The decade hasn't been all that kind to Bangalore. Through a combination of apathetic governance, overpopulation, burgeoning traffic problems and certain inadequacies, the city seems to have become a sort of punching bag for the rest of the state and country. Outsiders reportedly don't feel as welcome as before. Even Bangalore's forgiving climate isn't what it used to be. And of course, the Royal Challengers weren't exactly the epitome of sporting prowess last season (If you think the last one was irrelevant, the most common question I get from Desis these days in Austin is 'Why are Bangalore so crap?').
Bangalore redeems itself by being a very...hmm...redeeming sort of place. The day I landed for the short vacation was the first time I became conscious of my US-returnee blood. The dust and pollution got to me, and it felt really strange because on my visit last year I never felt anything of the sort. After all the waiting, I was also taken aback to discover the volume of traffic on Wheeler road (refer previous post). I recovered quickly, for in spite all the limitations and changes, Bangalore still provides the same dependable delights. For example, a typical morning would center around kickass chutney and coffee, my dad's obsession with getting the perfect shot of the cuckoos on the tree next door, and helping my mom at her office (with a free ride to MG Road an added bonus). The afternoon would usually involve critical acquisitions around the MG/Brigade road area, such as a pair of jeans that actually fitted me, or an old battered Magnasound Cassette from one of the two shops-that-actually-sell-these-things. The evenings were generally about food and friends.
For me, two Bangalore institutions epitomise the nature of the city in the face of change like no other: Lakeview Milk Bar, which was rudely sent packing from MG's last year, has made a seamless shift to St.Mark's Road and continues the drive in service and brilliant sundaes (Preacher's note: Corner House fans,forget everything else and have the triple sundae here. Even now at Rs.60, I still rate it the best pound-for-pound sundae going around). And Premier Bookstore, which was supposed to have met with a rude ending of its own, soldiers on in the same place with the same messy but fascinating piles. As I made my discounted purchase, I asked Shanbhag about the lease problem and how long he could expect to remain there. He smiled and muttered something with a casual shrug. Whatever it was, I completely agreed. It was a stupid question.
(continued in the Madras post)
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Saturday, May 3, 2008
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.
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.
Monday, April 28, 2008
Drip off the tongue
Work dangles over my head like an axe waiting to come down, but all I can think of is food. I'm not sure how many grad students feel the same way, but deciding where my next meal will come from is becoming an increasingly integral part of the the day. This tendency puts me at odds with the company I keep, most of whom are satisfied that returning home to a meal of potato curry and rice every single day provides at least one reassuring constant in this place. Though a lot of people think I'm superficial (or just plain impractical) for not seeing things in this light, it does make my occasional food quests more challenging and interesting.
Which brings me to the common desi pastime of cribbing about the food scene here. You've heard it all before, but no reports of homesickness can be complete without mentioning how you miss your ghar-ka-khaana, how you've been forced to learn to cook(and whatever you whip up tastes infinitely better than the junk you get outside), how the trip to Madras Pavillion or Taj Palace is the high point of your month, and most importantly, the reaffirmation that Indian food is the best and everything else is as bland as hell.
My friend has this theory that the one side effect of Indian food is, if you've been eating nothing else all your life, the continued assault of spices and chilli will eventually damage your taste buds. To the extent that you'll find most overseas food (particularly Western cuisines) totally flat and tasteless and as a result be unable to appreciate the subtlety and mild flavours that make some of the food here really worth trying. Ashanka makes the point quite well, in a post about her China visit. I guess most of the college and work crowd I used to hang out with would label me a pretentious pseud for subscribing to sentiments like these. I remember most of the quizzing crowd in RV and the rest of Bangalore who used to deem eateries which were not cheap or even moderately classy as "pseud places", probably because it fell in line with the whole "simple living high thinking" aura. It could be the same attitude that desi grad students have towards eating out here. I mean, some of them would be happy living on Taco Bell throughout their study program. For my part, I'm willing to spend good money on good food once in a while, even if it's only for the sake of trying something new.
My two-bits for the cribbing crowd would be: there's lots of good food out here, if you take the trouble to look. You need to be prepared to sample and experiment, and the rewards will come. The myth about (the lack of good) vegetarian food here was debunked long ago. From American salad and sandwich bars to immigrant-run Mexican and Vietnamese places, there's something for everyone and every budget.
Note: Since I'll be leaving for Bangalore in two weeks (and fully intend to revisit all my favourite food haunts there), homesick desi readers will probably take all this patronising with a pinch of Morton table salt. A classic 'other side of the fence' case - but not for long.
Which brings me to the common desi pastime of cribbing about the food scene here. You've heard it all before, but no reports of homesickness can be complete without mentioning how you miss your ghar-ka-khaana, how you've been forced to learn to cook(and whatever you whip up tastes infinitely better than the junk you get outside), how the trip to Madras Pavillion or Taj Palace is the high point of your month, and most importantly, the reaffirmation that Indian food is the best and everything else is as bland as hell.
My friend has this theory that the one side effect of Indian food is, if you've been eating nothing else all your life, the continued assault of spices and chilli will eventually damage your taste buds. To the extent that you'll find most overseas food (particularly Western cuisines) totally flat and tasteless and as a result be unable to appreciate the subtlety and mild flavours that make some of the food here really worth trying. Ashanka makes the point quite well, in a post about her China visit. I guess most of the college and work crowd I used to hang out with would label me a pretentious pseud for subscribing to sentiments like these. I remember most of the quizzing crowd in RV and the rest of Bangalore who used to deem eateries which were not cheap or even moderately classy as "pseud places", probably because it fell in line with the whole "simple living high thinking" aura. It could be the same attitude that desi grad students have towards eating out here. I mean, some of them would be happy living on Taco Bell throughout their study program. For my part, I'm willing to spend good money on good food once in a while, even if it's only for the sake of trying something new.
My two-bits for the cribbing crowd would be: there's lots of good food out here, if you take the trouble to look. You need to be prepared to sample and experiment, and the rewards will come. The myth about (the lack of good) vegetarian food here was debunked long ago. From American salad and sandwich bars to immigrant-run Mexican and Vietnamese places, there's something for everyone and every budget.
Note: Since I'll be leaving for Bangalore in two weeks (and fully intend to revisit all my favourite food haunts there), homesick desi readers will probably take all this patronising with a pinch of Morton table salt. A classic 'other side of the fence' case - but not for long.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Battling Insomnia
The original title I had in mind for this post was "The trite and tested", because I was all set to write it in point form once again. When every other post on your blog is a list of some sort, you know that scourge called writer's block has kicked in. At one end of the blogging spectrum you have Fred Astairs and Prabhu Devas who churn out sonnets and haikus of varying quality, but varying nonetheless. At the other end we have the majority whose hypothetical two left feet are forever stuck in that blogospheric cement called listmania. So this post is really an exercise in dragging my feet away before the cement dries.
Anyway, this insomnia problem is quite debilitating. In my previous student phase, it might have actually felt pretty cool to declare to the world "OK, so I'm not a morning person after all. Everything happens by night so screw you." Insomnia's a bit like cynicism. One moment you feel all knowing and proud, mocking reality's moves with your every observation. Next thing you know, it's dragging you down at a time you wish you had kicked it long ago. So now, after my body clock has devolved to the extent of unfailingly keeping me up till 3 in the morning, I've decided I need to become an early bird overnight, dammit.
I tried a whole lot of suggested remedies. Reading, which at my mother's insistence, used to work back in high school, but no more. I tried listening to some long winding tapes of L.Subramaniam and Miles Davis but found myself concentrating too hard on the music. My roomie recommended a nestle hot chocolate drink which came with the tag "award winning", and the psychological impact of the tag was good enough for it to cure my problem for a short while. Unfortunately, I couldn't find it in the shops again and horlicks wasn't a good enough substitute. So I'm back to square one again and open to suggestions.
Anyway, this insomnia problem is quite debilitating. In my previous student phase, it might have actually felt pretty cool to declare to the world "OK, so I'm not a morning person after all. Everything happens by night so screw you." Insomnia's a bit like cynicism. One moment you feel all knowing and proud, mocking reality's moves with your every observation. Next thing you know, it's dragging you down at a time you wish you had kicked it long ago. So now, after my body clock has devolved to the extent of unfailingly keeping me up till 3 in the morning, I've decided I need to become an early bird overnight, dammit.
I tried a whole lot of suggested remedies. Reading, which at my mother's insistence, used to work back in high school, but no more. I tried listening to some long winding tapes of L.Subramaniam and Miles Davis but found myself concentrating too hard on the music. My roomie recommended a nestle hot chocolate drink which came with the tag "award winning", and the psychological impact of the tag was good enough for it to cure my problem for a short while. Unfortunately, I couldn't find it in the shops again and horlicks wasn't a good enough substitute. So I'm back to square one again and open to suggestions.
Sunday, February 24, 2008
To ponder, or not to ponder: Ten things I'll probably never understand
1. The rear spoiler on cars: I'm not a car person so I guess I won't get the point. But seriously, does aerodynamic benefit really matter in the crowded city? And 'spoiler' is just the right word, in terms of looks.
2. The stock market: At some point I'm going to have to convince myself that ignorance is neither bliss nor an excuse.
3. How the transistor works: Now here's a notable academic (anti) achievement. After finding modern physics interesting in class 12, six years of engineering have done enough for me to un-learn the baby steps.
4. The Fountainhead by Ayn Rand: I must have attempted to read this book at least ten times, and have never got beyond page 50. Objectivism be damned!
5. Why every contemporary Bollywood song has a seemingly mandatory Hinglish chorus: Samples: "My dil goes hmmmm", or "I looked at you, you looked at me
aur ho gayi mushkil ...." OK, so using English in film songs isn't a new thing, and is probably a reflection of how adaptable modern Hindi is. But isn't the fad starting to feel overabused and jaded?
6. The toothpaste tube etiquette suggestion. Squeeze tube from bottom and flatten as you go up: Here's a rule I've been following blindly from day one. Will be happy if someone can provide me the scientific or logical explanation.
7. "What is the matrix?": Eight years after, I still don't know the answer, and I still couldn't care less. If you finally figured it out at the cost of many a tedious moment, I hope your grey cells took a well deserved vacation.
8. Organised religion: The emphasis is on organised. Maybe this is what comes with a liberal Hindu upbringing, but I believe religion is a personal thing and should be left to the individual. And I'm neither an atheist nor an agnostic.
9. Death metal type vocalists: How does the genre (and all its related styles) get so popular when the lead singers seem to have drawn their primary inspiration from Cookie Monster?
10. Women calling each other "babe": Interesting one. A case of mars and venus, I guess.
2. The stock market: At some point I'm going to have to convince myself that ignorance is neither bliss nor an excuse.
3. How the transistor works: Now here's a notable academic (anti) achievement. After finding modern physics interesting in class 12, six years of engineering have done enough for me to un-learn the baby steps.
4. The Fountainhead by Ayn Rand: I must have attempted to read this book at least ten times, and have never got beyond page 50. Objectivism be damned!
5. Why every contemporary Bollywood song has a seemingly mandatory Hinglish chorus: Samples: "My dil goes hmmmm", or "I looked at you, you looked at me
aur ho gayi mushkil ...." OK, so using English in film songs isn't a new thing, and is probably a reflection of how adaptable modern Hindi is. But isn't the fad starting to feel overabused and jaded?
6. The toothpaste tube etiquette suggestion. Squeeze tube from bottom and flatten as you go up: Here's a rule I've been following blindly from day one. Will be happy if someone can provide me the scientific or logical explanation.
7. "What is the matrix?": Eight years after, I still don't know the answer, and I still couldn't care less. If you finally figured it out at the cost of many a tedious moment, I hope your grey cells took a well deserved vacation.
8. Organised religion: The emphasis is on organised. Maybe this is what comes with a liberal Hindu upbringing, but I believe religion is a personal thing and should be left to the individual. And I'm neither an atheist nor an agnostic.
9. Death metal type vocalists: How does the genre (and all its related styles) get so popular when the lead singers seem to have drawn their primary inspiration from Cookie Monster?
10. Women calling each other "babe": Interesting one. A case of mars and venus, I guess.
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Pronounced "Su-haas"
Americans sure appreciate brevity and clarity. Especially when it comes to names, and that goes double for foreign names. Exotic names simply disturb the precious equilibrium here. Unless you are French or Spanish (with a suitably seductive accent), foreign names are a turn off. The effect this has on us outsiders-looking-in is quite noticeable on campus; some laugh it off, others acquire convenient nicknames, and a few are even tempted to change their name. The far-eastern students, obviously aggrieved by the manner in which their names are murdered by the average American who takes it upon himself to pronounce them, have hit upon a callcenter-like solution; they adopt convenient 'American' aliases (Trang becomes Alex, Xingzhou becomes Robin). The yanks are spared the tongue twisters, their eardrums are spared the damage, and everyone's happy.
Indians, however, are not so compromising (unless they dream of ending up in a callcenter themselves). Long names are like prized possessions to be flaunted, an attribute that adds to individual uniqueness. While Americans prefer our names any day to the Chinese, for every Shah or Singh with which they may get away lightly, there is always a Sabharwala or a Ramalingaswamy waiting to confound them. Occasionally half-measures prevail; Padmanabhan introduces himself as Paddy, and Manimozhian provides a reassuring 'You can call me Mani'. Far from being upset about the inability of his name to be universally accepted, the average Desi gets a kick out of it. Despite the high standing that goes with all this, I'm pretty happy that my short five-letter name has posed no problem whatsoever for American tongues. Surprisingly, they find it easy to pronounce my surname too. The only ambiguity I can recall is when a Teaching Assistant spelled my name as 'Suhaas' and wondered if I was German. Well, anyway I can be happy with the fact that no awkward moments have resulted in calling out my name.
This is in complete contrast to the scene back home. In India, it's as if the simpler the name is the more difficult it becomes to pronounce; hardly anyone gets my name right the first time, and fewer still prefer to leave it as it is. 'Suhas' is apparently the perfect candidate for a mumbled corruption. Some landmark abuses of my name over the years include:
1. "Sugas": This is the Tamil pronounciation. In much the same way as 'Mahesh' becomes 'Magesh'.
2. "Subhash": As if the Tam version wasn't bad enough, this is the regular Northie version. At one point, I was called Subhash Ghai in school and that was as close as I got to being likened to anyone in the film industry. And I won't even mention the Bong version.
3. "Suhasini": A common way of mocking a young boy is to girl-ify his name. I think it has its origins in the fact that Suhasini Manirathnam used to live very close to my Grandmother's old Madras home. Another film industry connection.
4. "Seuss": Inspired by Dr.Seuss?
5. "Sauce": Apparently a lot of people feel the need to condense two syllables to one.
Well, at least one thing's changed for the better after coming here.
Indians, however, are not so compromising (unless they dream of ending up in a callcenter themselves). Long names are like prized possessions to be flaunted, an attribute that adds to individual uniqueness. While Americans prefer our names any day to the Chinese, for every Shah or Singh with which they may get away lightly, there is always a Sabharwala or a Ramalingaswamy waiting to confound them. Occasionally half-measures prevail; Padmanabhan introduces himself as Paddy, and Manimozhian provides a reassuring 'You can call me Mani'. Far from being upset about the inability of his name to be universally accepted, the average Desi gets a kick out of it. Despite the high standing that goes with all this, I'm pretty happy that my short five-letter name has posed no problem whatsoever for American tongues. Surprisingly, they find it easy to pronounce my surname too. The only ambiguity I can recall is when a Teaching Assistant spelled my name as 'Suhaas' and wondered if I was German. Well, anyway I can be happy with the fact that no awkward moments have resulted in calling out my name.
This is in complete contrast to the scene back home. In India, it's as if the simpler the name is the more difficult it becomes to pronounce; hardly anyone gets my name right the first time, and fewer still prefer to leave it as it is. 'Suhas' is apparently the perfect candidate for a mumbled corruption. Some landmark abuses of my name over the years include:
1. "Sugas": This is the Tamil pronounciation. In much the same way as 'Mahesh' becomes 'Magesh'.
2. "Subhash": As if the Tam version wasn't bad enough, this is the regular Northie version. At one point, I was called Subhash Ghai in school and that was as close as I got to being likened to anyone in the film industry. And I won't even mention the Bong version.
3. "Suhasini": A common way of mocking a young boy is to girl-ify his name. I think it has its origins in the fact that Suhasini Manirathnam used to live very close to my Grandmother's old Madras home. Another film industry connection.
4. "Seuss": Inspired by Dr.Seuss?
5. "Sauce": Apparently a lot of people feel the need to condense two syllables to one.
Well, at least one thing's changed for the better after coming here.
Saturday, January 19, 2008
No more fear and loathing in Austin, Texas
A couple of readers, presumably the only ones who visit this blog, have complained that my posts have degenerated into cynical nothingness. The apparent overload of dreary dark drivel seems to have raised questions about my state of mental health. In my defence, I maintain I have been totally jobless of late and the dross I keyed in was just for kicks, without any pretensions of wanting to prove anything to anyone. However, in a bid to retain my core audience (whoever they may be), I have resolved to give the blog a more optimistic outlook.
The last newyear resolution I made must have been back in 1990 when I promised to be a good boy or not to fight with my sister or some such crap. Eighteen years on, the time seems right for a new one. I promise to curb my pessimism and facade of bitterness, even if 2008 is already nineteen days old. Maybe I have unwittingly been enjoying it and have been in denial about the comfortable student existence I now lead. Out here, I have finally come to the realisation that I'm leading the good life in its twilight, and I should savour it while it lasts. I am now free to make my own entertainment, without any pressures apart from academic ones, and that rocks.
The first day of the new semester was a case in point. It could've been any day of the last year-and-a-half, which is a very reassuring feeling. I had a class at nine in the morning and had duly set three alarms. As if by clockwork (excuse the pun), I was woken only to turn off the noise and blissfully get back to sleep each time. I somehow leaped out at five to nine and arrived in class at my usual standard time. Once on campus, I could focus my faculties on the most important item on my daily agenda: lunch. The day spun madly but predictably on, and I was all the happier for it. Work will soon pile up, but the timepass will remain a constant. Might as well celebrate it, while it lingers on. For now, i can look forward to another sem's worth of the following:
1. Hours of guilt free sleep constrained only by regular homework. One of the reasons I would rather not work in this country is the scary thought of having to wake up at six in the morning most of the time. No such worries at the moment, though.
2. The daily indulgence of getting to answer mankind's most important question: "Where shall we have lunch?". The undisputed highpoint of my day, and I've been pretty pleased with my discoveries here, including a Brazillian restaurant.
3. Continued improvisation on my own cooking. While the results are not always as palatable as they should be, it gives me scope to enjoy the previously stated activity even more.
4. Access to a library with pretty much all the books in the world. As a result, I've become pretty promiscuous in my reading habits and I'm currently shuttling between four books at the moment. Whatever faithful lit snobs may say, variety rocks.
5. Access to a swimming pool. Great for cooling off once in a while, or relaxing in the sun on a deck chair with cooler in hand and dark glasses on to render the roving of eyes in the direction of heavenly bodies less obvious.
6. Trips around town in the local buses with (visibly) colourful characters. This is a place full of hippies, you see.
7. Putting my tapes to good use. I've recently come into possession of an old cassette player, so I don't have to rely solely on my walkman to keep my tapes in circulation.
8. Oh yeah. And coursework of course.
So, life's good. The year has got off to a fine start, following the resolution. I'm not repenting on that one.
The last newyear resolution I made must have been back in 1990 when I promised to be a good boy or not to fight with my sister or some such crap. Eighteen years on, the time seems right for a new one. I promise to curb my pessimism and facade of bitterness, even if 2008 is already nineteen days old. Maybe I have unwittingly been enjoying it and have been in denial about the comfortable student existence I now lead. Out here, I have finally come to the realisation that I'm leading the good life in its twilight, and I should savour it while it lasts. I am now free to make my own entertainment, without any pressures apart from academic ones, and that rocks.
The first day of the new semester was a case in point. It could've been any day of the last year-and-a-half, which is a very reassuring feeling. I had a class at nine in the morning and had duly set three alarms. As if by clockwork (excuse the pun), I was woken only to turn off the noise and blissfully get back to sleep each time. I somehow leaped out at five to nine and arrived in class at my usual standard time. Once on campus, I could focus my faculties on the most important item on my daily agenda: lunch. The day spun madly but predictably on, and I was all the happier for it. Work will soon pile up, but the timepass will remain a constant. Might as well celebrate it, while it lingers on. For now, i can look forward to another sem's worth of the following:
1. Hours of guilt free sleep constrained only by regular homework. One of the reasons I would rather not work in this country is the scary thought of having to wake up at six in the morning most of the time. No such worries at the moment, though.
2. The daily indulgence of getting to answer mankind's most important question: "Where shall we have lunch?". The undisputed highpoint of my day, and I've been pretty pleased with my discoveries here, including a Brazillian restaurant.
3. Continued improvisation on my own cooking. While the results are not always as palatable as they should be, it gives me scope to enjoy the previously stated activity even more.
4. Access to a library with pretty much all the books in the world. As a result, I've become pretty promiscuous in my reading habits and I'm currently shuttling between four books at the moment. Whatever faithful lit snobs may say, variety rocks.
5. Access to a swimming pool. Great for cooling off once in a while, or relaxing in the sun on a deck chair with cooler in hand and dark glasses on to render the roving of eyes in the direction of heavenly bodies less obvious.
6. Trips around town in the local buses with (visibly) colourful characters. This is a place full of hippies, you see.
7. Putting my tapes to good use. I've recently come into possession of an old cassette player, so I don't have to rely solely on my walkman to keep my tapes in circulation.
8. Oh yeah. And coursework of course.
So, life's good. The year has got off to a fine start, following the resolution. I'm not repenting on that one.
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