A Madrasman In Bangalore

I’ve been visiting Bangalore rather frequently recently, and I have come up with some observations as to how a Madrasman reacts when in Bangalore. This is from the viewpoint of a young lad in the prime of his youth, who has to spend one day in Bangalore.

The first species he is likely to encounter, when he reaches at an ungodly hour (assuming he takes a train) is the Auto Driver. A Madrasman meeting an auto driver is like a mongoose meeting a snake. In Chennai, he would probably walk away without even casting a glance or engage in a fierce battle over the fare. Young men do not take autos in Chennai. Only girls from North India and old women do. In Bangalore, he sees the auto driver fiddle with a gadget that is unfamiliar to him. It is the fare-meter. He treats it with suspicion. At the end of the journey, if he has to part with Rs.50, he is astounded. The same journey would have cost him Rs.120 in Chennai. Meanwhile, the auto-driver who has set his meter to run 1.5 times faster, is rubbing his hands with glee. Win-Win.

The next occasion when the Madrasman is surprised is during breakfast. He orders a Masala dosa, and expects what he gets back in Chennai. When his order arrives, he gets a limp Dosa with some passable stuffing and some vile tasting Sambar. He thinks “How can somebody mess up a Masala Dosa?”.

The Madrasman encounters another species in Bangalore. Pretty young girls. They are a rarity in Chennai, only to be found near Thiruvanmayur RTO where the North Indian girls reside, and in IT Company offices where said North Indian girls work. Bangalore is full of them. And not many of them seem to be wearing India’s National uniform – the Salwar Kameez. Unfortunately for him, they are all accompanied by towering muscle-bound thugs, and he is restricted to doing what he does at Thiruvanmayur RTO, namely ogle.

The Madrasman who is habituated to buying beer from a dingy little stall with a steel grille which would feel more at home at the Puzhal Central Prison is astonished to see Liquor being sold in supermarkets such as Spencers Daily. He is unable to get over the fact that people in Bangalore walk out with booze in plastic bags without having to go through the hassle of finding newspaper to wrap the bottle, or of hiding it under their shirts. He is also surprised to find that he can order a drink at any restaurant he enters, with the possible exception of Udupi hotels.

The Madrasman who is accustomed to the swanky buses run by the MTC at dirt cheap prices, is appalled when he has to pay Rs.10 to travel a couple of kilometers on a rickety bus with dirty windows which looks more likely to transmit rabies than a dog foaming at the mouth. The Madrasman considers the Bangalore bus driver the equivalent of the Chennai Auto driver. But he does need to get back home. So he goes along for the ride, thinking he would have felt a lot better taking an auto.

While the Madrasman has enjoyed most of his trip at Bangalore, he absolutely despises the place called Majestic. Unfortunately, Majestic has the Kempegowda Bus Terminus and Bangalore City Junction railway station and is his ticket back to Chennai. He walks through Majestic with his lips curled in distaste. CMBT in Chennai is no better off, but in the mind of the Madrasman, Majestic will always be the vile place you should walk through as quickly as possible with the expression of one having to change a baby’s soiled nappies.

Madrasman catches his bus/train out of Bangalore and safely arrives in Chennai. Home sweet home.

Cheers!
Note: Purists might point out that the best Masala Dosas are made in Malleswaram. Unfortunately, I haven’t been there and all the Masala Dosas I have had in Bangalore have left a bad taste in the mouth. So sucks to you! Also, afore-mentioned purists might point out that Airways are another means of entry/egress into/out of Bangalore and I have failed to mention how wonderfully awesome the Air conditioned buses that ply to the Airport are. But the Bangalore airport is actually in Mysore. So it doesn’t count.

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