Forgot to clear the alarm clock, I woke up at an ungodly hour. So I fired up mapping site, memorized the route, and went for a jog. Bangalore changed since I visited late 2005. The city is now called Bangaluru. There is a new airport. M.G. Road (Mahatma Gandhi Road) is under construction for Namma Metro, a rail-based system. Oberoi hotel walls separated the city into two worlds: meticulous on one side and a bit ruinous outside. Bangalore has many walled islands of niceties. The trick is to hop from one to the other without stopping.
But I was in a defiant mood. Around lunch, I went for a walk. Srinath advised me to explore Cubbon Park and I was interested in Ulsoor Lake. Armed with a simple hotel map, I strolled out of the gate, into the other universe.
Immediately, someone insisted that I should step into his auto-rickshaw for a city tour. He wouldn’t take no for an answer and stalked me for about 100 meters before giving up. M.G. Road is a busy street. I have 1000 Rupees (about US$20) in the pocket and am in the mood for adventures, on foot.
Not again! A young man insisted that 10 Rupee for an hour is a great deal that I cannot refuse. I shook him off into a narrow, yet busy street. Quickly, I found myself lost. Hmm…
I bought a fresh Coconut for 15 Rupees. Drinking the juice, I noticed those giant Gulmohar trees. They connect mid-air to form a huge green canopy. Those trees gave me endless hours of entertainment when I was a kid in mid-Taiwan. The street turns narrower and I found myself in a market: furniture, clothes, food vendors, etc. I noticed that every vendor has a portable electric generator — so economically inefficient and bad for the society.
India projects to have about 20% power deficit this year (the country can only generate only power for 80% of the demand). Their admittance into NSG (Nuclear Suppliers’ Group), after 30 years of waiting, now cleared the way for them to build nuclear power plants. The government promptly order about a dozen. That’s why Congress will no doubt approve India’s membership soon.
I exit Commercial Street and took the bombarding head-on. Every motorcycles, auto-rickshaws, or cars honks, beeps, or rings constantly. It seems to be a kind of language among those moving vehicles. Locals are completely oblivious; they are deafening to me. So I escaped into a even narrower street, also full of vendors. What, a small mountain of Guavas? Hmm, I am a bit hungry. He sold me 3 for 20 Rupees and let me take a picture.
By this time, the sweats are dripping down my pants and I started to long for the air-conditioned room. I cut to M.G. Road and back to the alternative universe inside the hotel walls in no time. Enjoying the Guava in the room, I thought of my life in China. Was I “nicety island hopping” during those 3 years?
That’s when I realized that I did not see Cubbon Park or Ulsoor Lake.
