When do you call a city
your ‘home’? When you live in a city for 10 years? When you get used to the
weather so much that you crib and cringe at slight changes to the ‘used to’
weather patterns? When you progress beyond ‘Kannada gothilla’ to broken
fragmented Kannada that can be used as basic survival skills? When you can
entertain an outsider for a day or two with the sights and smells and tastes of
the city?
If the above definitions
are checked off diligently, then yes I do belong to Bengaluru and can probably
safely update the ‘home’ section in any form as Bengaluru! But if I introspect
further and try to find a rooted love, affection and pride for this city – then
my confidence gives way and I am pretty sure that I have never shed a nostalgic
tear in this city, never swelled in the pride of being a Bengalurean, never
thought of trading anything with simply living in this city! So what does that
make me – a hybrid confused desi Bengalurean?
Bengaluru is the sum total
of ironies and frustrations of thousands of migrants that live, breathe, eat,
drink, celebrate and work their days through the city! As the days progress,
crowds expand and burst at the seams, roads contract and crack and traffic
snarls snake through highways and bylanes of the city. The hapless citizens
have two choices to deal with the mess that they live in – either accept,
compromise and move on or crib, cry, pent out anger and have a bad night’s
sleep. Whilst people pride in the culture of ‘Namma Bengaluru’; one can rarely
find its tradition and heritage on the streets, amongst your neighbours or in
the festivities of the city; Bengaluru is a cauldron of expats, southies,
northies and people from all walks of lives – the so-called migrants have
created imprints and footprints of their culture and habits in the nooks and
corners of the city – the medley is so colourful, so diverse and so significant
that one needs to really go on deep-rooted hunts to touch the real soul of
Bengaluru!
Whilst you learn to love
the blossomy cheer of the few left over Gulmohar trees that have been spared by
the realtor monsters; you are equally frightened by the frothy lakes that
pollute and poison the atmosphere of the city. Whilst you are spoilt of
culinary choices by the growing ‘fine dining’ experiences across European,
Mexican, French and Vietnamese cuisines; you are equally wary of the fact that you
have to really research yourself to have a slice of Bengaluru’s culinary heaven
– simple Dosa coupled with ‘by-two’ coffee at one of the ‘darshni’ restaurants
of Bangalore! While we take pride in the musical, theatrical and ‘sante’
culture of the city; we are equally at our wit’s end to figure out a simple
weekend outing lazying in a park, by the lake or simply nibbling peanuts while the
world moves along!
Guess there is no ‘ultimate’
city formula that can satisfy its residents…So as you love and enjoy the global
experiences being resurrected in Bengaluru – whether it’s French wine tasting
festivals, Spanish Tomatina festivals, German October fests..you do also compromise
the limited spaces and roads of the city with a burgeoning mass of migrants!
And it’s a vicious circle of people moving for better jobs, metro experiences created
by the very increase in number of people interested in moving to this city and
finally resulting in unbelievable pressures on land, air, water, roads and the
very soul of the city…Add the ‘laid back’ attitude of governments and citizens
alike to this complex formula and the result is an ironic jamboree of a city – where
biggest cars battle with cows on smallest roads and where distance is measured
in time and where you will still find people lining outside Corner House for
their favourite ice cream even if a Haagen Dazs showroom shines bright right
across the street!
