Milking Holy Cow Dry

Few months ago I witnessed a rather curious sight near the Murgeshpalya bus shelter during the morning rush hour. It was drizzling, but no one was willing to take refuge inside the shelter - some were taking a chance by exposing themselves to the drizzle, while others had unfurled their umbrellas or put on the hoods of their jackets. From a distance it seemed ridiculous to me, but as I came closer I realised their seemingly foolish act was probably the most pragmatic option under those circumstances.

The shelter was 'occupied' by some 3-4 cows and some of them were merrily carrying  out their morning ablutions, quite unmindful of the 'sick hurry and divided aims' (apology to Matthew Arnold) of two-legged denizens. The bus stand is located close to a vacant area (read unofficial garbage dump) and hence for cows it was a favourite haunt, come rain or sunshine.

Like any city in India Bangalore has a substantial presence of cows, though in terms of numbers it may not be a match to cities located in country's 'cow belt'. For most owners their holy cow act ends after they have milked them to their last drop in the morning. After that our four-legged friends are left to fend for themselves till night. With alarming drop in city's cover of gomal (grazing) land, thanks to the rapacious builder-politician nexus, cows have to make do with garbage heaps and vegetable markets to keep their body and soul together.  

I often come across vegetable vendors, quite literally, go bananas trying fob them off as they make a dash for green vegetables or overhanging plantains. Quite often these cows court health hazard by eating things like plastic bags and paper. The city's civic authorities have passed laws against stray cattle menace, but they are not even worth the paper these cattle chomp and regurgitate on a daily basis.

Though cows are too docile to be a menace like dogs, but they do end up dirtying public places and sometimes also cause traffic snarls. Their sheer size and languid demeanour often comes in the way of ever increasing traffic flow on the city roads. It's not an uncommon sight to see them happily lounging in the middle of the road and shooing away flies using their tails or flapping their ears; while they take motorists' desperate honking as if it were happening in some other planet. Traffic policemen shoo them away using lathis and they reluctantly get up and amble off in a speed that is comparable to Indian Railway's IRCTC website.

Once a former colleague of mine told me that she was waiting at a bus stop and talking on phone. Suddenly out of blue she experienced a jet of hot air on her neck. Startled she looked back to see the nostrils of a cow in close proximity. She quickly moved away as she was unknowingly blocking gau mata's path.

Their exalted place in the Hindu mythology keeps the general public from rubbing them the wrong way, but their owners seem to have little concern about their welfare and that too totally evaporates once they fall sick or past their milk yielding age.

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Mockery of Fire Drill

We have heard all this before - that life is cheap in India, disaster management is not at all a priority for our society. And Bangalore is no exception to all this. Two years back the Carlton fire tragedy exposed how safety measures were sacrificed by the builder at the altar of greed, and how officials winked and signed all the dotted lines - again for a price. It was often said that we as a nation are least bothered about safety measures.

Look at Japan, we were told, how well they cope with disasters. They conduct regular drills and that is why they are able to do all that. When Carlton became a national TV spectacle, with people jumping off from the building in panic, the need for fire drills gained currency.

But what happened on February 24, 2012, almost exactly two years after the Carlton tragedy (it happened on February 23, 2010) reveals that we are ill-equipped even to carry out such drills, leave alone dealing with the actual tragedy. Maybe the organisers need to go on 'phoren' tour to learn all this.

A fire drill at a readymade garment factory in the Yeshwanthpur industrial suburbs went haywire causing the death of a woman employee. As per the drill, the employees were asked to use a rope to climb down from the fourth storey. She was the second person to do so and in the midway the rope snapped and the rest was history.

Several disturbing questions come to my mind. Firstly was it necessary that the employees had to risk their lives by climbing down from fourth floor and that too without a safety net. Forget snapping of rope, what about people with dizziness and fear of heights, won't they panic? Couldn't they have used a dummy to demonstrate it.

Climbing down a rope is no joke. Military personnel practice for months to master it. Maybe, they thought garment factory workers were Supermen and Spiderman by default!

There are also reports that the rope used was an old one and of poor quality. Not only that some had raised objections regarding the rope, but the fire department officials chose to ignore it. Anyhow now no amount of debating or inquiries would bring any solace to the woman's near and dear ones.

In my previous office we used to have fire drills carried out by one private agency, but we never had to do such risky stunts. In fact, it was the other extreme, they used to be hilarious affairs. A Colonel Blimp type guy used to take centre stage and, quite literally, bark on the microphone and some of his assistants and office volunteers (ostensibly named Emergency Response Team) used to do a demo on how to carry out rescue act.

He used to pick up volunteers for 'fire victims' randomly from the audience and used to address each one of them with film star names. "Hey Madhuri Dixit, come here?" or "hey Salman Khan don't hide behind the red shirt guy, come to the stage?"

I still recall him telling one woman 'victim' volunteer, "Don't think 'oh I am a woman, how can these men hold me'." and turning to the volunteers he said, "You should promise that you would see her as your sister and nothing else." It used to be quite tough to keep a straight face. 

And 'backbenchers' like me used to slip off to the nearest food court in our office campus. In fact these drills used to 'fire up' sales at the food court and bunk shops located outside the campus. That of course shows the other very typical Indian mindset - "Nothing will happen to me".

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Warming winters

While watching NDTV 24x7 my attention often gets drawn to the running ticker below showing live temperatures of various cities in the country. And often I feel quite alarmed on seeing Bangalore's temperature, which seems always on the higher side during winters. Quite often it is even higher than Mumbai, which has more of a tropical coastal weather.
 
This winter was rather freakish all over India, with temperatures falling below the usual levels and places like Dehra Dun even experiencing snowfall - something that had never happened in that hill station for decades. But alas, no such pleasant surprises for Bangaloreans. Here whatever little cool breeze we experience in the winter mornings vanish with the early rays of sunshine. After that the scorching sun takes centrestage and then it is little different from April-May, and we wait for sunset for some relief. Sweater, jackets seem redundant (unless you are riding a bike) or more of a fashion statement.
 
The other day I read a news report that average temperature in the city was rising at a faster rate than other places. Scientists claim that while the temperatures world wide rose by one degree in 100 years, in the Garden City it did so by two degrees. It is a startling finding and I feel the days of 40-plus degree centigrade summers is round the corner. Experts says all this is due to massive urbanisation following the IT boom.
 
The city seems to be broadly suffering from two sets of problems - one that every city undergoing rapid urbanisation is afflicted with and the other due to the city's peculiar characteristics such as topography, climate. The city's bewildering pace of urbanisation had caught everyone off guard. The results have been dwindling tree cover and an exponential increase in concrete structures. Even trees on footpaths seem to be weakening with roots getting choked by masonary and leaves are getting exposed to fumes from ever increasing vehicular population.
 
The city's burgeoning population has put its lakes under stress. Many of them either got vanished to carry out 'development' and some have been reduced to overgrown drains to dump effluents. Some of the city's landmarks such as Kempegowda bus station, Kanteerva stadium and National Dairy Research Institute are actually situated on lake lands. Guess, those days environment was not a strong constituency and these measures may have had the blessings of the people.

The city is actually staring at a major water crisis and if nothing timely is done to preserve the depleting water table, the problem would only worsen. Moreover since the city is located on a plateau, its ecology is all the more fragile.
 
Frankly I see not much remedial measures happening. The city fathers have raised the pitch for rain water harvesting, but it has a long gestation period. Surprisingly not much is being talked about  water recycling. The government should get proactive and set up recycling plants in all wards to collect waste water for recycling. It should make it mandatory that only recycled water should be used for industrial purposes. And also in bathrooms and for activities like washing cars, gardening etc. The situation calls for really drastic measures.
As a passing thought I often see water lorries spilling around water as the move on the road. Something needs to be done to curb this criminal waste.

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A Pipeline Too Far

The Embassy Golf Link tech park was probably one of the first movers in turning the city to a silicon valley and its golf course was immortalized by Thomas Friedman in his book The World Is Flat. 

But if one leaves the futuristic looking steel and glass structures with neatly manicured lawns and the expansive green patch of the golf course and move towards Challaghata side one gets transported to one of the city's nightmarish civic black holes.

Forget potholes, here the whole stretch of road seems perennially dug up with giant pipes on one side, waiting to be laid, and huge mound of mud on the other side - dusty during summer and slushy during monsoons. I have been seeing this infrastructure mayhem for the past one year, but I guess this Martian landscape was painstakingly carved out by the Bangalore civic authorities at a much earlier date.

The nightmare begins after you cross the Microsoft office. The neat roads with manicured lawns give way to prehistoric pathways. We have to take a detour as the road has vanished due to pipeline works. The detour passes next to a newly-constructed, but not occupied steel and glass structure. Then comes another detour and we get a feel of a halli-like locality prone to water logging. After that we come face to face with the giant pipes lying strewn on one side and dirt track in its full glory.

Thankfully I rarely venture on this road and stopped taking it altoghether after I realised that the civic chaos has gotten better off my car's ground clearance. I really sympathise with people who use this road on a daily basis. This road helps techies coming from Bellandur or Marthahalli to avoid many traffic bottlenecks and signals. This apology for road, however, beats the purpose. At around 10.30 am there is often a traffic bedlam punctuated with mindless honking and frayed tempers.

I wonder how those residing near this road are coping with all this chaos on a daily basis. They may not even be able to keep their windows open due to the dust and noise, not to mention the harrowing commute.

It looks like the civic authorities first wanted to lay the pipeline and then re-lay the road. But unfortunately the pace at which the work is progress(zzz..)ing it would make even a snail triumphantly wonder “wow! am I daydreaming or on steroids”.

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Change kodi saar

The city's gargantuan appetite for loose change defies all limits. Whether you are dealing with auto drivers, bus conductors or supermaket cashiers, the common refrain will be 'change kodi saar'. 

This reaction, mind you, is not just for wide off the mark transaction like say Rs 500 for something worth Rs 40, but for even close ones like say Rs 50 for something worth Rs 42. The shops and supermarkets will make you fish out Rs 2 so that they can give back a Rs 10 note and not part with their shiny, jangly, Re 1 or Rs 2 coins in their cash boxes. In case of autos you will have to wait till he blinks and agrees to part with change or agree for 'round offs' - of course in the driver's favour.

Bus conductors have this practice of scribbling down the balance amount on the back of the ticket, which I sometimes forget to claim in the melee to wade through the crowd to get down at the destination or sometimes remember only after getting off. I am sure there might be many like me, but looks like all that is not enough for the BMTC to be in the pink of financial health!

The one particular incident that really takes the cake was when I went to pay my telephone bill at a Bangalore One centre. The bill amount was Rs 331 and I had zealously preserved a couple of hundreds and few tenners for the purpose. At the counter I gave them three Rs 100 notes, a Rs 20 note, a Rs 10 note and a two rupee coin. Even then the women at the counter had the cheek to say she does not have Re 1 to pay balance. The sheer exasperation writ large on my face made her cower a bit and she immediately sought the next counter girl's help and did manage to give back Rs 1 coin. The first thing I did after coming home was to sign up for paying phone bills through netbanking!

At another instance, on reaching Yeshwanthpur railway station by taxi, I extended a Rs 500 note to the driver as the agreed amount was Rs 400. The driver parroted the same "Change kodi ..." response but I decided to not budge. I had no choice but to be stubborn, as on that particular day even the ATMs were unkind to me. They were doling out only Rs 500 notes and came up with 'invalid transaction' message whenever I keyed in amounts below Rs 500. Finally the driver relented and returned a Rs 100 note and, in fact, he had a thick wad of same denomination notes tucked in his purse.

This unexplained urge to hoard loose change totally beats me.  

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Dogged by strays

The other day I was walking through a dark alley (at around 9.30-10 pm) on my way to a stationery shop. I felt as though someone from behind was scratching on my right shoulder. And to my horror I found that it was actually the paw of a stray dog. I was shaken by fear. The stray then started barking and snarling menacingly at me.

I immediately groped in the dark for the nearest pebble and threw at it and, out of sheer panic, widely missed the target. The folks at the stationery store also happened to see my predicament and shooed away the canine. Just then a person came, probably the 'keeper' of the stray, and was complaining as to how dare I throw stones at his beloved doggie!

Like any other Indian city Bangalore has its generous share of stray dogs, but I doubt whether their four-legged cousins in other cities enjoy such a strong constituency among humans as in this city. It is a common sight to see people treating them with biscuits and even fondling them. This is despite the fact that there have been repeated instances of attacks (often fatally) on small children by these four-legged denizens.

Every attack on kids raises the tempo of debate and media spotlight on stray dog menace. The city fathers swing into action and order dog culling. Once culling begins, pictures (in very graphic details) gets splashed in newspapers and TV channels and that in turn draws howls of indignation from 'animal lovers' groups. Culling stops, things come to a standstill and the issue of proliferating strays gets forgotten till another attack takes place.

Among animal lovers there are some incorrigible romantics whose stand towards strays is akin to that of Indian state's approach towards Ajmal Kasab or Afzal Guru.

Sterilisation seems to be the only humane (though time consuming) and credible option but, despite claims from municipal authorities, I think it is being done with as much zest as family planning programmes for humans in BIMARU states (Bihar, Madhya Pradesh, Rajasthan, Uttar Pradesh). Thanks to such a tepid response, newly-born litters squealing and gamboling near garbage heaps (one big reason for attracting strays) is a very common sight.

As for incorrigible romantics I mentioned before, a visit to the family of those kids injured or killed by dog attacks would be a very sobering experience.

Or even better they take up some jobs that involves night shifts and go back home, well after midnight, on bicycles or maybe take a cab and get down one or two stops before their destination and walk down the rest of distance through small lanes. The goose bumps they would get on being chased by dogs would be a chastening experience.

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Tree-less at Suranjan Das road

When I came to Bangalore about six years back, driving through the Suranjan Das road, off HAL Airport Road, was not exactly a pleasure (probably only NICE road in the city can offer that), but it did offer some pleasant takeaways. The rows of trees on both sides of the road was a soothing sight, even while snailing though the traffic jams or negotiating a pothole.

Many of the trees looked quite ancient and imposing, providing ample shade even in April sunshine. Drives during rainy seasons though was sometimes dicey, as with most Bangalore roads, with the threat of trees with roots weakened by footpaths giving up on life. Moreover we had filled-to-brim potholes to contend with.

I was not a regular at this road and my forays used to be during those rare weekend visits to meet relatives and friends either at CV Raman Nagar or Banaswadi and beyond. During one of those visits, I was shocked to see some trees near the HAL market pulled down. The once imposing trees were reduced to mere stumps. As I moved a little further I saw JCBs and other earth movers at work.

Just couldn't figure out what it was all about. Have been reading in papers as to how residents in the city were vociferously protesting felling of trees for Metro construction, but here it seemed conspicuous by its absence. No signs of protests were visible. I guessed the trees were cut to widen roads, but left me wondering why dig such deep trenches using JCBs? Moreover, barricades of Namma Metro added to my confusion. However, I dismissed the thought of any metro coming here as I remember seeing these barricades at almost all infrastructure sites ranging from flyovers to drainages. Guess some corporation guy thought this would be a bright idea to create a hype over city's next-gen mode of transport.

Later on I read in papers that the a four-lane road was coming up to ease congestion for vehicles going to Bagmane Tech Park. When I happened to pass through Suranjan Das road a few weeks later it was sheer massacre. The line-up of trees on one side of the road had been almost wiped out and the remaining ones were being felled using motorised blades. Traffic was getting diverted through parallel roads and men were busy hauling up tree trunks to mini lorries. Huge trunks were lying strewn all over the road and it almost resembled a lumber yard. For the timber contractors I guess it must have been, quite literally, a windfall.

It made me wonder as to why transplanting these valuable trees was not thought of as an option. How old these trees were and how many years it would take to have such full grown trees, assuming that the authorities keep their promise of planting fresh trees. 

A Google search revealed that the road was named after a pioneer IAF test pilot and it was built way back in the 1940s to connect its Aero Engine division with the main factory on Airport Road. So I am assuming that these trees were planted in the 1940s or maybe even predate the road. One entry also said that "for over five decades, this road had remained calm and pollution-free, where people jogged in peace". Looks like a another era altogether!

On my last visit the stretch between HAL junction and BEML gate had huge pipes dotted on the sides. It seems the pipeline has to get over before the road is made into a four-lane one. The only saving grace is that the park opposite to HAL Public School and the adjoining teak park have not been touched yet.

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