Bangalore - Day 3

It’s monsoon season so in spite of the partial sun I experienced on my first day, the sun has yet to make another appearance.

Mayur, a colleague from the office, invites me to join him and his wife at an area restaurant for dinner. My administrative assistant instructs the cab driver to take me to dinner and then wait to take me to the hotel. I feel oddly comfortable with the plan.

The restaurant is a quick casual format and after a slightly awkward ordering process in which I had to decide my order based on a list of options without descriptions, we settle down at a table. The total bill for all three of us comes to under 500 Rupees. $10 for dinner for three seems pretty reasonable. I offer to pay but Mayur insists. I start wondering how much an analyst in India gets paid – or what that translates as far as cost of living.

I read in the morning newspaper that Bangalore is among the top 3 most affluent cities in India, after Delhi and Mumbai. This was determined by the number of affluent families so it is not surprising that Bangalore would have this designation – it is the 3^rd most populous behind Delhi and Mumbai (Bangalore’s population is around 8 million). The interesting part is that the article identified 2.5 million families as “affluent” in India with 2.3 million among the “upper-middle” class as defined by ownership of both a car and computer. Ok, sounds reasonable. Wait. In a country of 1 billion, they are defining only 1% or 8-10 million as affluent. Then, they are referring to the vast majority of that 1% as “Upper Middle” class. They seem to have the same problem with statistics that abounds in the US. How can the top 1% be “middle class?” What about the hundreds of millions of people in India that are actually in the middle? How much do they live on?

Mayur’s wife joins us and despite my efforts to limit the onslaught, I can’t help but dominate the conversation with questions about India that I had been storing up. “Is a bindi religious or cultural? Does it mean different things if it is different shades or sizes? Why do Pujabi men wear turbans? How much should I tip the waiter at the restaurant? What do the drivers do all day while waiting? What did people think of ‘Slumdog Millionaire?’ What is public opinion about Pakistan? Is Kashmir a safe area to visit?” They never knew what hit them.

If you’re wondering the answers are as follows: 1) The red dot on the forehead is cultural 2) It used to mean different things about a woman in terms of her age, marital status and relationship to the people with whom she is gathered – for instance it would be different if a woman was with her in-laws than if she was with her parents. 3) Still not clear but something to do with Punjabi Indians being Sikh and the tradition that men don’t cut their hair. 4) Not needed for the hotel but generally 10% is appropriate. 5) Not sure. Must be rather boring. 6) Excellent movie. Very realistic portrayal of Mumbai – which, much to my surprise, they resent have changed its name from Bombay. 7) They think most educated people realize there is a difference between the Pakistani and extremists in Pakistan. 8) Generally yes – depends on time. You might hear some shooting.

After returning to the hotel, I walk over to Bangalore’s famous MG road – the market area that all the rickshaw drivers were warning was closed on Sunday.

The air feels pregnant with oil and spice – at once pleasant and uncomfortable. It doesn’t mix well with DEET.

The sidewalk is constructed of concrete slats, many of which shift slightly under foot. It is unclear if this poses any danger, but I can’t help but imagine a bottomless pit or river of sewage awaiting me if I happen to fall through.

While driving around the city I’d seen women and men with what seems to be homemade brooms move like ants over the sidewalks and gutters. The constant sweeping seems to have little effect as sidewalks are still covered with dust and debris. I wonder where they put all their sweepings or if they are simply moving it around? I wonder who pays them, and I try to image how dirty the city would become if not for their efforts.

At a roundabout near MG I pass an elaborate shrine constructed of three sided tall cloth “walls” and featuring a brightly colored Ganesha.- an elephant headed deity that is male but I had always assumed was female. The temple has rows of folding chairs and a handful of people are in attendance. It occupies a large portion of what appears to be an operational gas station. The perimeter of the gas station has been decorated with wires draped in green leaves and a motorcycle sits idle at the gas pumps. None of the other pedestrians pause to give notice.

The Indian aesthetic seems to value the variety of color and the shininess of the material over everything else. Shrines, signs, toys, and packaging combine to visual overload – like living in a street carnival. Some of the materials are beautiful and applied in other settings would be fantastic. The strings of woven flowers would be costly and beautiful in the US – whereas here they adorn the front grill of a local bus. The intricate design and wild colors of a temple hut that would seem spectacular in a park barely stand out against the chaotic background. Beautiful silks and flowers are given equal billing with tinsel and plastic. Materials that we have dismissed as gaudy or “cheap” do not suffer the same bias here. The current western practice of using subtle Persian floral designs print ads and packaging for everything from coffee to cosmetics is a idea that seems completely lost on them.

Walking along MG Road I find an ice cream stand and buy a soda. There is a smoothie stand behind me advertising the shop as “Canada’s #1 Smoothie.” Really? Canada? I have a girlfriend from camp. She’s from Canada. I am sure you have never met her. Even if it is true, is that impressive? Like, having a shop in Denver that claims to be “Mississippi’s favorite breakfast cereal.” So?

I walk down a side road off MG and find myself reassured that it is a safe road because there are women walking alone. It occurs to me that by this same logic I could find myself in a sketchy area with prostitutes.

I scratch at an itch on my neck. What that a mosquito? I am suddenly aware of every inch of my body. Why does my arm itch? I didn’t notice any bugs, did I? I am pleased that I decided to take the anti-malarial pills. How neurotic would I feel if I wasn’t taking them?

I walk back to the hotel, crawl into bed and flip on the TV. Half of the channels show non-stop Indian music videos. I had assumed that the music video was a prominent feature of Bollywood productions but I find myself curious if they film anything but the music numbers. One channel is dedicated to older films – still just music videos but instead of the modern practice of showing a lead man and woman in front of groups of identically dressed supporters, the older films usually have the women dancing in an empty field. The story, however, seems to be the same. Boy likes girl. Girl sings and plays hard to get. Boy sings. Boy gets girl. The end.