It's my 3rd day in Bangalore. The first evening was rather good. Early morning I had a show down with dad. He doesn't want to use "my" car. That apart, and having finally coaxed him into using it, the rest of the day went smooth enough. I entered the airport after a year. I have visited it numerous times to pick and drop my bro, but never had to enter it (unlike other international airports, entry into Indian airports is prohibited, you can buy a ticket and enter for a while but access is very limited - despite all that, India remains one of the most terror prone countries).
Once I was inside, I faltered a bit. Kolkata airport is different from the Bangalore one as even the check in luggage there is scanned. I had completely forgotten that and queued up for boarding pass, all thanks to my observant eyes, I saw all the large suitcases had their locks sealed off with the airline tag. So I went back to scan my suitcase as well. Old habits die hard, so I had packed intelligently, and consulted my packing checklist, although I could ignore staff on it like passport (I purposefully left it behind, my driving license...ahem! would suffice as an ID card - it anyways doesn't serve its real purpose), Forex card, Forex cash, spare pair of formal shoes, two shirts and a trouser in cabin baggage, medicines etc. I don't really need to worry even if my suitcase gets misplaced, I can buy clothes and medicines in Bangalore, and anyways I have put up in my bro's place only, there's plenty of spare clothes in the wardrobe. I remembered the hectic days, and smiled to myself. Once security check was done, I sat leisurely in the sprawling waiting place, and chatted off with mom and dad. Then, I wanted to do something, which would otherwise seem so not like me. I wanted to show off my Mac Book Pro. I giggled in my mind, took it out, along with the dongle, and posted a message in FB. Then for the n-th time, I was unable to figure out how the drinking water basins work, and had to ask someone. I looked around, saw chicks all decked up and suddenly felt extremely stylish in my jeans and T-shirt. as it always happens whenever I am sick, I have thinned down a bit, and the tummy doesn't jut out that much. Not sure if it is an illusion, but the double chin is also less prominent. Well the fever is gone, but cold is there and digestion problem as well. Still, I ordered a multigrain sandwich and coffee in the plane. I wanted to spend money. I got down, collected my luggage, walked out of Bangalore airport and filled up my water bottle (I had suffered once big time in 2.5 hours journey in the Volvo bus because I had run out of water - I never want a repetition of that). Oh there have been cab rides earlier, (with or without prospective reimbursements), but I had decided on the Volvo bus already. The safest one (there are 3 bus routes that come near my place) - where I do not need to cross a main road. I am very scared of the Bangalore traffic. Already, familiar Kannada words were pouring in, though luckily Hindi songs were playing in the FM Rainbow channel - very old Hindi songs, as it was supposedly Rajkumar's birthday (The Hindi one, not the Kannada one, of course). And a surge of memories hit me all of a sudden. Way people had gone mad with grief when the Kannada star Rajkumar had died, and all the buses that left the bus bay of my first MNC had his smiling photo on the windscreen (so that people don't hit it in anguish). Then I remembered, with a little effort, this curious name, Noteven Givingwa. Some such stupid thing. It was in parody of our then HR Head (who, goes without saying, had the same initials) and the way she had brought in some terrible policies regarding pay hike and promotions. I strained further to remember the name of that magazine which used to publish such parodies. I laughed aloud in my mind. Can I ever forget Bangalore? It shaped me up as a person, and it killed me too. The familiar roads passed by, the jacket got zipped up, as the rain intensified. I felt a lot of love for myself, as I relived my life at this place, and the fact that I had the guts to get back. I posted once again in FB that I am nostalgic. Both the posts attracted some likes and comments. But I lost heart. FB is not my cup of tea, when I need to express myself. Like the almost ethereal pleasure I felt today as I had a simple lunch of Bisibelle Bath and Pineapple Juice. I remembered the Thursday special lunches, again at my first MNC, where the vegetarian food court served Bisibelle Bath. I had a 4-5 members' gang of bosom friends. We would buy cold drinks and chips to go with it. Thursday lunch would be really special, something we'd look forward to. How I miss those days. I could easily tag those very same friends and mention this in FB, but what difference would it make? They are all different people now. They are not idle like me, they don't need to get lost in their reveries, they have a real life to live. I probably hoped against hope that my once upon a time dear friend would at least express some wish to meet me, once she knows I am in Bangalore. But no, she didn't bother. You see, FB leads to heartbreak. My blog doesn't. I can speak my heart out here. I have nothing to hide. I don't need to change colors here.
Well, I have got back. But I don't really feel like going out. Today, I was supposed to meet Ani. I was hugely reluctant. Didn't want to travel to Malleshwaram. Public transport in Bangalore sucks big time, and I hate the autowallahs here. Ani said something curious, like I can come by auto and she'll take care of it. I didn't understand properly what she meant. Did she want to reimburse my auto fare? Could she really have said that? I don't know. I was getting ready against my wish, when she messaged on Whatsapp that she is down with viral infection. I was relieved that I don't need to travel that far. I am happy staying at home, and reading my books. I finished Half Girlfriend yesterday. Today I am reading Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets one more time. I love that particular book. It is my favorite. Why, I was telling mom, even if no story book is around, I can find this "Statistics for Management", peeping through the set of my MBA books, I'd grab it and start doing sums, way I used to in my school days. I have some Hermione-ish traits, I can't help it. I wish I had a stupid Ron to love me as well.
My friend from my previous organization (who's become this avid reader of my blog) called me on the day of Laxmi Puja to tell me that she's getting married. I had mixed feelings about it. I had come to Bangalore to meet her as well, she's one person who has stood by my side through thick and thin, all through the last year, and has sympathized without showing pity, which in itself is a very rare thing. I really wanted to appreciate that, in person. Now, because of her sudden busy schedule, she probably won't be able to make it. I also reflected on my curious sixth sense. The other night, I was thinking about how she is becoming as lifeless as me brooding over her marriage proposals not materializing. And I had this strong feeling that in no time she'd be happy, her problems will be sorted out. Well, I have seen my sixth sense work at times, but always with other people. It never works for me. I remembered that Boo had his engagement on a Laxmi Puja day 2 years back. I fasted and helped mom do the Puja even on that day. This time mom wanted me to do the Puja. I refused but didn't explain why. I feel cursed being unmarried. Laxmi Puja should be done by a married lady, seeking prosperity of her family. I don't stand a chance to do this Puja.
I did a good deed though. I made my dad very happy, by taking this one small step to visit his elder brother and his family. The brothers had fought over one inconsequential property, and got separated when I was in my teens. The property remains locked up till date, two brothers are dead, rest are distant. There was one time when we lived as a family, celebrated all the religious occasions together, oh yes, even I had my hey days, I was the most pampered and loved kid amongst them. A boat accident happened, it snatched away lives, and then this property dispute. The happy family was wrenched apart. The day I return (i.e. next Sunday), I have promised to take them all to my home. I don't know if I did this to support them, or to seek support for myself. All I can tell is that when I met my uncle after about 15 years, all I felt was sheer inspiration. This ex Indian Navy person still stands tall and healthy at 78, and what has he not seen in life. A son, who was finally born to him after much prayers and worships, after two daughters, was killed in an accident, even his dead body was never found. He used to be my favorite cousin brother as well, I remember years of believing that he was alive, and praying to God, and later giving up. His daughter suffered a divorce, and is now bringing up her daughter alone. I have written all this in http://itsraininglove.blogspot.in/2011/10/memories-feelings-and-views.html earlier as well - I really don't feel like repeating. But like I said, my uncle's strength amazed me. It was like cold breeze on a fevered head, it was like an angelic presence, telling me, that you can live, no matter what. I am glad I visited them. I am glad I am gradually doing the things I so wanted to do.
Yes, I could have never done these things had I stayed back in Bangalore. A visit once in a while is fine, but Kolkata is my place.
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