Trip to Bangalore.

We made yet another trip to Bangalore, last week. It was same as dozens of such trips that we have undertaken over the years. The trip begins with the proposal, fights over the dates, getting reservations done, preparations, fights over the quantity of luggage, the journey, running around Bangalore, ‘shopping’ and fights over purchases, the return journey and a big sigh of relief. Everything went as usual.

Myself and my wife are well aware of our roles and things almost always go smooth. Even the fights. Usually they are private affairs but an occaasional one may be a public performance. Most of our family members have witnessed our fights, intervened, and have realized the futility of their well intended efforts. People like the vegetable vendor at 'Gandhi bazaar' or an auto rikshaw driver who sometimes get the privilege, try to be of help.


We were buying vegetables with the intention of bringing them to Goa. There was a very cordial exchange of views regarding the quality and quantity of vegetables to be purchased. At some point of time the decibel level of my wife’s voice and facial contortions made it look like a heated exchange and attracted a very small crowd. This being an era of reality shows where peeping into any aspect of anybody’s life is OK, people did not want to miss out on this very real reality show. It benefitted the vegetable vendor also as some of the spectators who did not want to overtly display their interest, came over to his stall as if they intended buying vegetables, made some purchases and lingered on as customers. But the good fellow was not greedy. Once his quota of business for the day was achieved, he involved himself in our cordial exchange of views and placated my wife. "ಟೆನ್ಶನ್ ಮಾಡ್ಕೋಬೇಡಿ ಅಮ್ಮಾವ್ರೇ. ಯಜಮಾನ್ರಿಗೆ ತರಕಾರಿ ತಿಳಿಯಲ್ಲ ಬಿಡಿ. ಕೆಲವರು ಹಾಗೇನೆ. ನನ್ನ ಹತ್ರ ಇರೋದೆಲ್ಲಾ ಚೆನ್ನಾಗೇ ಇದೆ. ಚೀಲದಲ್ಲಿ ಇರೋದನ್ನ ವಾಪಸ್ ಹಾಕಿಬಿಡಿ. ನಿಮಗೆ ಯಾವುದುಬೇಕೋ ತೊಗೊಳ್ಳಿ." ("Don’t get tensed madam, your husband does not know to select quality vegetables. It is Ok. Some people are like that. Anyway, all my vegetables are fresh and good. If you don’t like what he has selected please put them back and select whatever you want").


The Auto rikshaw driver, equally well meaning no doubt, was actually the cause of trouble. He started the fire and then tried to douse it.

I was wearing a pair of shorts about which my wife had expressed her reservations in very clear terms.“These half pants are Ok in Goa, where you move around in your own circles. All of them are like you. Bangalore people are decent and you need to be decently dressed.” She continued, “More over, we are visiting elderly relatives with conservative views”. I made an offhand statement that half of Bangalore is now American and nobody bothers what the other is wearing. I also pointed out that what I was wearing was a designer half pant from ‘Wills life style’. Not some Bermuda purchased on the streets.

We went to see one of my aunts and as soon as I stepped in, she said “ಇದೇನೋ, ನಿಕ್ಕರ್ ಹಾಕ್ಕೊಂಡು ಬಂದ್ಬಿಟ್ಟಿದೀಯ" ("what is this I say, you are wearing a ‘nikkar’!"- 'nikkar',short for 'knicker' or 'knickerbockers'.) My wife gave me a burning look but did not elaborate vocally as we were in front of an elderly aunt and decorum had to be maintained. Later she had forgotten that. While returning, we got into an auto rikshaw in front of my aunt’s house and after some time the auto driver asked me whether I am coming back in his auto after dropping the lady? (my wife). I was puzzled by his question and asked him what makes him think so? “ಯಾಕೂ ಇಲ್ಲ ಸಾರ್. ನೀವು ಹೀಗೆ ಚಡ್ಡಿ ಹಾಕ್ಕೊಂಡು ಬಂದಿದೀರಲ್ಲಾ ಅದಕ್ಕೆ ನೀವೆಲ್ಲೂ ಇಳೀದೇನೆ ವಾಪಸ್ ಬರ್ತೀರೇನೋ ಅಂದ್ಕೊಂಡೆ".("Nothing sir, since you are wearing a ‘chaddi’ I thought that you may not get down anywhere and return to the house after dropping the lady”.)

“I told you to dress properly while in Bangalore. At least when you are with me. Everybody is commenting on your dress. I feel ashamed. Designer shorts! my foot.” The rikshaw fellow tried to console my wife “ಹೋಗಲೀ ಬಿಡೀ ತಾಯಿ. ಯಾಕೆ ಕೋಪ ಮಾಡ್ಕೋತೀರಿ? ಯಜಮಾನ್ರಿಗೆ ತಿಳೀಲಿಲ್ಲ. ಒಬ್ಬೊಬ್ರಿಗೆ ಹಾಗಾಗುತ್ತೆ. ಇರಲಿಬಿಡಿ." ("It is alright madam. don't get angry. your husband did not know. some people are like that. leave it.")
My wife hissed in my ears “Look at my fate. I have to listen to rikshaw drivers and vegetable vendors because of you.”

Other than these episodes rest of the trip went off well. During our return journey by train, my wife slept and I weaved in and out of sleep. I was thinking about the happenings in Bangalore and the above mentioned episodes overshadowed other things. I was feeling a bit low because the opinion poll in Bangalore had clearly stated that my mental abilities need improvement. It was some time very early in the morning and the train had stopped somewhere probably for a crossing. I wanted to know where we were. I was peeping out of the window, trying unsuccessfully to read the name of the station in the semi darkness without my glasses, when I found my vision blocked. One bearded character was in front of the window directly staring into my face. He had a steaming cup of tea in his hand.

“Want some tea?”
“No thank you.”
“You know who I am?”
“No I don’t. Sorry”
“My father is Venkoba rao ganapat rao desai. Grandfather , Ganapatrao duggoji rao desai.
“I see.”
“Mother, Kamala bai, grand mother, Rukmini bai.”
“Nice to know.”
"My sister, Sudha bai. Another sister Girija bai."
“Ok”
“I am from Kolhapur. Sisters in Belgaum”
“Ok”
“Somebody hit you?” (I had stuck my head on a shelf in my cousin’s place and was sporting a 'Band Aid on my forehead.)
“No, I hit my head on a shelf this morning.”
“Sometimes people hit me. You know who I am?”
“Sorry I don’t.”
“I am Chatrapati Shivaji Mahaaraj. Remember that.”
By then the train was hooting and another gentleman came running.
“You idiot, what are you doing here? The train will leave. Come” then he addressed me,
“He is mentally imbalanced sir. Wherever the train stops he gets down and runs away. It is good that he stopped to talk to you. By the way, did he annoy you?”
“No.” I assured him. “In fact he made me feel much better”

That was truth. Though doubts had been raised about them, my mental faculties were definitely better.