India Wrapup Part 1: Bangalore City Walk

Evening, Sacramento May 3^rd, 2010

Dear Reader-

The conference is over, I’m home, living and working the Sacramento – Davis circuit. I feel I owe you more about India – some sort of take away message, something to sum it up so you can carry a small piece with you. After talking about my trip with friends, and printing all my pictures, I’ve realized how quickly India is fading from my senses. How fast I can slip back into happy routine. Let’s first try and remember some things for you and for me... then we’ll discuss reintegration into California life.

My last day in the city- Bangalore City.

Rebecca agreed to give me her tour of the city, goals were set: Walk Cubon park, see the red government building, shop the city market and visit the bull temple. By this time I was feeling experienced, the idea of walking the city without a guild was invigorating rather than intimidating (see first India entry for contrast). I took the shuttle to the IISC campus and met with Rebecca for a coffee starter. Sitting with my coffee, being the only foreigners among the crowd of Indian students I caught a taste of fame. I (we) felt a bit famous... and yes... it remained unsaid, but we carried that though the day. Try and pick out some examples of my inflated ego in the next paragraphs dear reader.

Autorickshaw to the government builds. Courthouse is red. Strong wine-brick red. No I know nothing of its history, why the city is proud of the color. Have a look at the picture for yourself. The government building has a nice quote on the front – “Government work is God's work”. There was a small crowd of local visitors, fruit sellers and camera men mulling around. The only solictation we recieved was from an auto driver who wanted to offer a tour of the bull temple for 40 Ru’s. He followed us for some time, and we thought to take him up on it, but when we sat in the back of the auto he announced that we’d have to stop for gas and to have a look at his friends shop... Bee rolled her eyes and whispered “scam”. We politely excused ourselves. After a sugarcane drink (probably not wise for my foreign stomach) and a fruit basket (30 Ru’s of Tasty!) we walked through Cubon park.

This is the city park. Bangalore is called “The Garden City”, I’ve seen a lot of trash here, not a lot of garden, but Cubon park was a step in the garden direction. Like my dorm and the JNC campus it had a feel of nature overgrowth. Something like the paths-less-traveled in central park, NYC. Exotic birds. Packs of happy dogs. A colonial gazebo – yes it really reeked of British good taste. It was here I started taking the photos through my sunglasses – so you can see as I see dear reader. Please realize that it’s not just a walk in the local park to me, but a statement about history and values in the Garden City. The park’s a nice place, but looks like it’s more popular with the birds and dogs.

We auto’d to the city market! Reader, I had no idea what the city market would be like: maybe a street of little shops with people buying vegetables and crafts. Try now and imagine yourself. Good. The auto deposited us at the convergence of 3 streets and a rotary, on my right was a big dusty lot of a bus depot. People, motos, autos, fruit, cows & crafts converged and crossed. Getting out of the auto was a bit like plunging into that pool of coldish water – you know you’ll be fine and start to enjoy it, but the first few seconds are a shock. Bee and I made our way to some sort of island in the middle of the convergence. It’s very hot, humid and I’m wearing my cool traveler shades & red shoes. Bee asks some young girls where the city market is, they point in the direction of a large building peaking out of a dense crowd of people and shops across the road convergence. At first the building vaguely reminds me of the Fleet Center in Boston before the big dig: a large building surrounded emerging from the underworld streets. As we get closer, the market theickens with flowers, dried chillis, sweets, cows, cookware. Closer still and then I realize that the building is the market, not the vendors outside. Then the explosives go off and smoke and drums fill in the crowd at the buildings entrance. We learn that a commissioner or consult is visiting the market. People are rushing in to touch him and talk to him, it’s more of a mob than a political rally. Later we learn that this politician is pushing to take the street vendors off the street outside the market – the desired result would be to get more people into the market. I can see how this could be a problem... there’s lots of people and excitement at the foot of the market, not like the inside...

We head inside after picture taking, it’s much calmer inside. Everyone seems to be focused outside or on the politician. Alleys of small shops surround interior atriums. You can look over the banisters up and down and see that there are three levels of shops. The lighting is dim, flickering, it smells of dust and flowers on this floor. Natural light is filtered through baskets, bedframes, cooking tools, fabrics and sewing machines. It bounces off mirrors and small groups of children. They play around us, then ask (almost force with cuteness) for us to take their pictures. What a pleasant experience after the storm outside. Business is slow today so shop owners take the time ask us the usual questions- what country are you from? Is this your first time to India? Bee and I make a funny pair – the Brit lady and American chap – she tall & fair, I tall & bearded, both curious, neither fat & loud. Eyes follow us as we explore the building; after bartering for a bracelet with a red turbaned man we head upstairs. . The third floor is dedicated to tools and mechanical parts. There seem to be many stores selling the same thing – drills, drill bits, wrenches, tools and more tools. I ended up buying a 14/15mm wrench and a nice pair of wire cutters for a total of ~$7. We got into a conversation with the shop owner who sold me the wire cutters. We were offered tea, my suspicions that he was a Muslim were confirmed. He explained the philosophy of the 3^rd floor shop owner – how can we (all tool shops) sell almost the same thing? God will send us costumers if it is his will. It’s his genuine faith that God will provide him with enough sales. What a large step away from capitalist philosophy! Reader – glace the picture of us together... see my forced smile and his earnestness.

Bee and I departed the city market for a walk to the bull (Nandi) temple. We thought to walk because walking the way to live the city. The walk was fruitful, Bee bought apples, men pee’d in outdoor toilets, we talked with youth making signs (picture please) and got caught in the rain. Smooth stone steps with large brass railing led us up to the temple and the rain lessened as we ascended. A small square with small vendor, platform shrine to snake god, and shoe keeper greeted us. Shoe deposit. The bull temple is deserted for the moment. One priest greats us, we’re blessed. This large Nandi (bull) is one that Shiva rode. It’s form is sitting, with a white eye and flowers around its neck. We can take a walk around it, past a small Ganesh, and back to the front. Rain soaked, blessed, we take a rest on the nearby stone platforms as a small family enters. There’s also a temple devoted to Ganesh – elephant god of wisdom and intellect, patron of arts and sciences just down the hill. With Ganesh I make an earnest attempt at prayer, something about getting though grad school, staying focused, keeping my mind open... Actually it’s a little difficult. I’m not in the habit of prayer, and I feel out of place in this temple, but the atmosphere here is sincere and so are my intentions.

That’s the end of Bangalore city for me dear reader. I made it back and slept some hours before picking up a cab to the airport. This entry has lasted longer then I intended. I owe you another two: first about the science and second about returning to life back in California. Please be patient dear reader, they’re both inside me I’ll have to let them out sometime soon.