It's funny, the things solitude, coupled with a traffic jam can do to your head. Just take the hour long auto ride from my hostel to my grandma's place in J.P Nagar for instance. Having just finished my Web Programming lab external in a disastrous fashion, I was rather melancholy about my future,or the lack of it. Morbid thoughts notwithstanding, I decided the best way to clear my head would be to pay a visit to ajji( my maternal grandmother). The very thought of it made me cringe, for, in spite of being in the same city, and in spite of her repeated admonishing, it'd been months since I'd last gone to see her. I felt even more wretched, as hot, molten guilt engulfed my insides.I felt selfish and small.About 2 feet tall.
Anyway, I called her up and told her that I was starting for home.She was overjoyed, and inquired how I had fared in the exam.She had prayed all day, she said. I helped myself to a second serving of guilt and lied that I'd done well. "See you in sometime", I said and cut the call.Okay,so I hadn't exactly been the ideal granddaughter. But I solemnly resolved to make amends.
Now the thing with Bangalore(I am partial to Bangalore, somehow Bengaluru never went down too well with me), is that BMTC buses can be a nightmare. The jostling,the pushing and shoving is enough to drive anyone up the wall, and if you're a desolate soul, looking for some peace or a pick-me-up, well God save you! Having had enough of the quotidian bus rides to and from college,I decided to take an auto(The fact that auto drivers rip you off is a completely different story, but when you're sad, you don't want common sense to get the better of you.)
So I plugged in my pod and got into an auto.The driver gave a sly smile as I said J.P Nagar,as it was a long way off, and that(along with my bad road sense), would give him umpteen opportunities to take me in circles and swindle me(or so he thought). I settled in for a long, bumpy ride, with the driver taking shortcuts(or so he claimed) through unfamiliar roads and shady bylanes.At seven in the evening, the city is buzzing with traffic.People returning from work,people on their way to work,people heading out to party,people heading out ....nowhere.There's chaos and urgency, as everyone tries to overtake everyone else, hurling abuses when someone cuts them off. My own auto guy knew the choicest kannada swear words, as he swore loudly at a Lancer that zipped past us. "These ***** ***** rich brats are good for nothing *****", he cried. I would have normally been aghast at such blatant use of profanity, but now I found it rather amusing. Funny, how little it takes for someone to flip their lid.I was lost in the intricacies of the human mind, as he deftly maneuvered the auto through the deluge of automobiles, invariably stopping every five minutes at a signal.That's exactly why I hate driving in Bangalore.You wait at signals more than you actually drive, and not to mention,inhale dollops of vehicle emission.
The city, however, looks beautiful at this time if you ask me. In spite of the the mind numbing traffic, when you actually descend a flyover, the cavalcade of red and yellow lights, streaming in opposite directions is surreal. There is so much to take in, just by keeping your eyes and ears open.The little, colorful shops, the hawkers selling their wares,the buffaloes that you narrowly avoid hitting, the subtle smell of basil mixed with camphor that hangs in the air, as you pass a temple.The auto stopped yet again,there was long jam. An old man, bent double with age, wearing tattered saffron robes came to me, begging for alms. No sooner had I taken out some loose change, than a bunch of street children flocked towards the auto with eager eyes. They were hardly five or six years old, I noticed. Begging at an age when they should be at school,thronging the streets at an hour when they should be getting tucked into a warm bed by their mother. I wondered if they even had a mother.........
The driver shooed them away.I looked around and saw a teenage couple in the auto next to mine,necking away to glory,oblivious to the world around them.They were inviting harsh glances from the middle aged crowd around us,patronizing looks,that said "These young kids....." and those mingled with disgust that cried "Get a room!!". It also evoked a rather offensive monologue by my erudite auto driver. A Lambadi woman went around forcing people to buy plastic hair bands.The street children were back.
The signal turned green,and there was a buzz of vehicles coming to life after their brief slumber.The auto picked up speed,as I realized how cruel the world is.The lord giveth, and the lord taketh away.The auto screeched to a halt outside my grandma's place, and I was brought back from my reverie.I payed the driver and ran in and hugged ajji. There are more important things to worry about than a silly exam.
