The Irony called Bengaluru

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!