Kallola

Bangalore Mirror. Monday 02 November 2009. http://www.bangaloremirror.com/index.aspx?page=others&do=epaper The city’s rather exuberant traffic has given me more than a fair share of Bangalore Bombaat ness to revel in. The timing of something that happened recently, still cracks me up. Fade in: RT Nagar traffic junction just after the Hebbal flyover. I was among the first line of vehicles. Having just caught up with my friend soon after my recent return, I was relying on the movement of other motorists around me instead of paying attention to the traffic lights ahead. As engines started to rev., I pushed the pedal and inched forward before noticing that the green light was still off. A good few vehicles had sped past and I hesitated, though way ahead of the stop line. As a driver still outsmarted by continually reformed and ill-marked roads, my perplexity was mounting to near panic. My friend had gone completely quiet and I was effectively solo. Never to be beaten, th...

Bangalore Mirror, Wednesday, November 26, 2008 Why, at 8:45 am, is an attractive, young girl in ill-fitting mens’ trousers, short, braided hair and a purposeful smile, strutting bare-footed by the central reserve on the high-speed airport road, chatting up rather eager truck-drivers? Hmmm… quite. So why did I not stop watching this gaucherie? Because Britney Spears slithering ‘Toxic’ out of the radio could not have added more masala to this highway drama unfolding before me. There were 112 more seconds on the traffic lights countdown. There was nothing else to do. And I would give this intriguing little interplay, my absolute and unadulterated attention, anyway. In the past, I have adhered to repeated warnings by well-wishers, to be wary of ‘sidey’ attractions along these parts, but this brazen encounter was too enticing not to give audience to. For goodness' sake! This was early morning, on a working day where fleets of school busses ferrying less than happy kids, ...

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 Cunning...