it necessary that the traveling soul is always lost? Yes back to the birds, well where do we start, from the past on course, the yediyur tank in jayanagar is a still, non floating co ogulated absolutely non viscous shit filled pond which not so long ago was an amateur “guys who love birds” paradise, the brahminy kites were my favorite coz they sounded wittiest, egrets, coots, common kingfishers made their rounds, the occasional cormorant would grace the others but were much less rarer than the herons now those birds looked good, many looked like the majestic examples shown in salim ali’s handbook of Indian birds. Among them the ones around the lake now are just the crows, pariah kites, sparrows and pigeons which are also found in places without a trace of lake around them, stressing ladies and gentlemen here we are on the link between birds and destroyed lakes which we all knew before din’t we. And yes yes the great Indian bustard can also been seen sometimes and you are right only up until the lake was destroyed. It’s saddening for some who are not joyfull, as many tanks around the city which our ancient rulers (kempe gowda, wodeyar, tipu sultan, British) purposefully built to provide perennial life to the cradle of the silicon valley are being replaced by 2nd generation amenity shelters such as the majestic bus stand, the kanterva stadium etc. which may be one of the reasons why in some cases the ground needs to be pierced to find a water nerve up to almost 400 feet deep,


The farm side of Bangalore--The windy roads in between fields of golden paddy and tall sugarcanes. The still smiling people scantily clad men mostly in white and women with heir exposed belly buttons on whom colors quarrel, flower sellers, untidy public toilets if any, clothes fluttering in the wind against their wet will, could all similarise a view from top of an ancient shrine across any part of Asia where the palm and other trees stand with their leaf filled arms stretched wide open no matter how bad global warming has affected the rising water level, the unmistakable smell of jack fruit and mangoes from across the road are motivation enough to leave this paradise and venture into another enhancing the monofarmical view of these chain of simple gloriously backward farms.

The third shop on the right after annand sweets on commercial street is the street vendor who sells pani poori which is known as gol gupe in north India ( we are back in the city ) at 3 rs for 5 little puris which in English would resemble a pastry the size of a rum ball empty from the inside which then is filled with chick peas, onion peas and sometimes mashed potatoe all suspended in a liquid concoction of tambarind and mint brewed carefully to avoid making it too bitter and making it taste like unripe tambarind which all bangaloreans know what Im talking about. And the best yet to come dish is served in a plate no bigger than your palm with a piece of butter rich sugar saturated piece of mithai paradise which by roger banisters 4mile is better than its copy made at annand sweets which is unjustly but deservingly the finest sweets store in all of Bangalore.

Catching a bus to go to the nearest “you will not hear about destination” a welcoming sight stares me, a “Volvo” a mighty Volvo, looked majestic and simply far more healthier than the “the sad and lonely bigger version of the virgin shag mobile” fellows who drove us around the part of town which was the only part we knew. As you blend into the city every morning The BTS was the only thing that reminded you that you did not have to change to be wanted. For all people say and swear, without the BTS the nerve centre will be devoid of energy that churns the city to its awakened moments. As I comfortably feel a cushion under by back side the Volvo re assures the great things to come into this country welcomed or with the lack of, driving past the busy streets the pre occupied popullayion looked different in the sepia tinted windows of the bus, they look happier without the colors as that’s what may be gives a sense of lacking in the real world.

The climb was not testing at any level, the slope is neatly carved made clear of thorny bushes and a clear path to the peak is visible through the uneven canopy, a 30 minute on a bullock cart, 2 mile hitch hike from the station where the Scandinavian built bus dropped us off were a sweet predecorial preparation for the view (less daunting from what you may see over many of his counter parts far north of this great land) from the top of this squatting rock monument nandhi hills was humbled by a blanket of fog and tinges of a tree green shade from the flora, I have always wondered from many years about this mountain when we drove to nandhi hills like most people in the age group 16-65 would have driven to on a Sunday at some part of their lives, but this mountain had only ever been feetset by a few foot prints, the road leads people to beauty but only the hope of beauty leads the feet to see your home for the day and more from the roof of a another world. Experience it folks.

Time is the quintessential persona of the almighty, when there is hope in the future there is power in the presence, if it is to be its up to me and Im it, injustice lies as often in the omission as commission, are the kind of quotes the theatre loving audience of this great city take refuge in, one of my favorites ones was what I read scribbled on the canopy of the legendry three wheeled autos aka taxi’s in most of the countries, was a bright red Algerian fonted “ patriotism is the refuge for scoundrels”.

While the world of the suburban south remains innocently odd, Bangalore is on a fast track to justifying its label as the favorite FDI location bestowed on it through the past 10 years. With Wipro visionising to be among the top 10 IT companies in the world,infosys bravely disposing millions of rupees into purpose built premises securing land which otherwise would have been among your neighbors top 10 favorite picnic spot, IBM, ABN Ambro, Nova Scotia, BMW which my old man while driving his Hyundai sonata along alliance Francese sternly described it as a poor mans Mercedes, Mercedes Benz, aspiring Kingfisher Village being raised on grounds larger than any other open space available in the vicinity of the central city. Titan diversifying from telling the city their time of the day to showing the city in different colors through their wide range of sunglasses which are very famous among the teenagers who stylishly cruise on their motorbikes in company of pretty faced southern skin women wearing larger shades. And even dunkin donuts is planning to open a franchise, which Im sure the ever growing call centre thronging crowd can afford at 50 rs a doughnut. (Me, Arvind and vinay used to have 2 meals a day for 50 rs, 2 proper “moms will be proud of” meals) and the list is as many as the words required to describe this photogenic city cancerous with growing traffic.

Words in my eyes will never be sufficient to even begin to describe the halo encompassed by this simple city which will be a memory immortal in many lives who accidentally stumble upon this unignorably willing provider. As I sit on a bench of a chai wallah sipping sugar filled chai with the first two streets to begin this city in my direct view, the poetry weather jewels the smiles of people and dogs who continue their existence in chaos reaching out in their own ways posing to be paused by an artists brush. The smell of rotting garbage 10 meters away at times hazes the canvass, while only 300 meters away spring is ushered in with the spathodia blooms, followed by the jacaranda and tabebua trees, the may flower then takes over for the summer and through it all the decorative cherries, the copper shield barriers, the sampige and the great Indian cork tree usher the air around them with fragrant scents intoxicating to the “karma” following people ridding them of their sadness for a breath. As I stand up my bare feet sinks home and if not for that smell this city would be just another piece of earth dug up for the only purpose of survival which without them we wouldn’t have known of in the beginning anyway. I wonder away with a ripe smelling piece of mango competing with a bug eyed fly whose taken interest in the chili spread half ripe fruit which, just like this odd shaped city, fills you with a flavored essence of belonging.


Ps: The people of this city are particularly proud and intensely infatuated with their direction giving skills to any one who dares to enquire, aimlessly driving past the 18th century British grave yard, in the Indian sports car of the century the contessa classic we pulled over to confirm this allegation just to be sure unlike the headstones of the thousands soldiers and britishers buried on that ground denying the people to come a right to know of their identity and destiny. We pick a middle aged man wearing a green collared shirt closing a deal on his miniature cellular phone sitting comfortably on a motorbike which had a petrol tank which could hold no more than a mighty 3 litres of the golden juice, I lean forward and in my best Kanada ask him “boss which way to Germany” and with not a sign of pausing speculation he confidently throws words of Kanada back at me “go straight and take a left, and then keep going straight”.


That laugh alone is worth more than the air points which seem to be the latest motivating factor of an excuse for people who traverse the clouds to strange lands, there’s only as much one can experience without being there to experience it for the rest one may need ones soul to recognize its home, come before it’s too late.