Missing Bangalore in Bangalore

I think I can’t write on Bangalore, the city where I am born and brought up. A biased view, I am afraid, would come in the way and the picture would not be in its true colors. I think I know the metropolis fairly well, but the blind love would not allow me criticizing it. I may end up eulogizing the notionally pleasant weather and large large-hearted people.

I can certainly write on Hyderabad, the city that feeds me. No fear of becoming biased with my heart being somewhere else- and I am sure the writing would be objectively critical. But, the problem is I am blind to the city in the first place as I am yet to discover it. The hot weather and indifferent vehicle driving are just peripheral experience that is not an adequate stuff to write about a city like Hyderabad.

So, I am caught in between blind love and blind vision. My relationship with Bangalore is a natural love affair, while it is an arranged marriage between me and Hyderabad. Love gives you high and in the kick you can’t sense its grotesqueness. On the other hand an arranged marriage prompts you to be apprehensive about your yet-to-be- discovered partner and you are ever ready to put the person under scanner.

When I landed in Hyderabad twelve years ago for a brief period of employment, for the first time, I did not find it strange as the sounds of the city had a streak of acquaintance. Bangalore had already introduced me to Reddys and Naidus, who were not any different in Hyderabad. The visual was not strange either because the Telugu film posters were more ubiquitous on Bangalore walls than those in Hyderabad. While our own Soundarya had set the silver screen ablaze, a gyrating Megastar was no way alien. In fact, the cacophony with all the known elements had made me feel at home.

A visit to Chennai was even more unsurprising. It was just like slipping from my neighbourhood Chamrajpet, where the atmosphere is a mix of Kannada, Tamil, and Urdu, to the neigbouring Srirampura, where Tamil is dominant. I am deliberately not mentioning cantonment area in this regard. Bangalore Cantonment is certainly a Tamil area, but it has a European blend in its culture as it was in the Madras province during British rule. I didn’t find this part of Bangalore in Chennai. It was more like being in Srirampura, when I roamed around Paris, heart of Chennai city, with the Thumbis and Machhas around. When you go to Srirampura in Bangalore, a Macchi -- it is a distortion of Machha the saala or brother-in-law -- will greet you. And if the same thing happens to you at Chennai, then there is need for a Bangaloerian to feel out of place. Moreover, our stylish bus conductor is the style king there, and our Melukote Cheluvi is the Selvi and Puratchi Talaivi there.

When I was in Delhi, I didn’t miss Bangalore at all. Mysore was the first city in pre-independent India to take up the cause of Hindi propagation and Hindi Prachara Sabha is still an icon of the heritage city. In Bangalore, a clone of Mysore, Hindi is as natural as the breathing air. Bhachhans and Khans are loved here not just because Sholay was shot at the rocky Ramnagar or Coolie and Coolie No.1 were filmed in Bangalore, but because the Bollywood is in the heart of a Kannadiga because the Rashtrabasha is in his blood as a manifestation of his Desh Bhakthi. And Shivaji Nagar’s Urdu makes you feel gallis of Dilli your own.

So, wherever you go you will find Bangalore. But, can you find Bangalore in Bangalore? I had not encountered this question until I came to the city for a holiday after spending a few months in Hyderabad. On my entry to the city, a piece of Hyderabad welcomed me; the same Telugu film posters and loud dancy music. It was early in the morning and a paper vender was sorting out the bundles of morning newspapers on pavement, and the biggest bundle was that of Sakshi, the Jagan-owned Telugu daily. Second in size was of its archrival Eenadu. Where is the question of missing Hyderabad in Bangalore?

Even Chennai was very much alive in the city. The coffee shop owner gave an impression that he just can’t follow a word that is not Tamil; even steamy idly and sambar was just spreading nothing but Chennai flavor.

An auto rickshaw driver, a security at the gate of the apartment, and a vender of pani poori were all helpful in reminding me of Delhi.

But, where is Bangalore? It would be exaggeration if I say I did not hear a word of Kannada in Bangalore; it was there in the intimate circles of friends and families. I was happy to find a piece of Bangalore under the rubble of many pieces of Bangalore.

Whenever I speak to my Bangalore friends over phone in Kannada, my Hyderabad friends ask whether it wasTamil. In Bangalore, when a person speaks Telugu, or Tamil, or Hindi, I have seen no Kanndiga ever asking which language it was. I think that is the essence of Bangalore.