Sahib,Sindh,Sultan and the city of boiled beans

Growing up in the Madras of the 60s where Prohibition was fairly strictly enforced, Bangalore and Pondicherry were the nearby wet havens.  Though I never got to drink alcohol till I was eighteen or so, Bangalore held out the fantasy of licentiousness that was fascinating to the teenager.  We would hear stories of grown ups doing weekend trips to Bangalore and indulging in things supposedly wicked.  In those days it was a wannabe city.

I first got to visit Bangalore in 1962, chaperoned by my sister-in-law.  That first visit was fairly non consequential.  Bangalore did strike me a somewhat sleepy city, where even the milkman came around 10am. 

My first ‘real visit’ to the city of boiled beans (an apocryphal, though popular, anecdote recounts that the 12th century Hoysala king Veera Ballala II, while on a hunting expedition, lost his way in the forest. Tired and hungry, he came across a poor old woman who served him boiled beans. The grateful king named the place "benda-kaal-uru" ,literally, "town of boiled beans", which eventually evolved into "Bengalūru")  was in 1971 after I started working.  I was deputed on an assignment for two weeks and spent every evening in one of three bars, Napolis, Three Aces and another one whose name I forget.  I watched Gwendolina dance the dance of the seven veils seven out of the fifteen nights and on the other nights some similar acitivity.  That visit enabled me to experience the fantasy I had been brought up with as a school boy…

Subsequent to that visit I have visited Bengaluru many times.  At one stage I even planned to live in that city if I were to return to India, and, bought an apartment.  So, when friends who now live there invited me to come over, I jumped at the opportunity and booked my tickets on the Shatabdi express which does the journey from Chennai in five hours.  I am told that given the traffic, the distance from the new airport, and check in times, the air journey of roughly 300 kilometres from Chennai to Bengaluru takes, in all, the same time, at several multiples of the train fare.

I was quite excited taking the Shatabdi (‘Shatabdi’ means centenary) super fast express train.  These trains, running relatively short distances between Indian cities, were started in 1988 to commemorate the birth centenary of India’s first prime minister, Jawaharlal Nehru.  Given the challenges running of a railway network in a country like India, I would not compare them to other super fast trains, like, for example, French TGV.  The Shatabdi is comfortable and clean by standards of a railway system that struggles with waste disposal.  They serve tasty food, which, I guess sits more comfortable in the low immunity gastric systems of those who have lived outside of India for many years. 

 

India’s railway stations are historical monuments in their own right.  Chennai Central which was built in 1873 hasn’t changed much since I last travelled from there, some thirty years ago. 

It has become much, much more crowded.  The other thing that struck me was the relatively less number of porters in their hall mark red livery.  And one look around, I realized why.  Most travelers these days bring roll on luggage…they do not need someone to carry it in to the train and off the train. 

In days gone by, porters also performed another important role…finding you a seat if you had made your travel plans very close to the date of departure and could not get a reserved seat or berth.  You would come a little early to the station, find a porter who would then jump into the rake as it rolled into the platform and put a towel on an unoccupied seat as a mark of its being taken.  The increase in the number of trains and the fantastically efficient on line booking site of the Indian Railways has obviated this need.  So, to cut a long story short, very few porters at the railway station.

The other thing that struck me as I went into Chennai station was the comfort with which Hindi is spoken in the city. In the '60s you could start a riot speaking the language. Today I find auto rickshaw drivers comfortably bargaining in Hindi...a tribute to the changing composition of the city's workforce.

Pulling into Bangalore city station around 11am in the morning, I got the distinct feeling that the milkman still comes around 10am.  There is a laid back nature to the city that belies its role as the Silicon Valley of India’s IT industry.
The two days that I spent in Bangalore were fantastic … meeting with friends and relatives who showered me with their love and affection. 

I got to experience the famous traffic snarls that Bangalore is now famous for, and one incident stands out in my mind.  Driving in the ten lanes of traffic on a road built for three lanes, the car I was travelling in was brushed by a car trying to overtake it from the wrong side.  The traffic cop standing close by, did not want to hold up the traffic and just waved our driver to move on.  However, the woman who was driving the other car which had tried to overtake us on the wrong side and had also got damaged brushing our car, was not going to give up.  For the next twenty minutes I watched her follow our car, constantly honking her horn and showering the vilest abuse on our driver, who maintained his calm, just politely pointing out that she was the party at fault.  At one stage she hollered that she was a lawyer and knew exactly who was at fault…followed by choice abuse describing various aspects of male and female genitalia.  Accustomed as I am, over the last thirty years to such disputes being settled more politely by exchange of insurance information, it took me some getting used to.  More importantly, it convinced me that if proof were ever needed, that this was the message not to take to the wheel myself, in India. 

The other experience that stands out in my mind, for totally different reasons, was lunch at Sahib, Sindh, Sultan, one of Bangalore trendy restaurants at the new Forum Mall in Koramangala.  The name takes its inspiration from the names of the steam engines that pulled the rake of the first train that ran from Bombay to Thane in 1853.  The restaurant is stylishly furnished on the lines of a railway carriage and the food is excellent and interestingly named.  Thoroughly enjoyed the experience.

 

I had a little time to spare when I landed up for my lunch appointment and did a bit of mall crawling.  Very much like a North American mall.  However, there is a wider choice of food varieties.  In addition to North American staples like Subway you also have Indian food choices which makes it more interesting...

And here is the Golden Arches menu

 

 

Driving around in Bangalore, I saw this advertisement on the back of an autorickshaw

 

 

Looks like Canada is still a popular destination for immigration, notwithstanding the best efforts of successive Canadian governments.

 

Getting an autorickshaw to take you home after a train journey has been a problem ever since I first started travelling, more than forty years ago.  The pre paid auto rickshaw stand at Central station has made that much easier and now one gets a pre determined fare

 

 

And when I got off the auto, I gave the auto rickshaw driver the specified fare with an added tip.  He refused to take the money from my hands.  I thought he was telling me that the tip wasn't enough.  After a few seconds, he touched my left hand in which I was holding the money and said, 'Give with right hand, not left...'  (the left hand is used only for 'dirty' things and it is considered inauspicious to do anything with your left hand, particularly money matters) If I gave the impression earlier that things have changed, let me say, some things never change.