Bangalored!

When we shifted from Chhattisgarh to Bangalore two years back, I had made a silent vow that I would not buy a car in the new city. It was a sentimental decision, not wishing to contribute further to the traffic mess and the spiraling pollution of the once-lovely city. But circumstances forced me to eat my unspoken words soon.

First concern - distance from home to office. In my case it is thirteen kilo metres from Malleshwaram to Koramangala which takes almost an hour on the congested and pot-holed roads of Bangalore. I googled the website of BMTC to find out any direct bus connectivity between these two points. No luck. ‘We had a Volvo service before. But there were hardly any passengers and all those who did travel, had passes! So the bus was cancelled’, informed the helpful bus depot manager at the Malleshwaram bus stand. Then I tried carpooling. I surfed various websites and registered my name and address, place of work and convenient timings for travel. My wife teased me that I was desperate to find a young female partner for travel. I ignored the taunts but fondly hoped that her words would come true. Nothing happened! A good sixteen months later, I did receive a response from a lady but I had to inform her with a heavy heart that I was no more looking for a companion, for carpooling or otherwise. Like they say in cricket, timing is of utmost importance.

For three months I traveled by bus and my boss in the office refused to part with an unused office vehicle. Since there was no direct conveyance to the destination I had to switch buses. In the evenings, I hated to pay through my nose for travelling in overcrowded Volvo buses, with the smell of stale perfume from hip co-passengers (mostly software guys) mixed with sweat assailing my olfactory senses. Once, a young man in sleeveless shirt standing next to me pushed his hirsute, open armpit right under my nose. Revolted, I shoved him hard and ducked to regain my breath and some fresh air. In the mornings, auto rickshawwalahs refused to ply short distances. I took down the numbers of errant auto drivers but lacked the perseverance to pursue. In the evenings whenever we wanted to go to a hotel for dinner, again, the omnipotent autowalahs spoiled the party (and peace at home) with a casual shake of their heads. If the school van failed to turn up one morning, I had to borrow a friend’s vehicle. At long last, I listened to the advice of my wife and children, swallowed my pride, broke my vow and quietly bought a ‘pre-owned’ Maruti car.

For close to two years now, it has been my habit every evening before I leave the office to part the blinds of the window to peer at the overlooking streets below to gauge the mood of traffic. Is it all clear? Is the vehicle movement maddeningly slow? Is it gliding smoothly, like a knife through amul butter? I perform this ritual with trepidation. Not that a roadblock would stop me from heading home! But a traffic jam when you hit the road is a harbinger of a long, long journey ahead.

        When the drive begins, I try not to see the madness outside. I close my eyes and struggle to catch my forty winks. I fail. Then I turn on the FM and try to listen to some new Hindi or Kannada songs. But these days there are more ads and less music in radio channels. Dejected and defeated, I look out.

        Traffic is senseless and depressing in Bangalore and the hapless traffic police are responsible in the least for the chaos. In fact, they respond to your calls with alacrity and try their best to mitigate the havoc. Motorists break the rules at will and honk at the slightest of pretext and sometimes for no reason at all. I have drawn two conclusions after prolonged observation of motorists in Bangalore. First, the number one culprit in breaking traffic rules are two wheelers, followed by autos, taxis and buses in that order. Secondly, women are in no way inferior to men in violation of road codes.

        But there is also another facet to Bangalore, which makes this city definitely livable even to this day despite all the pockmarks. A part that struggles for survival in the face of unimpeded growth of population, vehicles, malls and indifference. The weather is wonderful here and this is the biggest draw for most outsiders who once in Bangalore, do not feel like moving out. A considerable part of Bangalore is still green, especially the older neighborhoods. Of course, green zones and the lung spaces have shrunk and you can hardly find fluttering leaves against the sky in the new localities. But random efforts are on by active NGOs and foresters to bring back the lost glory. This city has a vibrant middle class which still cherishes the values of a decent, dignified living. People are courteous and helpful. Private schools are not only about air-conditioned class rooms, ipads and NASA visits. MTR (Mavalli Tiffin Room) is still there and so is the charming Gandhi Bazar. Darshini hotels are ubiquitous, clean and serve tasty food at reasonable prices. Where else can you have a glass of fresh fruit juice for ten to fifteen bucks? Lalbagh and Cubbon Park are serene and enchanting, even today. The only question is, for how long.