Where the streets have no traffic

It'd be easy to say that I'm headed all the way to Bangalore for a paltry two-week vacation purely for a small round of hometown indulgences - eating/drinking, loafing, visiting old bookstores and cassette shops - in addition to visiting family. The real reason I'm going is to relive the experience of crossing the main road outside my apartment.

I define 'home' as a place where you can cross the street without ever having to look left or right. You step outside, without so much as a quick glance at the incoming traffic, and next thing you know you're transported to the other side as if the traffic never existed. You might as well be blind (for those few seconds, anyway). It's this feeling of invincibility I get every time I hop over to Thom's Bakery and stores on Wheeler Road, for a round of provisions or a quick snack and it's the homecomer's ultimate high. The one thing here that makes me conscious I'm an outsider is the fact that not only do I have to remember "left-then-right" all over again while crossing, the speed of the converging traffic is much less predictable too.

Of course, I'm alive to the possibility that the traffic menace from the rest of the city may have spilled onto virginal Wheeler Road, as Change usually conspires to crush my happiness. That, however, doesn't mean my expectations are dampened, and I look forward to finding out what else might have changed and whether I can deal with it. Just before my last visit, at home they actually considered keeping mineral water and toilet paper ready for me. I'm happy to say that TP is not yet a necessity, but a reassurance that my stomach's immunity system hasn't been spoilt by another year of American water would be most welcome.