Traffic jams may bring things to a standstill, but for most Bengalureans it is a preferred conversation starter. A myriad mix of emotions ranging from empathy, camaraderie to schadenfreude can be seen when conversations veer towards traffic bottlenecks and the time spent there during their daily commute.
It also evokes a deep sense of parochialism with people from each ward or zone proclaiming that traffic jams in their area measures highest in the misery index.
For those residing on Mysore Road nothing beats a traffic jam at Nayandahalli, those using Bannerghatta Road on a daily basis think it is the ultimate form of penance and forbearance. Those using the Whitefield Road think Kundanahalli junction is what the writers of Holy Bible had in mind when they talked about camel passing through the eye of a needle. Those residing near Hebbal think the same about Mekhri Circle.
But, however, among all these people there is a grudging consensus that Silk Board and K.R. Puram junctions are in different league and look at them with same amount of reverence as Rajinikant fans to their Thalaivar.
During my office commute I have to contend with Koramangala Sony Signal, a comparatively light weight one, but has now gathered some heft thanks to flyover work.
The ubiquitous earth movers, which seem to have already overrun half the city roads, have ensured that a major chunk in the middle of the road is not motorable and a tin sheet partition conveys they are here for a long haul.
For motorists on both sides the carriage space have come down to half of what it used to be and travel time doubled. The domino effect of this traffic bottleneck can be felt even four kilometres away at Embassy Golf Links technology park.
During peak hours the six-lane Inner Ring road has four rows of cars moving in each direction, with two-wheelers snaking through whatever little space is left. As one crosses Ejipura signal, the fight for restricted carriage space begins. Incessant honking, brinkmanship and big vehicle bullying smaller ones happen.
The passage through this stretch is also punctuated with long waits when signal turns red. This is the time to fret about getting late for office meeting, make frantic calls in this regard or more sedate pursuits such as listen to music, gaze at your phones or adjust the rear view mirror to check the make-up. Thankfully the last one is soon becoming passe, thanks to mirror app on phones.
It is also time to look at surroundings and feel rattled by the loud noise of heavy machinery, duck those seeking alms, especially the transgenders, and wait forlornly for the signal to turn green.
Tailpiece: During one such waits my attention was drawn towards a commotion in front of a shop front just after the Ejipura junction on way to Sony Signal.
A bike had rammed into another one from behind. The front wheel of that bike got stuck in the space between the rear wheel and exhaust pipe of the other one. Like two dogs trying to separate after a mating session,the two riders were frantically pulling their respective bikes in opposite directions. Both had to sweat a lot before they could accomplish it!
Also Read: Random Jottings
It is raining concrete on Bangalore. First it was those arterial roads which got the white topping, a pleasant sounding term to mask the agony motorists are subjected to. In many arterial roads, half the width was closed to traffic to carry out the digging and lay concrete.
For motorists it was like the proverbial camel passing through a needle's eye. All driving etiquettes took a back seat and frayed tempers, honking contests became the order of the day. Amid such constricted driving conditions commuting hours increased by leaps and bounds.
Now that the concrete works have either ended or nearing completion in many parts of the city, the attention of the civic authorities have turned towards smaller lanes. At many places the culverts and drains are being redone to ensure proper water flow.
Near my house the drain works happened ahead of state elections, but some drain stretches ran into dead ends as roads had to be cut to clear the debris and build a proper drain. The work was left pending and now it is being taken up.
There are hardly any warning signs to alert the motorists and is especially dangerous during nights when it is barely visible from a distance.
Many motorists have their rude awakening barely 4-5 metres shy of the dug up area. This is followed by some frantic stepping on brake pedal to screeching just-in-time halts.
Four-wheeler drivers, especially those driving burly SUVs, struggle to take a U-turn on the narrow sub-20 feet wide road with drain on one side. Their driving skills and the turning radius of their vehicles are put to ultimate test.
After a few days they put back the slabs on the road. But following the illustrious tradition of the Bangalore's civic authorities, they did not properly restore it by putting the necessary cement and asphalt. Hence motorists gingerly pass over the good old slabs, now shorn of asphalt cover, and it often emits a rumbling-cum-thud sound.
The situation is the same in many parts of the city. The other day I had to go to Banaswadi station and had to take a detour at two places. Mind you I was going there barely after two months.
As I passed through the Old Baiyappanahalli railway gate without having to wait for any train to pass by, I thanked my stars. But my joy was short lived as barely half a kilometre away I was greeted by a huge traffic pile up.
Upon enquiry I got to know that the culvert was being redone and only a narrow stretch was there to pass by. Looking at the long queue of vehicles on both the sides, I decided to take a detour.
I took a U-turn and returned to the railway gate, which again was fortunately open, and then got into the road running parallel to Kallpalli cemetery.
Unfortunately I was not well versed with the route as I had passed by that stretch only a couple of times by auto. During such circumstances the best way is to follow the herd instinct. Just go through lanes that has more volume of traffic. It worked for me that day and soon I reached the Dodda Banaswadi Main Road.
Barely had I thought that I can breathe easy, came the second shock. The road leading to Banaswadi railway station has been closed for repairs!
I had to then go hunting for a parallel lane and then figure out how that lane would reach the railway station. Again I decided to fall back on the tried and tested nostrum - follow the herd. And finally we made it to the station.
With the city's smaller lanes getting a makeover, surprises lurks in every corner.
Also Read: Random Jottings
After reading an excerpt in Caravan magazine, I was eager to read T.J.S. George's book with a quaint sounding title - Askew. That particular excerpt spoke of how liquor barons came to rule Bangalore and the city's crime syndicate was run by men with LLB and other college degrees! One of them even penned a memoirs about his stint in the underworld.
I had thought that George's book might be a voluminous one, but when I happened to lay my hands on it at Bookworm, I was pleasantly surprised that it was a mere hundred odd page pocket book. The book is quite a page turner for anyone interested in knowing more about Bangalore as seen through the eyes of this journalism stalwart.
George observes that every city has a soul, memories and dreams and derive their character from the values associated with them. And they go askew when they grow beyond their capacity. To prevent such an eventuality city's administrators and civil society carry out constant renewals. Often blighted god forsaken areas are converted into architectural marvels and seat of culture.
He cites examples of how New York and Hong Kong regained their balance through creativity and planning, but laments that in India the metropolitan centres went askew and remained so. Citing an example of Dharavi in Mumbai he observes that even in decadence our planners and entrepreneurs saw an opportunity for commerce by promoting slum tourism and of course the movie Slumdog Millionaire.
Though Dharavi may be the archetype of whatever went wrong with Mumbai, often touted as Asia's largest slum, but not the worst. If one bothers to take a local train from say Kurla to Vikhroli or Chembur to Mankhurd, one may come across far more festering sore spots. They may or may not be as expansive as Dharavi, but may figure much higher in the 'askew index'.
As for Bangalore George quotes William Wordsworth to say it 'began its youth in gladness but thereof came in the end despondency and madness'. The periodic frothing of Bellandur and Varthur lakes keeps reminding the city residents about the distance they have covered in their road to perdition.
George provides interesting nuggets as he takes us through a guided tour of the city. It is said that when the city's founder Kempe Gowda went on to build the capital in 1530, his mother had advised him to build lakes and plant trees. Though Kempe Gowda followed her advice scrupulously by building hundreds of lakes and leafy pathways, his present day successors have been working overtime to undo all that.
Whitefield, which currently evokes images of traffic gridlocks and frenzied construction activity, was once a quiet and an exclusive enclave for Europeans and Anglo Indians. Around 4,000 acres was alotted by Mysore Maharaja in 1881 for the settlement. It was named after one Mr D.S. White, the founder of the settlement. Until 1920s areas adjoining Whitefield was a favourite haunt for rabbit hunters.
Then he takes us through the culinary history of darshinis and Udupi hotels that currently dot every street corner of the city. He writes at length about Tulu speaking Shivalli Brahmins and their madhava style of cooking.
However he appears very abstemious while dwelling on non-vegetarian restaurants. He just nibbles on the Koshy's and their Syrian Catholic history, but gives the now ubiquitous Andhra hotels, with their 'sakkath hot' food, a total miss.
Another omission was the city's cricketing history. Bangalore has provided a steady stream of cricketers who went on to attain international fame. I doubt whether any other Indian metro has a prominent traffic circle named after a former cricketer.
Bangalore's population can be divided into two halves. Those who came here before Y2K or 2000 and those who came later. For the former it is a (pensioner's) paradise lost or as George puts it a city that has 'ceased to be a noun and became a verb' - 'Bangalored' the infamous byproduct of BPO boom.
However for those who came later, though they may happily forward WhatsApp jokes on Silk Board traffic or ubiquitous potholes and other civic maladies, they would still consider Bangalore a cool city when compared with other Indian metros.
As for George, who had come to the city during the high noon of its 'pensioners’ paradise' days, he felt that IT boom changed the city much differently from its earlier bouts of industrialization and migration. According to him the pre-IT immigrants made an effort to merge with Bangalore, but the latter were too desperate even to try. Hence the city has become a disparate mix of various linguistic and even country wise groups.
Painting a grim picture of the city he observes that the moneyed chase money and progress turns into perdition. He wants Bangaloreans to wake up before it is too late and signs off with a flourish - "Dawn does not come to the late riser".
Also Read: Random Jottings
Barely a couple of days after the east-west corridor of the Namma Metro (from Byappanahalli to Mysore Road) was thrown open to the public, I was waiting at Indiranagar metro station to go to Trinity Circle. I was approached by a middle-aged couple with their daughter in tow, "We want to go to Chickpet market, which will be the nearest station?" I made an educated guess, "Kempe Gowda station". Just then another person asked, “'To go to Visveshwaraya station, should I take the train to Mysore Road or Byappanahalli?”
I have been taking the metro off and on to beat the parking mess at M.G. Road, but this was the first time I was seeing so many passengers on the platform that too at an odd hour of around 12 noon on a working day. They all seem to be exploring what the extended purple line has on offer and their frustration with road traffic was more than palpable.
The fact that it offered connectivity to a commercial cum transport hub (Majestic) and the hot seat of babudom (Vidhana Soudha) and that too in air-conditioned comfort, away from the heat and dust of BMTC buses and auto rickshaws had excited many.
Curious, I too decided that one day I should go up to Mysore Road and the trip finally materialised after many postponements. The time was around 11.30 am, not exactly a peak hour, and at Indira Nagar station there were some 5-6 people in the queue.
Though it was nearly a month after East West corridor opened, the novelty had still not waned. There were still many people taking selfies, groupfies and family photos on the platform, much to the annoyance of security personnel. The train finally arrived and the loco pilot happened to be a woman. Male loco pilots seem to be a rarity in Namma Metro, don't recall seeing one myself.
After boarding, I had to make do with holding on to stirrups as no seats were vacant. When the trains were plying only up to M G Road, one could easily count on one's fingers the number of passengers per bogie. The succeeding stations like Ulsoor and Trinity only had passengers trickling in, with hardly anyone alighting. Only at MG Road there was some outflow.
The train then entered the much vaunted underground stretch ('the first in South India' gushed many of our city dailies) that took ages to get completed. The descent from Chinnaswamy stadium was gentle. The stations on the underground stretch looked as if they were hurriedly done up with some finishing work still pending. The 'jugaad' mindset was very much at play.
As the train pulled into Kempegowda station, there was a widespread churn and I did manage to get a seat. The station has the makings of a busy junction with trains gorging and disgorging passengers - a gentrified version of Dadar station in Mumbai.
As the train crossed Magadi Road station it was a gentle ascent out of the underground section. I must confess my knowledge of this side of Bangalore is very scanty and apart from Vijayanagar and Mysore Road, the rest of the stations like Hosahalli were indeed quite 'hosa' (new) to me.
The Mysore road station was quite a misnomer as none of landmarks such as Satellite Bus station or Gopalan Mall were anywhere close to it. As I stepped out it looked as if this station was built out of nowhere. The highway was buzzing with vehicles and so was the flyover above, with hardly any shops or restaurants nearby.
Anyhow it is a work in (slow) progress and with the purple line proposed to run up till Kengeri, its only a matter of time before the above landmarks become accessible by Namma Metro.
Tail piece: While waiting at Indiranagar station ticket counter I happened to see an unusual notice pasted on the glass panel. It stated that children above three feet height require full-ticket, or words to that effect. I just hope that the BMRCL personnel manning the ticket counters keep a measuring tape handy, in case they run into some stubbornly argumentative parents!
Also Read: Random Jottings
Bengalureans are now obsessed with the new numbers game and are sweating it out with gusto. No its not something as insipid as sudoku or the cricket scores, it is something far more 'mercurial' and also brings in lots of heat and dust in its wake.
This season the city was up and running in the 'heats' stage itself with the mercury touching 35.5 degrees Celsius on February 22, and even night temperatures offered little relief, as they too were 3-4 degrees above normal. The tempo continued, thanks to the elusive Mango showers, which played truant like Bangalore’s very own king of good times – Vijay Mallya.
Studies reveal that in first decade of 21st century the city lost 76% of vegetation cover (which got replaced by concrete cover) and suffered a 79% decline in water bodies, which is now taking its toll on its much vaunted salubrious weather.
Right now the much sought after magical figure is 40 and though the current 37ish may be good enough, we have even bested many of our rival cities - notably Chennai, but the yeh dil maange more craving persists.
The antennae of the city's start ups have sensed a huge market and they are installing small automatic weather stations across the city to record temperature and other data on a hyper local basis. Hence now we get to know which is warmer - Jayanagar or Hebbal, where your armpits are bound to sweat more – Koramangala or nearby Madiwala, all on your smartphone screens.
The other day weather app guys jumped the gun and announced that we have indeed achieved the nirvana (40 degrees), only to be scotched by weathermen from Indian Meteorological Department, who said not yet. Hence amid beads of sweat the wait continues over copious amounts of tender coconut water, fresh juices and not to forget the staple drink of this pub city - which helps us see the big 'pitcher'!
Also Read: Random Jottings
Hi, I am five years old and a creature of the jungle. I reside in the lush grassland in forests close to Bangalore and roam around long distances foraging for food. The shrinking of habitats and near disappearance of some of my usual preys often puts me face to face with what the deluded and self centred humans call civilization.
Despite advice from my elders I am often forced to take risks and venture into their concrete jungle. We are solitary animals and nocturnal hunters and very good at camouflage and stealth, hence we get rarely spotted by humans. Under night cover we enter their habitats and stealthily pounce upon stray dogs and other domesticated animals and vanish. It has been going on without much ado. As far as possible we avoid any panga with humans and vanish the moment we see them.
But on Feb 7 things went awry. I happened to stray into a building located close to an eucalyptus grove and somehow I failed to notice that someone was watching me. By the way one of my eyes have gone blind due to some mysterious reason.
After a few hours I saw lots of humans and noise. I quietly retreated to the bushes nearby. I was breaking into a cold sweat as I had never seen so many humans in my life. I decided to stay put there hoping no one finds me. I could either wait for the din to settle down to sneak out to the forest or wait till night to retreat. There was no sign of my Plan A happening as there was no let up in crowds and some even came with dogs in tow, making me all the more jittery thinking these canines might smell me out. Hence with bated breath I waited wishing the night to set in early.
Then suddenly I heard shrieks of excitement and a crowd moving towards me. I realised that I have been spotted. I was totally at my wits end as I could not see any escape route. I sneaked back to the building in panic and was utterly clueless where to hide. Meanwhile crowds outside the building swelled and I could even hear some deafening noises, followed by smoke and foul smell.
I darted from one room to another and later hid in one of them. I could hear voices and soon heard a loud noise and realised that a door has been shut and so was my escape route. I climbed up the window and realised that it had a soft mesh and soon I could push it away and ended up in another room. There too I saw a window with soft mesh and leapt out of the building.
I came close to strange looking water body. It was blue in colour. Soon I felt an excruciating pain in the belly as if being pierced by a thorn. The pain plus the presence of so many humans around and their murderous chants made me realise that I better fight back. I attacked six people who were in the vicinity. But later started feeling dizzy and collapsed.
Life in captivity
As I regained my senses, I realised that I was at a far less hostile environs, though I was yet to overcome the trauma and stress I had undergone few hours before. However I soon realised that there was little space for me to move around and it only aggravated my restlessness. In the neighbouring enclosure there was a tiger, who too was in the same predicament, but seemed foolishly content about it.
I just bided my time. Meanwhile I was getting treated for my wounds and felt nonplussed when provided with food at regular intervals by humans. I must confess I did enjoy getting food without having to sweat it out in long chases and climbing trees.
But the yearning for freedom was something I could not subdue. I kept a watch on my human captors and their activities. I kept a close watch on how my cage door was being opened while providing food. I realised that for them remaining alert during nights was quite a challenge.
Nearly a week later I lay in wait during night. I squeezed myself out the cage through a small opening. Then I climbed the tall trees close to the fence and jumped across and ran for my life.
I was finally free and back in the lap of nature I am thankful that my nightmare has ended.
Also Read: Random Jottings
A stroll down the pavement on HAL Airport Road from the airport entrance to Wind Tunnel road has now turned into an obstacle course with pedestrians often being forced to step on to the road and risk their lives.
Like any other footpath in Namma Bengaluru, this one too had its share of broken and unsteady slabs, is encroached upon and gets 'run over' by bikers during rush hour traffic. But now pedestrians have to contend with a far more formidable challenge – cement pipes.
Civic authorities have piled up giant pipes, mostly in a pyramidal formation, each about 20 feet long and having two feet diameter. These pipes are lying at various stretches of the footpath and occupy most of the space.
Hence that leaves the pedestrians with no option but to step on to the road and risk their lives, especially during office hours when for the motorists every inch counts.
While approaching the garbage collection point near Kemp Fort, one has to gingerly negotiate through the garbage residue and hold the breath to endure the everlasting stench. It becomes more acute when porakarmikas go on strike or those residing near the city’s landfills rise in protest.
If you happen to pass by when the garbage collection is in progress, with garbage trucks and autos parked on the side, you will be forced to walk right in the middle of the road with Volvo buses, autos and bikers breathing down your necks.
Next in line comes a bus shelter, which often doubles up as a restroom for cows, reminding the bus commuters of their cattle class status.
Like most squatters these pipes too seem to be in for a long haul. They have been lying for nearly a month and looks like the authorities have almost forgotten about it.
The pipes have already gathered a fair share of standard waste matter found on Indian streets - cigarette packets, liquor bottles, plastic tea cups, paper wrappers, tetra packs and plastic bags. Unless the civic authorities pull up their socks, dogs and bandicoots may soon start calling these pipes their home.
Also Read: Random Jottings
