Coming from a still conservative Chennai where she had to
cover up her whole body every day on her way to college on a death mobile that
is eerily named as share-auto, my daughter found Bangalore or Bengaluru if you
may, to be the stuff of her dreams. Having escaped the sweltering heat of
Chennai for a cool summer internship in Bengaluru, after few days she declared
“ Dad, I feel like I’m in a foreign land”
Stepping on to Lavelle road or la-velly road as the locals like to call it when I see Lamborghinis zip
by and Porsches parked everywhere I nod in agreement.
Really? Does Bengaluru qualify as a foreign country…let us find out:
Epicurean delight
The King of Good Times may have flown out, but he has left
the good times intact as Kingfisher still gives the craft beer scene a run for
its money. After your fill of draught beer by the pitchers, you can walk into
Empire hotel well past midnight to have piping hot saadi-ka-biryani and wash
it all down with a pitcher of pulpy Arabian grape juice.
Walk
into any pub – any time of the day, you can catch up with a clutch of girls
bonding over highballs and bloody Mary, laughing and lounging all on their own.
If the pub-scene is not for you, you can enjoy a breath-taking view of the bustling MG
Road from top of Barton Centre on the 13th floor while you sip your
single malt and tuck into some delectable chicken satays
Even my exacting German friends enjoy the Oktoberfest like ambience all throughout the year. So round one, Bengaluru wins hands down in the wine and dine
stakes.
Ramp walk on the
roads
Step onto Brigade road, MG Road or St. Marks road on a Friday
night or Saturday evening, you’ll see fashionistas in miniskirts, LBDs, high
heels and spaghetti tops elbowing their way through the milling weekend crowd unmindful
of raised eyebrows, cigarette dangling from manicured digits, puffing away with
an attitude to match.
So, when it comes to fashion, well you know Deepika Padukone
used to shop here, so no contest here. Bengaluru here I come..
Where can I park my
Rolls Royce?
If you are still not convinced, wait till you get to the swanky
UB City. My eyes popped out at the sign board that read Premium Parking Rs.
1000 per hour! And I believe, even when
the rich are ready to shell out that kind of money, they still won’t find
parking space for their Jags and Rolls.
Luxury? yes you don’t have to tell me- I can see it all
around me and my head is spinning already.
High fliers at
Airlines Hotel
It is a lazy Sunday morning in May, the weather widget on my
mobile shows a breezy 24⁰C – and I rub my eyes to check if it is my Madras eye that is playing tricks. It is
Bengaluru – you silly, I chide myself as I walk into Airlines Hotel to have a
cup of their famous filter coffee served in thick glasses.
The cheap plastic
chairs and cracked tables spread out on the open space under a canopy of trees
present a stark contrast to the bling and style flaunted by the people who
frequent this place. I realized that I
should quickly grab these plastics, else it may be taken before I can say Puliyogare. The
regulars? of course they are content to lazily slouch on the plush leather
seats of their Volkswagen Beetles and order a kara bath.
As I sip my coffee and look around, I could see the well-rounded
butt of a Maruti Swift sticking out like a sore thumb from a sea of Mercedes
and Audis incredulously parked. As I walk out I relish the freedom I have
compared to these proud owners who may reverse out of this parking lot only by
Monday morning.
It is nothing compared to the once sprawling woodlands drive
in hotel at Chennai, but still it is a niche place I agree.
Multilingual
cacophony
As in cosmopolitan city, you'll find a mix of all languages in Bengaluru. Everywhere you turn, you’ll
hear Marathi, Konkani, Telugu, Bangalore-Tamil, Hindi and Kannada in that order.
You can bargain in all these languages and get a good deal. The average autowalla in Bangalore is a certified
polyglot who’ll ask you for one-and-half meter charge in 7 different languages.
True that.
A very Commercial street
You must spend some time in Commercial street even if you
don’t want to buy anything. It is not exactly Bond Street, but don’t let the
hole- in- the wall shops fool you. Look around and you’ll find fake Gucci bags and
pencil stilettos at – well, commercial rates. But forget the rates – the myriad
choices in these shops will redefine your notion of retail therapy. A far cry
from the dowdy flea market that is (was?) T. Nagar that still hawk Tirupur
discards and knick-knacks that I had seen when I was in school.
No competition here too
But, hold your horses
Ok, now that you have drunk in the sights and sounds of this
foreign country, don’t you rush to
apply for a visa…There are some things that will bring you crashing down to
earth .
These are few stark reminders that you are still in India:
The traffic jam that starts from
the toll gate outside the plush International airport and stretches all the way
to Cubbon Park making your commute a nightmare. Even your BMW M series which can do nought to 100kmph
under 5 seconds, has to crawl.
The cigarette smoke blown right
onto your faces when you stand under the ‘smoking strictly banned’ sign and try
to have your cup of chai
The bikes that threaten to knock
you down when all you were doing was walking on the foot-path meant for
pedestrians only
The traffic red lights treated as
an excuse to step on the gas and accelerate even when jay walkers dart across the
roads defying death
The 10 pairs of eyes that strip
you naked even while you sit inside the Uber cool cab at every traffic signal…
Sorry to burst the Bengaluru bubble, but it is just a harsh
reminder of all that plagues our country. A gentle nudge for us to wake up and
smell the trash as if Swachh Bharat is just a stupid joke .
The silver lining however came from my daughter who summed
it up neatly when she said “ I agree,
Bengaluru is still part of India but here I see that the girls take it all in
their stride and refuse to be cowed down”
I say cheers to that or should I say Prost
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