Malleswaram - The aura of old Bangalore

Ritesh’s post about Malleswaram on facebook made me all nostalgic. I recalled the good old days of my childhood, about namma Bengaluru, about Malleswaram. If you are not living in Bangalore from late 80s or early 90s, then you’ll probably not be able to imagine the way Bangalore has transformed from a tinsel town with more trees than its own people to a metropolis with more outsiders than its own. No offense meant; perhaps such petty distinctions don’t matter at all. In spite of such a radical change, there are some places which, even today, bequeath the Aura of the old Bangalore. Malleswaram is one such place. I have very fond memories of Malleswaram. So much so that if you tell a BMTC bus number I can tell you if it plies through this place. I’m glad to have recalled it by virtue of this blog post.

Malleswaram circle before construction of Grade Separator

Just 15-16 years ago, it was a routine for my family to visit Malleswaram on the eve of any festival. Be it Sankranti or Ugadi or Ganesha Chaturthi. We used to board the bus numbered 1, 91 and 91C (Not sure if these buses are still there) from Chamarajpet. It used to reach Malleswaram via K R Market, Corporation, Nrupatunga road and Seshadripuram. There was no Vikasa soudha then. So if I imagine today, it was like going inside Vidhana Soudha. Not even a single fly over and I’ve seen Nrupatunga road and KG road being two ways at that time! Yeah. Hard to imagine!

We used to get down in Malleswaram circle. Shopping for my mom would kick off from there itself. I always urged my mom to get down in 8^thcross bus stop because of a tonga stand and a public toilet next to Malleswaram circle bus stop whose aroma I couldn’t stand. But mom wouldn’t listen because she would miss picking up mango leaves (mavina yele) in 5^th cross.

Malleswaram is one such place where no one can go hungry. Then there were no Mantris, No Rajadhanis and no Maiyyas. But it was almost tradition for us to break off and stop at CTR for a crispy Masala Dosa, Sahyadri café for a hot cup of coffee and Janata Hotel which is world famous in Bangalore for its amazing crusty Vadas and dosas. I wish I had enough words to describe the ecstasy of eating local!

Crispy CTR Masala Dosa

After being fortified at Janata, CTR or Sahyadri Café, continuing the shopping along the side of sampige road, the best part for me were new dresses @ T D Shah (Not sure if its sill there). And then my mom would stop by Murugan Ghee stores in 10^th cross and finally the shopping would end in Malleswaram market with flowers and we would board the same bus in Margosa road and head back home, thus ending the life’s little pleasures, but in a very big way.

Even today during festival time, cordiality and sparkle fills entire stretch of sampige road; with colors, sounds, fragrances and of course we the people. Oh the bliss! Only people who’ve seen malleswaram during festivals can imagine what I’m talking about. Malleswaram is seriously old Bangalore. Though lots of changes have taken place, somehow the refusal of Malleswaram itself to modernize has to be appreciated. If at all there are some things about Bangalore that has not changed, Malleswaram definitely tops that chart.

Flowers @ Malleswaram market

Take some time off your shopping malls and meander through the vibrant Sampige road on the eve of a festival, to experience the cultural extravaganza of old Bangalore, “Namma” Bangalore. Give a day break to your McDonalds and KFCs and explore the desi tindis you get in this vicinity before you regret, or at least to tell your kids that you had gone to this place once, without which your love for Bangalore will cease to exist.

Oh wait. Without the allusions of Kadu malleswara Temple, Asha sweets, Geetanjali talkies, Iyer mess, Veena stores and my personal favourite Raghavendra stores, both Malleswaram and this post will be incomplete.

 

Daddy.. Daddy cool - A short story

It was early 1990s and Bangalore was still not on the global maps with all the IT revolution and political folly; yet the city had its own charm and warmth. There was this small family and a happy family. The father was well off in a job that paid him well, more than enough to lead a happy life. Mother was a school teacher. They were bestowed with a son and life was perfectly blissful.

The father loved his son so much that he gave all the comforts in life without saying NO to any of his demands even though it burdened him at times. He always wanted to see his son happy, no matter what; the father was the real enthusiastic “daddy cool” types that we all get to see in movies. For obvious reasons, the son’s favorite lines were “My daddy strongest”. Quite naturally, the father was a hero in his son’s eyes. 

On the contrary, father always believed that real heroes are made by the paths they choose and not by the powers they are graced with. Somewhere deep in his heart, it was bothering him very much that the path that he is taking, is not his, at all! Though it was giving him good fortunes, his heroisms were somewhere else. And he had always envisioned it. It was his dream, his passion, fervor, obsession, craze and his everything.

 One fine day, the god bestows the courage on the father and he resigns the job which has given him all the comforts. He comes out of his comfort zone to explore his dream. He invests all his nest eggs, things he saved for a rainy day to nurture his dream. It kicks off well, but for some reasons, it meets with an accident and it collapses. Fate has something else in store for him.

The father is trapped in deep shit. He has dreams worth millions, but left with no penny in his pocket. On the other side, his son is no more a kid. But the image he has about his father is deep rooted in his hearts. He expects his father to meet all his expectations in the same way he used to earlier. But the father is broke and insolvent now. He is no longer able to meet the son’s demands. 

The son is adolescent now and he is not exposed to such unpleasant censures until now. This continues for a while and son starts to retaliate. He is forced to change school. The family moves to a small house in the outskirts of the city. Father cannot afford a bicycle but son wants it. The same applies to video games, school excursions, uniforms etc.  Issues after issues arise. All these things slowly replace the HERO image that he saw in his father with that of a villain. I don’t know if it is justified to put the blame on son; but the scenario at home takes a U-turn. And the mother, just like any other Indian women; watches all this helplessly.

Father’s debts pile up in a heap. Banks chase him for nonpayment of loans and his own house is auctioned. Darkness covers the whole family. Father’s passion for movies gives him a job of writing articles and movie reviews for a local newspaper.  But his struggles moves on with him. The day when father says he cannot afford his engineering tuition fees and asks him to join a local college for Bachelors in Science, his son develops a disgusting hatred for him. So much that he didn’t even want to see his face. He could not believe once he respected his openness so much. Shouting, yelling and screaming at his father becomes everyday routine for son. But the father just folds his hands and remains silent… The son made it a habit to loathe his dad. The son’s behavior and the adversity transform the family into a melancholic disaster.

After 8 years:

Somehow life has moved on and things have slowly settled down. At the age of 66, father has retired for good and happiness is slowly burgeoning back in the family. A famous publisher has come forward to publish a book on all his articles that appeared in newspaper. The book is being launched by a famous personality, also a friend of the father. As the father’s friend launching the book talks about the life of the father, his interests, his passion and his personal life…… how he wove his way from the autonomy towards adversity and back again, how he managed to come out of it; the commuters stared curiously and it’s applaud and praise all over the hall. They give him a standing ovation. The air in the room fills with respect for the old man. On the stage, the father folds his hands and remains silent… just like before

 

The son, standing by the side of the podium has the moment of epiphany; he recalls those days of his crusade against his father. He realizes how opaque his eyes were and how dense his heart was.  He wonders why it took him so long to understand that his father was not really responsible for things that happened. Like so many others he was just a victim of circumstances. The father was just trying to be “Himself” all these days. He just couldn’t open his eyes and see it.  That moment he realizes that it is iceberg's destiny to melt in its own water.

.…and tears roll down his eyes silently!

Sometimes it takes maturity, a lot of maturity to understand certain things in life.