Pondicherry Paradise

It was boredom and a life as dull as dish water that propelled the trip. Yep, boredom of a massive kind coupled with work , business travel and the TRAFFIC of Bangalore .

Yes ! I am talking about the Pondicherry trip!!! Bored with meetings and pressurized with deadlines and deliverables, 5 of my friends & I decided to let our hair down at Tamil Nadu’s greatest asset ( ahem after Rajnikanth of course !). Though it’s a union territory, Pondicherry or Puducherry to the locals is very much a part of Tamil Naidu including the language and culture.

So, we decided on a trip to this ‘heaven on earth’ and set out in a Qualis on a Friday night. The idea was to travel in the night, cover ground and be ready for 2 days of sight seeing. What we did not account for was something as natural as sleep. Anyways, after fidgeting for the 100th time for a comfortable position, we along with the dawn finally arrived in Pondicherry.

We were booked in Auroville, and we landed at the Arubindo Ashram assuming that was the place, but after some clarifications, we realized Auroville is not the same as Aurbindo Ashram and off we went hunting for the bed and breakfast place booked . A couple of us were still struggling to open both eyes ,while some were grumpy about an almost sleepless night.

Anyways, all sleepiness & grumpiness soon disappeared when we reached Auro village- the place is so fresh and beautiful ! It’s a few kilometers away from the main city and is a world of its own. The road leading to the village is paved with thick bushes and trees, with a couple of very European bakeries and eating joints thrown in here and there. True to its word , it is a lovely small village – Auroville.

The place where we stayed was beautiful, with brick red walls and lovely pottery all around the place and amazing freshness! The rooms were clean and reasonably priced , and with a lovely green campus sourounding it , it was more that what we could ask for.

One of the places we visited in Pondicherry and one which is worth seeing is the Aurbindo Ashram. Now, I am not too inclined towards spirituality and might just not expound too much on what is it all about. All I know and what I researched on the internet on the ashram is that, it was founded by Sri Aurobindo who was one of the leaders of the early freedom movement who later turned to development of a new spiritual path called ‘internal yoga’. Not that I am a follower of yoga , but the place does has some sort of mystery surrounding it and is enveloped by silence. A whisper would be like a yoodle in that place- such is the silence prevailing there.

There are quite a few articles on display like a sofa set (which I presume was used by Sri Aurobindo) with life sized portraits of Aurbindo and ‘ The Mother ‘ ( who was Shri Aurbindo’s companion) all across the ashram there are a couple of photos of the couple with impressive names like Jawaharlal Nehru and Indira Gandhi too , with the usual fare of books and triklets. A place you might want to visit out of curiosity even if you don’t favour the spiritual aspect of it.

Then there is the Promenade, which is again a long stretch about 1.5 km along the beach which kind of resembles the Marine Drive of Mumbai. To be very honest there is nothing to see there and you may want to go there just to relax in the evening and watch the sunset. There is a huge statue of Mahatma Gandhi, which is hugely photographed, probable because there is nothing else to snap. When we went, there was some interview of a dancer being conducted by one of the star TV network channels which conjured a lot of excitement. Too bad they didn’t seem interested in a bunch of females ogling at everything in sight .

It would be unfair to this blog if I don’t mention about the streets surrounding Promenade, and that’s when I realize how Pondicherry got its punchline ” Very French. Very Pondicherry” Standing there, it is impossible it distinguish India from France. The street you are standing on could easily be one in Allevard .With its large French windows and French signposts and names. It’s almost like being transported to France minus the flight cost . And we had a ball clicking snaps in all sort of dramatic poses , after all what’s France without a little romance and drama huh ?

But it was a museum, the name of which I don’t quite remember near the Promenade that caught my fancy. I must confess, I am total sucker for museums, art galleries, forts, and palaces and stuff like that and I had a field day checking out things there. There was this huge mirror, so ancient looking and I wondered how many generations of royalty must have preened into it before it came to be admired by the hoi polloi.

There was also an ancient carriage at display with lantern stands and space that could accommodate only two people and as I gazed into it, I could almost visualize an English Memsahib being escorted back home after a bridge party or two Sahibs on their way to a place for business. It’s fascinating how these things of art and history can play with your imagination and give you a fleeting glimpse of the world that once was.

Anyways , coming back to the present , one of the favourite destination of generation next is the Paradise Beach at Auroville . It’s a private beach and is only open to the residents of Auroville. Since we were staying at Auoville, we thought we qualified for it and boy did the gang have fun. I am not really a beach person. If you ask me to choose between beaches and mountains, mountains would be a clear winner. But that was one beach where I did have lotsa fun. We snapped away to glory, and the gang had a rollicking time in the sea. I being the hydrophobic that I am, stayed put on the sand and enjoyed seeing the tiny crab like creatures, squirm back into the sand every time the waves washed them away. I did a lot of shell picking too, knowing very well that these shell would be in the trash can the moment I reach Bangalore. But what the heck, I am in Pondicherry !

But what is sad about places like the Paradise Beach is that these beautiful places are taken for granted and there is so much damage done to them that after a while they cease to be what they once were. For example ,a lovely beach like the Paradise beach is so beautiful on one side but go a little further and you will find human faeces, beer cans , plastic bags and all sort of garbage strewed all across . Even the narrow path that leads to the beach is so dirty. It saddens the heart that a place of wonder becomes a trash can for some. I do hope that there is something done about it. Once can’t afford to waste away a place like Paradise Beach.

Anyways , Now that we were in Pondicherry it was obvious that we could not go without souvenirs for our friends and much to our delight , there was a paper mill right on our way back to the village which made and sold hand made paper . And believe it or not , I have never seen so many beautiful things created out of paper. Apart from the hand made and printed sheets of paper, there were beautiful envelopes, small and big boxes to keep jewellery and what not, folders , pen holders, paper bags, and even paper jewellery. Gosh ! I don’t even remember all that was there but it was real fun checking things out.

With our souvenirs in place we were ready for another day of sight seeing during with we covered a few temples and on our way back we visited Mahaballipuram and its famous cave temples. The cutest thing there was this huge round stone which was labelled "Krishna’s butter ball" cute na …Anyways, the place is great to explore with carvings and all . We also visited Kanchipuram, where I indulged myself and bought a Kanchivaram Silk Sari, not that I am into saris but it seemed like a shame to go all the way to Kanchi and not buy a sari.

With that silk sari shopping our weekend getaway came to an end and we headed back for the hustle and bustle of the city of Bangalore, but feeling blessed for the opportunity to take a peek into a beautiful laid back land .

Tripping Back ! :)

Well, I am back after a long hiatus! Much as I hate saying this , but I did commit the cardinal mistake of sacrificing my blog at the alter of work . But thanks to all you people for your subtle and not-so- subtle reminders about updating my blog - I am back finally!

4 months since I last wrote , the world had been pretty much the same .Indian cricket continues to be a heady mix of glamour and money, Sonia Gandhi continues rebuffing Rahul Gandhi's claim to the PM post, Deepika Padukone continues to be the next IT girl , Hillary & Obama continue with their mud slinging , Sunil Mittal is still the richest man in Britan, Rakhi Saawant continues revelling in controversies, and I still haven't met Johnny Depp !

Personally too ,things have pretty much been static , of course if you discount the crazy pace of work that hijacked my idyllic existence.

But amidst all the chaos of teleconferences, meetings , buckets of coffee and never ending mails that threatened to crash my mailbox, I did find time for a quick trip to Belur -Halebedu .To the unaware Belur is located in the Hassan District and was the early capital of the Hoysala Empire ( remember reading about them in our History books ?! No ? Neither do I! Was never my History teacher's favourite ! ). The Chennakesava temple which was build by king Vishnuvardhana is the main tourist attraction. The place is amazing to say the least. I am a huge sucker for ancient and historical buildings and things and this temple was a huge delight. The dancing stone figurines are an example of artistic fineness and the attention to details is simply mind boggling.

Inside the main temple complex, there is a stone statue of Queen Mohini, who apparently was the most beautiful of all the queens of the King Vishnu. Her face , they say was exactly one seventh her body , which in olden days was a sign of a good physique. Needless to say , Mohini ji also attracted some modern day male followers both Bharti & Firangi, who just did not want to leave the place. Sigh ! Some women have all the fun !

The temple in Halebedu is also a treat to watch and we tripsters had a field day posing away to glory, check my videos to see some of the exploits. There is a small lake adjacent to the temple , where boat rides are given for a small fee that will take you past a small island where you can see some birds.

All in all t’was a great break from the hectic city life and in case I have inspired some of you to grab your rucksack and head towards Belur , here are few useful tips :

• You might want to hire a guide once there , otherwise you will find it hard to understand the story and meaning behind the statues.
• Make sure you leave early , so that you reach the first temple mid morning when the sun is not so hot
• The sun is blazing after mid morning , so sun glares and hats are recommended and ladies don't forget your sun screen lotion , you'll sure need it.
• Make sure you take the boat ride in Halebedu, its a lovely & calming end to the whole experience.

So there you go, my first post after months and I already gave you a place to add to your travel list. I am kind ..Ain't I ! :)

Christmas Reminiscences

I love Christmas ! That’s the busiest time in my otherwise placid calendar.. That’s the time you'll find me running around for choir practice, drama rehearsals, carol singing and yeah shopping for Christmas presents . ( I must let on that the last point is something that makes me deliriously happy ) . So I decided to post this bit as an ode to the season to be jolly !

Now, I have had the fortune of travelling across India , thanks to my dad’s travelling itch , So I have been in the North, in the West and in the South of India and got an opportunity to experience Christmas in all these regions. I spend my childhood in Ludhiana, Punjab and attended a Christian school, so I experienced the Christmas treatment in school . We used to have this Christmas party every year around the 22nd or 23rd where you could wear anything you wanted to school. And it was on that day, ordinary school girls with pig tails would transform into eye-catching beauties sporting the latest fashion. Such transformation is only possible at that magical age called adolescence. The school choir would belt out timeless Christmas carols and there would be a whole lot of interesting stuff on the agenda. But the thing most looked forward to, was the gift exchanging ceremony called the 'Shelly Party'. Now no one really knows how it got that name. All we knew was it was called 'Shelly Party' and no one really had the time nor the inclination to dig into the details. My wildest guess is that maybe someone called Shelly started the whole thing, or it was a corruption of the term 'sharing party' but then, who really cared ! To elaborate further, Shelly Party was a gift exchanging ceremony , wherein a couple of weeks before the Christmas party , chits were drawn with all the class student’s name and each student had to pick a chit and buy a gift for that person within a price range specified of course. I don’t quite remember what gifts I got through the years, but when I was in the 7th grade, my class teacher happened to draw my name and I got a very pretty box full of chocolate bars!

At home, a couple of weeks before Christmas, mom would get into a flurry of activitiy, preparing ‘faral’ ( for those who don’t know Marathi, 'faral' is the term for the goodies prepared at festivals) . So there were doughnuts , chakli , shankarpali , karanji, besan & rava ka ladoo, sev and of course Christmas cake . For a few years she used to make cake at home , but later hired a bakery fella to bake it for her. She would give him the ingredients and he would mix the batter and bake it for her . So you see, she was very futuristic, she used the concept of outsourcing even before it was tried out by IBM ! During that period our eating habits would change drastically, we literally lived on ‘faral’ much to the annoyance of my mother. But you can’t be crabby during Christmas, can you? !

Dad used to work for a Christian hospital, and so we used to have a whole lot of parties for each department in the hospital. And of course there was the late night carol singing for us kids. I loved those times; we used to go carol singing till 1.00 am and come back home unescorted most of the times. And even now when I sing ‘O come all ye faithful’, it brings back those sweet memories, when life was simple and cities safe !

Then there was the Christmas stocking bit ! I still don’t believe how could we fall for that Santa Claus act . For me Santa Claus was very real. . And our parents played royally on our staunch belief and left written notes advising how we should behave during the year. I remember a time when I was probably in my 2nd grade, my dad actually made a call to Santa ( beat that !) and told him that I had been a good girl that year and wanted a doll for Christmas. Gawd ! dumb or innocent !

When I was in my 8th grade , my folks moved to a small town in Maharashtra, and my school there was not a christian school, so celebrating Christmas at school was pretty much out of the question. But, since my father worked for a mission hospital, Christmas was a huge affair on the campus. There would be these games and sports conducted for the kids, and I remember me winning at musical chairs and lemon and spoon ! Heh heh .. I still blush at the thought of me running with a spoon and lemon in my mouth .. but those were innocent times . An of course there was the Nativity Play in Sunday school . And all of us girls either wanted to be Mary or an Angel. Of course , till date I never got to be Mary and I got to play the angel only twice in my life. It was either the shepherd or the support role for me ! Heh heh and once when I was a tiny little kid , I even got to play the sheep ! Match that !

By the time we moved down south , I was in junior college already and Christmas after that was never the same , as I always had exams around that time . Right from that time till my post grad , I have always had exams around Christmas time . So Christmas was generally a few hours affair where I attended church, met a couple of friends and went back to my hostel to prepare for the next day’s exam . I remember , when I was in my 3rd semester of BBA a friend from church came all the way to my hostel ( and she lived pretty far ) to deliver a dabba of steaming biryani ! It was one of the sweetest gestures I have come across.

And that’s what I believe , Christmas is all about . A time to love and share !

Merry Christmas People !

(c) copyright 2007 Neha Shinde

Of Conferences and Coffee

“It’s so boring ! When will he stop? “I whispered to Parag as I wrapped my duppata closer to myself and shivered , “ And why do they have to keep the AC so low ? Are they trying to recreate Antarctica? “

“No, silly it’s a new experiment they are trying at mass freezing ! They freeze us and then use our DNA to replicate us and use us as soldiers in the Cambodian civil war “whispered back Parag, doodling with his pen as always.

For those of you who are still trying to figure out the background in spite of the title and the thread of conversations, Parag is my colleague and we were unfortunately caught in the middle of a highly boring software testing conference paper presentation where the speaker unfortunately thought he was Kem Carner’s sibling.

With Presales as a job profile, the onus of making our company presence felt at various testing conferences falls on me. And with Parag as the branding manager, he is also unhappily roped in building the brand image externally and it is our respective jobs that brought us to this place where, in between interesting industry and testing insights we have pseudo Kem Carner’s spout testing fundas in Siberian climate.

Conferences provide an excellent respite to our normal desk jobs and are generally filled with interesting things like freebies and non interesting things like mediocre versions of James Bach and Kem Craner. But all these are only secondary to the main attraction yeah you guessed it ...The Food ... It’s an excellent way of trying out various cuisines at different places without loosening you purse strings. Of course, you need to be the 'unabashed about free grub' type to enjoy the experience. So you can go back and make a note that while the Leela Palace serves excellent Malabar fish curry, its Italian side is relatively weak and the veg stuff at Le Meridian is pretty decent. Small nuances, which help you, know what to order where, especially if the obligation of footing the bill falls upon you.

But while the food is great distraction, there is nothing like a steaming hot cup of coffee after a chilling section (I say chilling primarily in the milieu perspective, of course there have been some very excellent sessions that give you intellectual goose bumps). The knowledge of the fact that there is coffee or tea out beyond the confines of the Antarctic zone , especially when the agenda in your hand says coffee break in bold as the next item , is highly distracting and has the effect of making you squirming in your seat wishing the speaker were less garrulous .

That’s the precise reason, I end my presentations if they happen to be scheduled before a coffee break with “I know that the only T on your mind does not stand for Testing but is something with milk and sugar it, so ladies and gentlemen, I herby end my presentation. Thank You and enjoy you break.”

Makes sense..Right ?!

Copyright (c) 2007 Neha Shinde

Did you hear that ?

I keep hearing it ! .. In the bus, on the street, on the campus, in the autos, in malls, in the multiplexes, on my occasional visit to the theatre and sometimes even in the church. Now before you derive a very scary connotation of my ranting and start dialling the local priest’s number , let me clarify my point ...I am talking about these unbridled maddening mobiles ringtones that have the very annoying habit of ringing almost everywhere and anywhere.

There is nothing like a mobile ringing unremittingly to drive you wacky , especially when the owner has left his phone behind and is blissfully unaware of the noise mayhem it is creating for those in its unfortunate vicinity. I experience it so often at my workplace. I am deep in thoughts on developing a strategy that will garner an overwhelming response for my Road show’s or how can I best leverage on our existing analyst relations, when suddenly out of nowhere the place booms with ‘ I am a Barbie girl in a Barbie world ‘ and to make matters worse the racket is right behind my workstation and the owner of the blessed thing is a 5 .11 swarthy man ! geeeez ... Identity crisis anyone !

Funny as it sounds , it’s extremely bothersome to be caught at the wrong end ... and sometimes the ringtones are not all that appropriate ... I remember when we were in a meeting once , debating on why Independent Software Testing is all that a big deal with a valued client when without warning one of our Delivery Managers phone rang joyfully ‘ Give it to me baby ... uh huh uh huh ... Give it to me baby’ much to the horror of all of us present . And no, the client did not give it to us .. The business deal, of course ! But nothing beats the time when it was a lazy afternoon in office and our floor was trying to digest the heavy but unsavoury afternoon meal served at our cafeteria , when out of the blue a tough voice boomed ‘Phone utha , abbe saale phone utha , kutte phone utatha kyon nahi ! ‘ Needless to say every one of us picked up our phones to appease the livid voice , while the guilty party dashed into a conference room to escape our collective glare.

But my misadventures with this instrument is not limited to the office alone , where I must confess I have seen most mobile bloopers. There was this instance in church ( yes, you heard it right , church ) , when the pastor had just finished delivering a powerful sermon on how we must live our life for others and not be self centred and selfish , when Madonna in full throttle began to croon “ Papa don’t preach ! ‘ The disconcerting song was traced to Abbey in the last pew , who was all red in face and for the next one month was the subject of aggressive counselling by all aunties and uncles and elders and pastors and deacons in the church. We, youngsters learnt a valuable lesson that day: Change your mobile tune to ‘God is good all the time’ on Saturday night ! A rule that I still abide with :)

But all said and done. I sometimes feel what would life be without these omnipresent mobile tunes .Maybe church services would be conducted more smoothly , meetings would have less glitches, movie watchers will not have unwanted music mixed with the ones they paid for, maybe workplaces would have less noise pollution and maybe Mukesh Ambani will share his vast wealth with me ( ok ok , forget the last one), but come to think of it , life would be a little more silent than what it is now and maybe in spite of all my cribbing , I would miss that laugh a mobile blooper guarantees. So folks all I can say is ... Bebo, bebo, ye, bebo, bebo, ye, ikaw ang aking ... oops nopes that’s not Latin , just my caller tune from Black Eyed Peas.. I am getting a call ....so like I was saying enjoy while the music lasts and bear with the little nuisance it brings along with it ....After all what’s life without a song !

(c) Copyright Neha Shinde

It's Raining {uh not men , but plain H20 } Hallelujah !

The rain gods have arrived in Bangalore and how! Since the past couple of weeks Bangalore has been receiving its share of rains. At a time when rest of the country is getting ready to welcome the winter, Bangalore is busy shaking water off its umbrellas and raincoats.

Its so weird and wonderful how arrival of rains can have an effect like no other season or weather. There is nothing like the first shower of rains and people caught unaware and unprepared. It’s almost like nature having her bit of fun watching people scurrying for cover.

The rains bring a spectrum of memories to my mind, predominantly the ones in Belgaum where I did my graduation. Belgaum is a city that gets more than its share of rains and with the facilities in our college hostel, the rains were not the most looked forward to event. Incidentally, the floor of the ground level rooms had a mysterious ability to get semi-flooded and it was quite a herculean task to keep the floor dry . I was invariably allotted one of the ground level rooms and had my ingenuity tested to the hilt in the mammoth task of keeping the floor from looking like a swimming pool. And in case you are curious.... Newspapers !.. It works !!

There was also the temptation of dashing to the rooftop , which by the way was a taboo ( you see, the boys hostel was adjacent to our hostel and the warden could not risk rain soaked youths singing ‘Tip Tip Barsa Paani, Paani Mein Aag Lagaye ’ on rooftops.) But we did sometimes manage a quick dash without being obstructed and it was during one of these escapades, we spied a lovely rainbow in the rain aftermath. Breaking rules sometimes pays!

Of course the most recent 'rain memory' is that of Pune a couple of years ago. While Mumbai was getting flooded, Pune just kept receiving rains and rains and endless rains with no particular effect. I would wake up every cloudy morning hoping the rains had finally reached a point where an official holiday could be declared. But God is workaholic and any such hopes were religiously dashed. A few places in Pune did get the flood alert, but with the resourceful people of Pune things were soon bought under control. My most vivid memory is listening to an appeal for help on Radio Mirchi and sending my flat roomie with packets of rice and daal to the collection center. She returned with mixed feelings firstly, because our packet was the smallest parcel in the room and secondly, because it reflected the magnanimous nature of the Punekars in helping their fellow beings. Ah Pune .. it brings sweet memories.. But then I am digressing..

Coming back to the monsoons Like I earlier said the rains evoke myriad emotions that a summer or winter can only hope to stir ..It’s all in the dripping umbrellas, the wet dupattas, the colourful raincoats, the cold damp fingers, the clammy shoes, the Knorr soups , the hot chai and pakoras, the hot water evening baths, that towel tossed carelessly over the chair......That's what makes the rains so special ...Makes you fetch your twice mended umbrella and hum the very romantic song from 1942 : A Love Story...Rimjhim Rimjhim .....

Copyright (c) Neha Shinde 2007

The Perils of a Puneite in Bangalore

Since my arrival in Bangalore about ten months ago I have often encountered the question “So, how do you find Bangalore? How is it compared to Pune?” I find the very question intimidating, especially the comparison part. It’s almost like asking “So, how do you think our left eye is as compared to your left hand or right ear ?”. Me I like ‘em all, yes, I do have something against my tummy, which has the highly distressing habit of deeply rumbling right in the middle of a lecture and more recently office meetings, but those are matters of less importance and I think I’ll live with it.

Coming back to the all important question how is it for a Punite in Bangalore? Thinking about it, I decided to post this as an answer to all those questions in the past and to those questions which are yet to come.

Well, for starters I detest Bangalore Autos!! Yes, you heard me right I do detest them, not the machine as much as the person operating it. And I am sure they detest me in return. It’s mutual, which is a relief in one way coz this hate business is rather difficult to carry one sided. And I have my reasons; I am yet to meet an autowala who doesn’t behave like a rantipole.

I had an early taste of their malicious nature. I happened to miss my company bus on my very second day in Bangalore, and instead of waiting like any normal person would for the next bus, I foolishly ventured out to make it on my own. Suicide I tell you! Well, with the help of a kindly soul, whom I met at the local bus stop in Electronic city, I somehow made it till Silk Board, and I decided to take an auto from there. I have a firm belief that these auto people do have an uncanny sense of smelling out people who are non -Bangaloreans Anyways, I asked an autowala to take me to the desired location and he unblinkingly said “Rs 140 madam” Beggers cannot be choosers they say and I agreed, but before I could even get into his sacred auto he suddenly turned around and said “Madam udhar ja kar 30 Rs extra” Boy did I see red ! I refused not only his ride, but also gave him a sound lecture on how he was spoiling the image of a beautiful city. Not that he cared. For him all I resembled was a piece of paper with a waterline, the image of the father of the nation and a promise from the governor of RBI. Ufff!! I have had many such encounters with these machine men and now it more like who trounces whom. With so much training I could have taken up Law if not the Army!!!

Anyways, with travel taken care of, my next experience was with accommodation. Not only do I find accommodation in Bangalore expensive, but also highly cramped. During my first week, my sister and I went looking for good PG accommodation in Kormangala. Of course, finding a needle in a haystack would have been easier. We tried BTM, Kormangala, Indiranagar without much luck. Nothing could please us moderately. I still shudder at the kind of places we were shown. It’s unbelievable! There was a place where a bathroom was converted into a room!! The lady went great lengths to explain how wonderful was it to live there and even agreed to reduce the rent, but then who wants to live in a Bathroom!!! Disappointment enveloped us. Finally we came up with a solution . Mission “Find it and Rent it was brought into action “That was all what was on our mind. With that new found mission we were again ready for combat.

Thankfully, by God’s grace and admag's help , I found a place that was not only clean and hygienic but also centrally located, with a lovely balcony. So all’s well that ends well! But sometimes I still see that lady’s face as she earnestly tried to convince me that a bathroom was a room after all.

The next logical item in the sequence of things: Food. Thankfully, I love south Indian food, and so I kind of gorge myself on Idlies, Dosas, Bisse Bele Bath, Curd rice, Rasam rice and all those goodies. I am a rice eater so Bangalore is a food haven for me. Of course there are still times when I crave for Poha, Vada Pav, Missal Pav and Pav Bhaji. I haven’t yet found a place that makes decent pav bhaji and the rest of the above items are out of question. But I have found a couple of places where I get great Malyalee food and I was recently introduced to Coorg style by a friend and boy did I love that!!

Coming to the final element (if there is ever such thing) , THE LANGUAGE !!! Now, I have stayed in Belgaum for a few years , so I understand a few kannad words , but the dialect here is very different from that of Belgaum or North Karnataka. And of course there is the slight resistance to speak Hindi , by the locals which is just fine with me as my Hindi is also nothing to write home about. I have the typical Mumbaya way of talking that would make a Hindi lover blush if not have murderous thoughts. But I love the statement ”Chill Maadi “ Its a concoction of English and Kannada which I have termed “ Kanglish “ a statement enough to make you forget all about those horrid ‘autofellas ‘and bathroom woes and feel great ..So whatever the problem chill maadi !!

Which brings me to one of my favorite muse.. People,. People, I believe are same all over irrespective of the geography or culture. Bangaloreans are gentle people with a lot of pride for their culture. Sometimes , I feel they resent their city been invaded by outsiders, a dilemma faced by every expanding metro , but being the hospitable people that they are , they are quick to adjust to the changes and open their hearts and houses ( and bathrooms heh heh ) to us. Some are good and some are bad , like I said earlier the fabric is the same for all of us it’s only the color and pattern that differ.

But nothing beats the weather, which is simply amazing. Just the right temperature and the freshness is striking. It’s a lovely feeling early in the morning, on my way to the bus pick up point, as I see elderly couples taking their morning walk, or late nights as I come back from work when I see youngersters hanging out at different juice junctions and eat outs, or on Sundays when on my way to church I see a lone jogger with an ipod in one hand and water bottle in another on the ring road that connects Kormangala to Indiranagar, or the numerous ‘narayial paniwalas’ I see scattered all across the town. That’s’ when I realize why Bangalore is what it is. It’s that moment when I want to look up in the sky, feel the breeze on my face and say “namm Benguluru rocks”

Copyright (c) 2007 Neha Shinde