Bangalored!

Paranoid, as I am ( I am not sure if this is a congenital defect, because I don’t really remember being any different any time else!), I had asked for a cab to pick me and the Lord up at 2 15 am…I hadn’t slept partly because it would be pointless and largely because I wouldn’t be able to sleep even if I wanted to anyway!

So, we reach the village railway station platform (a very long one indeed!) in time, to take the 3 am local to the City of Joy exactly as I had planned it out in my mind. Now, often times in our lives, and especially mine, we realize that the best of plans could backfire. (Murphy’s law?)
Reason had suggested that at 3 am, the locals would not be crowded. And I had also been told that locals get preference over the other trains and would therefore never be delayed. Only the latter turned out to be true, so I have to thank this friend for the reasoning.
My own logic would fall flat on its face, and the Lord and I would have to make do with sitting on our travel bags near the door of the local train! This would still be fine…until….flowers, fish and the mixed fragrance of the two hit us hard with people transporting them..and the next thing we know is that the fish are being carried by people in bags placed right next to us…In a while we also realize that the water hadn’t been drained from those bags and the fishy water was wetting our very travel bags on which we were sitting! YUCK! YUCK YUCK and YUCK!

7 am…that’s when we reached the airport, with a good 2.5 hours away from departure. We may have reached atleast 20 minutes later if not for the psycho of a taxi driver who got us there from the City of Joy’s railway station (bridge!)
The Lord fell asleep while we were sitting at the Arrivals section of the airport, and yours truly would not be able to sleep, would not even be able to read business magazines..He had already been emotionally transported to the Garden City..He would soon be Bangalored!

The last thing that could have happened to us was a delayed flight, or worse still a cancellation…and thank the good Lord (I mean, the Lord apart from my companion, the Lord believed widely to be a resident of the skies), we wouldn’t be victims any further….Our flight was on time, and I forced myself to stay awake, lest I miss the opportunity of reading the in-flight magazine.
I would eventually fall asleep for about an hour in all, and that despite having the window seat, from where the view was simply….breathtaking!

Bangalore’s pleasant weather, described very ordinarily in terms of temperature (which was at 23 degree centigrade) was exactly as I had remembered it to be…Salubrious..May be it was just the psychological feeling…admittedly so…but then, what the heck! I had been away from this place for less than 24 weeks, and that could not possibly have taken away memories, dreams and nightmares of 24 years!

After saying “Bye for nows” to the Lord and another friend who happened to be on the same flight, I was destined to be reminded of the notorious characters of Bangalore – the autorickshaw drivers who mob you and start speaking in Hindi, just because you are coming out of an airport. Not to mention being asked to pay 5 times the regular fare!

Little would they know that I am a local, and a veteran at that ;-) Yeah..this word “local” and “localite” has, especially in India, at times negative connotations, but I have never cared less! I am a localite. And a proud one at that..So, I ask the rickshaw guys to first talk to me in Kannada (why don’t I look like a Kannadiga?? I mean, I really am not one but why do I get mistaken to be a Mallu and even a Bengali but not a Kannadiga or a Gult!) …So I tell the rickshaw fellas that I am a localite and they cannot take me on a ride literally…not on excess fare atleast! I only would have to walk a small distance to find a guy in his right mind to charge the correct fare according to the meter and would, to my good fortune happen to be ready to go where I want to go…

For first time Bangalore visitors…this needs some explanation…The auto rickshaws seldom bother about where you want to go…It is where they want to go that matters!
I am headed to Little Sister’s office, so that I could technically be picked up and from (well, near) the airport. The space-time separation between the airport and Little Sister’s office is typical to the separation between most places in Bangalore…Things haven’t changed much since I had been away…A few kilometers or even meters can still take a long time to displace oneself amidst the chaotic choc-a-bloc traffic.

Familiarity, as they say, is comforting..And the traffic only made me feel at home..Bangalore’s way of welcoming me I guess!

Little Sister is now a pro on Bangalore’s roads, and Yana (my Santro for those who forget!) has got along with Little Sister quite well indeed! Little Sister has been taking care of Yana quite well when I have been away and Yana transported us smoothly home in less than 30 minutes over around 10 kilometers.
Little Sister thinks I have been “out of touch” and combined with sleep deprivation, I was disqualified enough to be allowed to drive!

Home! “Home is where the heart is”, or so I had read as a young and gullible kid, and I don’t know why I remember it…But, at times (as Oscar Wilde has suggested), the plain and simple truth is rarely ever simple or plain! I can vouch for the fact that my heart was back here, in Bangalore, at home..

The squeaky clean floor, the familiarity for my feet…I could just lie down on the floor and kiss it…

Home food; Even simple rasam and rice tasted…heavenly!

And then came this without warning: Talking talking and more talking…for a little over 4 hours…when we finally decide to go out for dinner…Naah….not at one of those classy restaurants where the classy families indulge in family dining…Simple pleasures…the simple things are what fascinate our family..now, earlier and probably forever!

VV Puram’s circle is famous in Bangalore for having a street full of eat-outs..Some of them in shops; some of them made by street hawkers…Those Masala Dosas and idlis, those Bondas (deep fried snacks, called “Chop” back in the village)..those Churmuris - the south Indian equivalent of Bhel for the uninitiated…Man! What all had I been missing for these 136 days!

I eventually get the better of Little Sister and despite being asked by all to reconsider driving after a night’s sleep, I have it my way (I am a guest getting royal treatment remember?)…Well….a few glitches…I have indeed lost my charm..I can drive very well…..But the camaraderie that I used to share with Yana needs renewal!

After putting Yana to sleep, I decide to get myself some sleep…Sleeping at home…after 136 days! I could sleep for 136 hours continuously!!!