printed as Adjust maadi, with a vengeance
- Bangalore Mirror, Fri 22 Aug, 2008.
I drive in this city, out of absolute vengeance. A pleasure I would play any prank to get my foot on, is now short of thrill and purely and utterly a means to an end.
Some time ago I would refrain from any opinion on the simple basis that I have been away and the ‘locals’ (a privileged nomenclature that had applied to me) would tut-tut at my sudden and ‘typical’ foreign scoffs. But now I find that, even in my head, I am more local than most locals I know. Hence I am entitled to every serif, dot and crossed t to follow henceforth.
Roll away smogged eyes and claim greater right on any judgment because- and this is true- I have only seen the result of and not the actual day-by-day and systematic smothering of a city that once breathed pure.
But not one of you can take away from me, my prerogative to mourn. And I mourn my loss of belonging. I mourn my loss at understanding how getting to Cunningham road, the other day, could take not 40 mins but 1 hr 40 mins!
I have been introduced to my new city of dwelling- Bengaluru. I have been acquainted with new roads, construction corridors (newer roads), ambitious projects (signal-free roads) and dream parades (all the digging for the metro rail, on perfectly good roads). I have been familiarised with ‘lanes’ on these new roads, with the exhilarating ‘outer’ lane. Globally understood as the ‘fast lane’, this third lane has been formulated by the traffic police as an 80 kmph lane, for drivers such as me who will invariably have a place to get to ‘within’ a certain time. But this lane is domicile to thelawallahs and trucks spewing loose jelly and overhanging rusty iron rods. They will not drive beyond 35 kmph and God forbid, no! also never allow vehicles with speedometers that accommodate numbers up to 200kmp to overtake and find their hurried way.
If I am lucky enough to negotiate a gap between two vehicles straddling my lane on either side, I get on the issue of belonging. I have to admit that this is an issue, as such, largely attributed to my going away. But I have been back for long stays every 12-18 months and more frequently over the past two years. And every time, it is a renewed eye-opener. Every time more smarting that the previous- deeming the term ‘shutter speed’ a very human form of defence and less of a technical adjustment.
This brings me, meandering, to a very interesting experience I was recently a part of. Solitary, spot-lit and public humiliation (campus jargon: stress-busting) not being my subject of expertise, I was nevertheless, made party to one such perpetration. Another ‘never’ prefixed to my expanding list of to-dos. Revelation: kids grow out of their title at 8 yrs of age. The increasing number of worldly wise young adults here, coerce me to contemplate- is the welcoming and tranquil Bangalorean I am, a redundant genus? I think not. If it is the non-Bangalorean hard nose and meanness (for paucity of a meaner vocabulary) that my psyche seems stubbornly immune to, it is - and I accept - a grave failing. One I am not mourning.
And so my vengeance carries on. In the face of worldly wise kid-adults who put all I have been taught, to question. In the face of materialistic pageantry and social mortification that has become the anthem of most aspiring and veteran P3Ps. In the face of influential luminaries that enlighten less and reflect more. In the face of propagandists who will existentialise the motive of an entire city.
Bangalore stands proselytised. And I will plough through. I will conquer every underpass beyond every flyover, both of which will portentously have some structural under-completion. I will drive on every road including every deviation and every pompous re-re-re-direction. I will stick to my lane and completely frustrate the bus (yes, bus!) that will manage a niche 7th lane right behind me.
This is it. It is this quintessential simply adjust maadi stance that keeps us going. Just taking it. And giving in.
Bangalore will always remain a golden screen on which the transient hues of Bengaluru will cast filter upon filter and draw new identities, on and on.
With a vengeance, it survives. A vengeance I am beginning to enjoy.
~
www.bangaloremirror.com -- Bangalore Talking -- Blog Talk -- Adjust maadi, with a vengeance
- Bangalore Mirror, Fri 22 Aug, 2008.
I drive in this city, out of absolute vengeance. A pleasure I would play any prank to get my foot on, is now short of thrill and purely and utterly a means to an end.
Some time ago I would refrain from any opinion on the simple basis that I have been away and the ‘locals’ (a privileged nomenclature that had applied to me) would tut-tut at my sudden and ‘typical’ foreign scoffs. But now I find that, even in my head, I am more local than most locals I know. Hence I am entitled to every serif, dot and crossed t to follow henceforth.
Roll away smogged eyes and claim greater right on any judgment because- and this is true- I have only seen the result of and not the actual day-by-day and systematic smothering of a city that once breathed pure.
But not one of you can take away from me, my prerogative to mourn. And I mourn my loss of belonging. I mourn my loss at understanding how getting to Cunningham road, the other day, could take not 40 mins but 1 hr 40 mins!
I have been introduced to my new city of dwelling- Bengaluru. I have been acquainted with new roads, construction corridors (newer roads), ambitious projects (signal-free roads) and dream parades (all the digging for the metro rail, on perfectly good roads). I have been familiarised with ‘lanes’ on these new roads, with the exhilarating ‘outer’ lane. Globally understood as the ‘fast lane’, this third lane has been formulated by the traffic police as an 80 kmph lane, for drivers such as me who will invariably have a place to get to ‘within’ a certain time. But this lane is domicile to thelawallahs and trucks spewing loose jelly and overhanging rusty iron rods. They will not drive beyond 35 kmph and God forbid, no! also never allow vehicles with speedometers that accommodate numbers up to 200kmp to overtake and find their hurried way.
If I am lucky enough to negotiate a gap between two vehicles straddling my lane on either side, I get on the issue of belonging. I have to admit that this is an issue, as such, largely attributed to my going away. But I have been back for long stays every 12-18 months and more frequently over the past two years. And every time, it is a renewed eye-opener. Every time more smarting that the previous- deeming the term ‘shutter speed’ a very human form of defence and less of a technical adjustment.
This brings me, meandering, to a very interesting experience I was recently a part of. Solitary, spot-lit and public humiliation (campus jargon: stress-busting) not being my subject of expertise, I was nevertheless, made party to one such perpetration. Another ‘never’ prefixed to my expanding list of to-dos. Revelation: kids grow out of their title at 8 yrs of age. The increasing number of worldly wise young adults here, coerce me to contemplate- is the welcoming and tranquil Bangalorean I am, a redundant genus? I think not. If it is the non-Bangalorean hard nose and meanness (for paucity of a meaner vocabulary) that my psyche seems stubbornly immune to, it is - and I accept - a grave failing. One I am not mourning.
And so my vengeance carries on. In the face of worldly wise kid-adults who put all I have been taught, to question. In the face of materialistic pageantry and social mortification that has become the anthem of most aspiring and veteran P3Ps. In the face of influential luminaries that enlighten less and reflect more. In the face of propagandists who will existentialise the motive of an entire city.
Bangalore stands proselytised. And I will plough through. I will conquer every underpass beyond every flyover, both of which will portentously have some structural under-completion. I will drive on every road including every deviation and every pompous re-re-re-direction. I will stick to my lane and completely frustrate the bus (yes, bus!) that will manage a niche 7th lane right behind me.
This is it. It is this quintessential simply adjust maadi stance that keeps us going. Just taking it. And giving in.
Bangalore will always remain a golden screen on which the transient hues of Bengaluru will cast filter upon filter and draw new identities, on and on.
With a vengeance, it survives. A vengeance I am beginning to enjoy.
~
www.bangaloremirror.com -- Bangalore Talking -- Blog Talk -- Adjust maadi, with a vengeance
Comments
:(
Ujjwal, you are right, Bangalore is the best.
And I totally understand your sentiments ;)