Through a Tinted Lens

I have a car now. Yes, it's true. I have taken to seeing the city on many occasions through the frustrated eyes and the foul mouth (as my occasional co-passengers will testify) of a Bangalore driver. I can roll the windows down to save fuel and hear the hustle and bustle of this mad city; and I can just as easily shut it all out with one press of a button. I can also feign that I'm running late for work and take the car instead of my usual walk, cutting my travel time down from twenty five minutes to five. Groovy.

But wait. What's happened? My senses are completely absorbed in the mayhem that is Indian roads. I find myself unable to capture the snapshots of life I so easily catch on my daily route to work. 

Watch out for that cow on the left 

Watch out for that lady crossing the road 

Watch out for that bike about to ride off with your rearview mirror 

WATCH OUT!

Last week when I decided to take that walk, I realised it's been over a month since I had chosen to be a pedestrian. The bus stop had transformed from an over-crowded corner with a few tea stalls to a spanking new covered bus stand. I'll give it a month before the tea stalls reappear. Yesterday, there was already a man selling chai from his bicycle. 

And then there is the dhobi on one of the quiet, side streets with his pile of fancy clothes from the fancy apartments that I walk past. I often see him firing up his old-school iron with hot charcoal, and I can smell that familiar smokey aroma.

Also, I pass the construction workers working on the many new apartments that are spilling on to the sidewalks of Indira nagar. My heart aches as I watch a little snotty-nosed girl cry as her mother carries a pile of sand on her head. Her mother probably has nowhere to keep her. And I am instantly depressed.

My car helps me stay away from many things. I am wrapped in my Indigo FM (today's topic of discussion: how bad are women drivers, really?) and my occasional blow of air from the air conditioning (summer is approaching, you see). I am instantly privileged. And I am instantly shielded. 

I really need to stop cursing one of these days...

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I'm mostly frustrated that I haven't had much to say recently, but Anu Kumar helps me today..

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City Conversations

Anu Kumar

I

Crowded coffee shops

The chaos of other conversations

I found you in places like these

Anonymous hideaway worlds

With rushed waiters, and the

Stained menu we knew by heart

Where every overheard voice

Told us life was interesting

Elsewhere

Your murmur low in my ears and I

Lost the words you said.

Crowded coffee shops still crop up

On every clogged street

In every new city I visit

I hear you now, your low murmur

Caught in moments of sudden silence.

Every city has these.

II

Hello city

And you say, You’re talking to cities now.

Only the one I miss

If I can’t walk on its streets no more

Look out of its windows, measure its rain

While a hello could go anywhere.

You sit coffee in hand, I almost tell you…

A city needs words, never for itself

You can’t miss a city like you do a friend

When words do not matter

And there’s your unchanging smile.

Then you ask, are you all right.

And our lives trapped by the very words

That give it meaning.

III

Losing a City

To a friend visiting a favourite city:

When you walk down roads I once did

Take some steps for me

Stamp your feet on asphalt

Let my footprints remain

Touch the walls a second more

From gaps in tall buildings

Hold the sky; count the stars

Till you can’t any more

The city will perhaps remember

Your way could work better than mine.

Let me think I’m only missing this city

That I haven’t lost it forever.

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