Bangin' Bangalore

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Day 2 in Bangalore:


This city is incredible. I'm not even sure if I can call it a city, really. It's dusty, hot, humid, full or rubble, rubbish, stray dogs, fresh juice stands, corn-on-the-cob sellers, internet cafes, endless Nokia/Blackberry/Levis/Nike shops and literally *thousands* of auto-rickshaws. We've only explored a few of the main roads so far, really, which makes it feel small-ish, and the haphazard nature of the roads, junctions and (I use this term loosely) 'roundabouts', which are neither particularly round nor seem to be much good at controlling the traffic, add to a feeling of chaos.

But it's organised chaos. It seems to work. The fruit-sellers have their spots, the beggers line a small section (mostly outside McDonalds) of one of the bustling high streets, the little begging children even quite happily fall asleep atop a pile of rubbish, legs sprawled out to be stepped over by the locals and the rare tourist. I got hassled last night by a brother and sister duo, who tried their hardest to convince me that they weren't scammers. It was quite challenging to avoid making eye contact and walk on saying sorry, but I know I need to be realistic about this.

On a little jaunt out to the high street to see Bangalore by night (termed the most cosmopolitan city in India, where you can find some of the 'hippest' bars...thank you Lonely Planet guide...) I was lucky enough to be invited into the grounds of a church, where a wedding party was being held, just because the groundsman saw me looking with interest. (You can see a picture in the previous blog). The old, twisted trees were decorated with long strings of green fairy lights, and swathes of purple silk adorned the entrance to a flower and music-filled hall. The sounds emanating from some speakers and inside the hall were fun and lively, and the groundsman led me to the door (and invited me in, but I was unsure of etiquette of walking into someone's "marriage" - do you pay, do you say hello?!?) where I could see the largest amount of family I'd ever seen, all dressed up in some pretty swanky mostly deep red clothes covered in sequins and gold threads. Sadly, I didn't see the bride but think she was surrounded by the large group of people at the end of the hall who were queuing up to give the groom gifts. That was a lovely surprise. The groundsman proved to bet yet another kind Indian person who wants to show you things and introduce you to other people.


I think the overwhelming thought that strikes me every so often is that this is 'the most cosmopolitan city' in India. It is Asia's Silicon Valley, providing an enormous amount of outsourced business processes and stupendous levels of technology expertise. Yet, hundreds of stray dogs roam the streets, and most of the small shops or shanty-shops made of corrugated iron are also the home of the proprietor, where he will sleep outside on the floor - I suppose in case someone wants to make a purchase you've got to step over him first, therefore waking him up. Sensible, really! It's not terrible, it's not a third world country, but it is quite remarkable to see so much growth, ingenuity and, I guess, people surviving how best they can when the sewage systems are fundamentally running less than a metre below the pavement, covered by large cracked concrete slabs whose broken sections have corrupted and fallen, allowing you to peer right down into the sludge of brightly-coloured packets, brown slime and the occasional shoe.

The other things that I would not like to forget or for them to disappear under all the rest of the things I will hopefully see over the next four months are (and forgive me for listing this lazily):

- The incessant beeping of horns - whether a motorbike, auto-rickshaw, lorry or bus, everyone is beeping at every opportunity. The most common reason is to clearly alert other vehicles, people or dogs wandering around by the roads that you are driving somewhere near them and that you may potentially be about to get in their way. Another reason appears to be to tell people to bloody well move as the lights have gone green and you're chatting out the side of your rickshaw to your mate on the roadside.

- The splatters of dark red juice - that Kim has just remembered is called Paan - that has been chewed and spat out on to the streets, staining the concrete slabs on the floor and expertly shot at the adjoining stone walls of the shops.

- A boy of approximately 8 years old (although, he was very skinny and small so I don't know if I can guess it right) with no shoes weeing into a pile of rubbish up against the shop of an international brand, as people came in and out with bags of goods - not taking any notice of him!

- Coming into this mini shopping mall (with an odd mixture of high-end trinkets and carved wooden elephant type shops and empty spaces on the third floor where people clearly sleep) to settle down in a little wooden box in an internet cafe.

- Our first foray on to MG (Mahatma Gandhi) Road, the main drag of Bangalore (and wandering past the stalls full of, again, little carved wooden toys and pretty bags) and being accosted by the third 'independent tradesman' shall I call him - think Indian Del Boy with a slightly more intense look in his eyes and a noticeable lack of a fur coat or medallion - who decided to change tack from telling Kim and I about how pretty and cheap their goods were, to going straight in with the bare facts of what he thought we might like to purchase: "Bong, madam? Chessboard?". Yes, please, I'll have one of each...

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