A couple of years after I moved to Mumbai, a Bangalore friend of mine asked me if I missed living in Bangalore. I told him I did. He waited for me to add something to that response. After a while, he asked me whether I would consider moving back to Bangalore. I told him I could not.
He assumed that some necessity compelled me to stay on in Mumbai and I would much rather move back to Bangalore. This time I substantiated by adding that I cannot move back to Bangalore because the city that I miss no longer exists. What do I come back to? Not the old city. A new one then? I am not so sure if there is a new city in place yet.
The Bengaluru of today does not exist just as the Bangalore of the recent past has died a natural death and therefore exists only in memory. There is no point in mourning the death of a way of life gone with the fragrance of mallige hoova, just as there is no need for haste in announcing the arrival of a new city with a spanking new metro and a Singapore skyline. I doubt we will ever get there. It is the classic carrot dangling in front of the old Bangalorean.
So what do we have today? We have the rubble of destruction and the iron and concrete that we hope to build with. Over the decades we have given the city it’s brand identities – Pensioners’ Paradise, Garden City, Pub City, Tech City and now Rubble City soon converting to Builders’ Paradise. It has been the politician’s paradise for many decades now with all the quarry work, construction, civil projects, airport relocations – all this spells rupees in suitcases.
That is one kind of rubble. The other kind of rubble is a little harder to clear. The rubble left from a complete annihilation of Bangalore culture. The smells of freshly brewed coffee, the heady fragrance of jasmine, the sight of avarekai shells strewn outside peoples homes almost rangoli like, the bougainvillea, wood roses, post colonial buildings, home visits on Makar Sankranthi and the exchange of bevu, bella, kabbu on Ugadi, plum cakes on Christmas, are all lost. It’s all gone, take my word for it. If you don’t believe me, walk into a spanking new corporate office and ask anyone if they know of any Bangalore festival apart from Christmas. So how is that going to get replaced and with what?
Change is the only constant in life and we must learn to accept it. We have no control over change and it is foolish to expect things to be the way they are. But we do have a choice over what we wish to bring in with the winds of development. We need to make those choices now, while the city is in the trial room. Lest the city is saddled with the most hideous of outfits that would cost us plenty.
Described as ‘one of India’s best and most serious contemporary playwrights writing in English’ by Alexander Viets in the International Herald Tribune, Mahesh Dattani is the first playwright in English to be awarded the Sahitya Akademi award. He is also an actor, film maker, theatre director who needs no introduction.
totally resonate! true and tragic too! thats considering i am not a banglorean but rue how the city seems now than what it seemed even five years ago.
The post is a mirror reflection of how I feel. After 8 years, it’s as though I can’t recognize where I am. I mourn the loss of bangalore’s culture of ‘simplicity’ the most. In its place is a gaudy, obscene, showy culture of fast money and malls.
How true this article is. i am nostalgic about B’lore as i have seen it change . the exhibition grounds in the city have almost disappeared as most have been accquired for building skyscrapers or other develepoments or given way to malls- where the same merchandise is sold . I truely miss the giant wheels, big papads and other wares sold.