Rediscovered Bangalore...and fell in love!

It was after a long time, I decided to go out for breakfast rather than having my standard 2 min oatmeal and a milky coffee. It was a good decision. The fact that the chosen day coincided with the first gay pride march in Bangalore only added to everything that was in the city's favor. The destination was Koshy's, and the time 9 AM. 9 AM is quite late for breakfast to other busy city's standards where Mc Donald starts serving breakfast from 4 AM. Anyway - we reached Koshy's, and realised we were too late to arrive on a day when Appam and Stew is served in this old restaurant. But I didn't mind losing to others today. The crowd in Koshy's was different today - rainbow colors everywhere.And not the promiscuous hijra on the signals of Bangalore; these were regular people. In all possibilities - the guy next door could have been there adorned in the rainbow turban. They were all out of their closets.I respected their spirits.Being middle class has so many disadvantages. You're not in either extremes to have less opposition to your acts. You're middle class - the bottom of the pyramid...the most resistance. Your parents will ever have enough money to invest in you to have to pursue "safe" career choices and have socially accepted behaviors. The crowd in Koshy's were people like me - middle class, and yet more mature than me. They have been tamed by denial of their very true selves; they had to struggle hard to breathe..to laugh that careless laughter.Not only are they individualistic, they have confidence in their individuality and have expressed that individuality in creative art forms.

That I realised what I loved Bangalore for - the support system to pursue creative art forms - no matter what it is. The city of coffee and masala dosa is also the city of music and art and theatre.The city where you do your own thing and not be looked at. The city where you can take your doodles seriously.

I then walked by Brigade road and MG Road - places I've forgotten in the mad rush of mushrooming malls.( In fact I don't remember the last time I ventured out of home on a weekend more than 5 kms:)) The cooffee and dosa store, the magazine store where you can find all the magazines in the world, the "pecos" pub - where its only about meeting your old gang over music and which has not given away to "sleaze" and "noise" and "big bucks", the street store where I used to buy trendy footwear for Rs.100 each....and eventually Crossword; by far my favorite in Bangalore where I discovered Van Gogh,Klimt, Calvin & Hobbes, Agatha Chritie - reminiscences of a time of my life where things were near perfect.

Thanks gay pride march, you revealed that side of Bangalore which I loved.

Outsourcing...a joke!

Today I heard one more of those perennial jokes on outsourcing..(some have better names and call them "captives" and "economic arbitrage" and "talent pool optimization" and "leveraging time zones" blah!!)..A man wanted to outsource the cleaning of his ears...and an Indian doctor wins the bid. He claims he is professionally equipped to clean ears. I bet he is!

I seriously need a career change now!

For you Red River...I continue to live

Red River …You know it’s for you. It’s for you I started writing, and it’s for you I have attempted in the past and continue to do it even now to write. And yes, today, after all these days I read your comment about life’s is to live and not pedal. And that was way back in November, 2007!

Well, I’ve lived in between. Pedaled may be at times, but pedaled because I wanted to live.

And before I go ahead, let me tell you even though I had been planning to get back to writing – what prompted me is your post on Father’s Day. No, that can’t be true. Your magic still works on me. I receive an email from you, and the bounce returns to my steps. I may not write back to you. But I live for the next few days. May be I don’t give you the pleasure of knowing that your magic worked. But yes, I live for the next few days. And hence it hurt to see you hurt.

Hmm…how life has changed in between? For one, I’ve become paranoid. Well, what else can you expect after you see a young cousin living with you in the same house become a mass of decaying flesh? Not too much a bright picture there. I end up thinking about those who are dear to me – without whom my life’s well n-o-t-h-i-ng. (Can you ever imagine such a picture, Red River? Its scary!)And to add to that my friend suggested me to read Rhonda Bryne’s secret. And now I dread my thoughts. I got this feeling that I control their lives, the outcomes in their lives –and the thought made me paranoid! A complete freak. I became obsessed with praying, in forced positive thinking….and a helpless state of nervousness. And it doesn’t help when the thoughts conceived in a human mind tends towards the negative zone.

When you can visualize smelling the daffodils, you only end up imagining a rowdy taxi driver executing his evil plans – the same driver who was supposed to drive you to the daffodil field.
It’s a scary world – a father murders a young girl (somehow such crimes don’t freak me!), a boyfriend rapes the trusting girl alonghis gang of friends, brutal accidents, bomb blasts….life was never a certainty, but now more so and with more vengeance, more blood, more pain. I value life. Can’t anyone grant me a calm, peaceful life?

I’m not even talking of murders of the other kind…mental killing ; killing the individuality, the spirit. I’m not even going there. I’m talking of basics here – the ability to breathe air everyday, the ability to move the vocal chords and respond, the ability to move the limbs around and just be there! It is not much - I’m not asking for the moon.

Now you know – Red River, I’ve got frayed nerves. But I’m getting better.

The good news is I discovered crayons and colors, movies and comics, books and craftwork……..to become normal again, to live and not pedal.

Love you – Red River. How will I do without you!