B is for Bangalore [#AtoZChallenge]

It was a bright summer (already?) day and I was in high spirits. And why not? I’d woken up early and on a Monday no less! Surely that was a sign of a good day? I left home to go to work at 8.45 AM as intended (but seldom carried out. Not today though. Another good sign). I got my vehicle out and was greeted by the familiar sound of the woman who comes everyday to take out the trash. This person who has no need to be on time has more sense of punctuality than the so-called skilled workers that we’re dubbed to be. I greeted her in the usual fashion as I do on the days that I’m able to match her time. The ride to the Metro station was uneventful and that in itself was pleasant. I saw the usual sights – vegetable peddlers idly pedalling away on their cycles to get to their usual circuits, no doubt. Shopkeepers chatting with each other as they opened the shutters to their shops ; some early birds had begun their ritual of praying to their gods for a good day of business. Familiar, pleasant sights. I smiled to myself as I continued riding leisurely. I was on time, there was no need to rush.

I reached the Metro station on the dot and proceeded to go to my usual platform. The train was due at 9.03 AM. I had to wait for just a little over a minute and it arrived at the scheduled time. I got in and continued reading a book from where I’d left it last night. As I immersed myself in Nonoguchi’s account of the murder that had taken place, I happened to overhear two particularly loud gentlemen. My attention shifted from the book to them and their conversation, quite inadvertently. They seemed well over 50 and with relaxed expressions on their faces. One of them remarked – “Houdu saar, ivag Bengaluru tumbaa change aag bittide” [Oh yes sir, Bangalore (I still prefer the anglicized version of the name) has changed a lot nowadays]. I felt a faint hint of a smile cross my lips as I recalled similar conversations between my dad and his friends. I continued listening, this time with conscious attention, not with the express intent of eavesdropping, but only with curiosity to hear what He felt had particularly changed and hoped he would expound on his statement. He did. He went on to talk about how his children would no longer partake in his interests of taking early Sunday breakfast trips to Brahmin’s Bar (an old hotel establishment in Gandhi Bazaar known for its tasty Idly, vada and chutney offerings), but instead woke up late and preferred to order in pizzas from “Dominicos”. I chuckled. But I also felt slightly offended by the generalization that he offered that the entire current generation were guilty of what his children had reportedly done the previous day. He went on to rant about how “Pensioner’s paradise”, as Bangalore was once referred to, was now ridden with modern day incomplete infrastructure and how the number of parks had drastically reduced. I, with no knowledge of the past he was talking about, could only  look on and wait for him to enlighten me (unknown to him) further. At this point however, the person he had been talking to, who had up until this point, been nodding along, finally spoke up. He mentioned the glory days too, but he also had good things to say about the importance of change and how things were not all that bleak – they were in fact travelling by a modern construction that Was the Metro. The voice on the overhead speaker had meanwhile been periodically calling out the stations the train was stopping at and it was time for me to alight at Nadaprabhu Kempegowda station (Majestic). The first gentleman I’d been listening to looked at me as he stood up from his seat, to get down and I smiled at him mentally thanking him for the conversation I had been a part of as well. He confusedly smiled back at me out of courtesy.

As I waited for the train from Majestic to Indiranagar, I found myself thinking about the conversation and about my city. I had lived here for almost my entire life and yet I had not formed that much of a bond with it as the older generation had. No doubt, they had had more time with the city than I did, but surely, close to three decades is a long enough time? I pondered a little longer. The fact that the pace at which things had changed was probably more rapid in my time than theirs was probably a factor that contributed to the limited nostalgia. That and the innumerable other distractions – the virtual world being one of them. Then I remembered the Defence Accounts quarters I’d played in as a child, with friends I was no longer in touch with. I remembered the long walks I’d eagerly been on there to get to the library that had been torn down to make way for a gym of sorts. I even remembered the scary cycle rides through the deluge of vehicles to get to “Sandarshini” hotel just because I favored the sambar there over other closer hotels. I remembered the weekly trips to the Sai Baba mandir and the echoing chants of prayers that subsequently took place. I remembered the number of times I’d shown my school diary to autodrivers after school because I had not yet committed my new residential address to memory. I’d tried to pay attention to the routes they took, admittedly unsuccessfully.

I realised I did have memories of my city after all. As the train arrived at Majestic and I got on, the glimpses of the shops and the familiar sights on the road on the way to the Metro station rose to the surface of my mind. Weren’t they memories in the making as well?  🙂

One thought on “B is for Bangalore [#AtoZChallenge]

  1. Yes, we all have memories that we don’t think we have until it suddenly strikes us! I have been in Bangalore for three years now and yes, Bangalore indeed has given me a lot of memories! Also, it is the little things that matter the most!

    Liked by 1 person

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