Bang a lore
It is almost two months since I am finding myself stranded in a remote South Indian location with only a few other compatriots of ‘diverse’ (a word mostly used to overlook ‘fragmented’) origin. The state I had to choose among the only four was Karnataka (in my innocent days I used to think this is where Carnatic music derived its name from). Here I met some authentic Dravidian people, primitive and unadulterated by sophistication of any sort, may it be in physical stature, accent, food habits or their belief that true Indians are South Indians and all others are bloody immigrants (or poor refugees).
During my brief experience of Bangalore I tried to broadly categorize the people I came across and it was indeed cumbersome. For you meet strange sorts of people here. People who you would never want to meet again, people who may frighten you in the dark, people who you think should have replaced the masses by large, people (women, honestly) who you don’t believe belong here until you hear them grunt, people who are as unfortunate as you and are still struggling and people who are as unfortunate as you and have given in (they say they love idly, jojobath and other delicacies of compulsion).
Bangalore weather is indeed something that will keep on reminding you about itself every summer after you leave. Bikers wear plastic jackets in afternoon sun and people may even have to use a blanket at night (at least I used). I was told that Bangalore is a birdwatcher’s heaven (I hope guys can get me). Unfortunately I was not fortunate enough to be render it true and in a number of occasions my attempts of convincing myself of someone’s womanly attire made me feel gay. I have a friend who is very fair and hails from Bangalore. Somebody once mistook him for a Hayderabadi. He quickly jumped into rectification by telling “Do I look like I am from Hyderabad ?”. This was something I took a good note of. Somehow the racist ego (mostly based on skin color and facial frame) that is so commonplace and pertinent to the social stature in northern parts of India has not spared the Dravidians too.
A big menace you can be in here is being duped by a autorikshaw ‘dacoit’. They have shrewd plans of deceit and are completely free from morals. To confuse you (an outsider) over the fare they would make the best use of their mother tongue. Sometime you feel the fares are exorbitant and at other times you know you are being robbed. Robbed, even in the literal sense. One of my acquaintance got robbed of her laptop and other electronic valuables by a auto driver. So taking a note of the details of the driver printed in the auto is always a healthy practice.
If you guessed that Kannada localites loathed Hindi, you must immediately treat yourself with a mug of beer coz’ you are absolutely right. In several occasions they may answer you back in Hindi but would giggle at you and curse your language once you had turned your back (as long as you do not outnumber them). Bollywood though is not unpopular.People in northern parts of India mostly deny them distinction and classify them into the broad category called South Indian. People down here follow the policy of Tit for Tat. Most have almost as less knowledge about north India as a Pakistani has and they don’t even feel the need to know. They enjoy the right to introduce an extra ‘h’ after ‘t’ every time they write Kolkata.
Their movies are self mocking. With Rajkumar, the Hindu practice of idol worship reached a new dimension of lifeform worship. Years after he succumbed to the aftermath of Veerappan’s proximity, he is still worshiped with unmatched zeal. Throughout the city, there are huge cutouts of the ‘avatar’ dressed as a king (or a rakhshas). I was watching a relatively new movie which they call mass movie and it was supposedly a huge hit. It took me an hour and a few pats of assertion from my fellow inmates of this place (who had happened to pass through these peculiarities earlier) to accept the protagonist as the hero, as nobody more deserving (both physically and intangibly) seemed to appear.
The food that pleased your appetite may not offend your taste buds, the first time you encounter them but for all the days to come you will keep mourning that your first time is over. There are some traditional snacks based preparation which indeed are delicious but then their availability is a rarity. The daily diet makes you feel as if they have a deep well of sambar and they cultivate idlis on farmlands. Every time you sit to dine stale rice in its various avatars stare at you in apprehension and you can even hear them cursing you.
I am not a racist and I believe in love and unity of people in general. But my race or culture does not have a second cheek to extend as a mark of benevolence, if situation prompts. So if someone slaps once, however big a follower of Lagey raho Munnabhai I may be, I have no option left but to introduce my own directives. Moreover, in the light of these people’s claim of being authentic Indians I would like them to enumerate any contribution done by them in Indian’s freedom struggle. I can hardly remember any instance or any name from my history lessons that might help them in that respect.
