Bangalore

You may be wondering, “What’s with all the bangs?” Bangkok, Bangladesh, and now Bangalore. To answer that, one must look at the original sanskrit. There one finds it has no meaning and the four-letter prefix is a coincidental spelling of land areas hundreds of miles apart. (Don’t look at me, that’s what the internet says. I thought it would mean something cool like “Land of the Merciless Parrot”. If I’d done my research first, I wouldn’t be stuck with such a stupid intro. Oh well, too late now.)

As of 2021, forty-six cities in India have populations of over a million. Number three on the list, with about twice the population of Los Angeles, is Bangalore. It has been called Bangalore for hundreds of years but there’s a nationalistic push to restore all the ham-fisted British place names to their more culturally significant Indian ones. So Bangalore has been re-christened “Bengaluru” or “town of boiled beans” (says the internet with a completely straight-face). 

It’s the capital of the southern state of Karnataka and, as one quickly discovers, Karnataka is Sanskrit for “hot-hot-owtch-hot”. So come in January. 

Zipping around on a motorcycle is definitely the way to travel here. You stay cool the entire time which is well worth the occasional near-death experience. (One has to chuckle at the funny turns life can take for its inattentive subjects – windshield bugs, your skull,…)

I had a couple of girlfriends in Delhi a few years back, Aasha and Ushaa, who recently moved to Bangalore. So I went down to visit them. 

Noel Coward must have been referring to Bangalore when he wrote that only mad dogs and Englishman go out in the noon day sun. Being neither, most of my days were spent inside with the girls in ice-cold lemonade comfort.

Both Aasha and Ushaa had become quite a bit heavier since I saw them last. As a result, I was not able to carry them around on my shoulders the way ladies like. 

Still, this did not dampen our mutual affection and I found they were old enough now to appreciate magic tricks.

I don’t really know any magic tricks but, as I discovered with my own sons, there’s a certain age where that doesn’t matter. Just saying it’s a magic trick earns their admiration. When performing magic in public, there’s always some sneering jerk ready to pounce on the slightest misstep so he can shout the secret of your clumsy sleight. As a result, real magicians need to be very practiced in misdirection. Not so with three and five-year olds. “Is that a spider on the wall?” is all that’s needed to take their eyes off your hands long enough for you to pop the coin in your mouth, pocket or sleeve  and Presto change-o!  The rupee has vanished! 

It helps to be as astonished as they are – feigning that you, too, have no idea where it could possibly have gone.

All parties quickly look around (there’s that spider again) and suddenly, you see the coin behind Aasha’s ear! Ushaa claps delightedly and checks for money behind her own ear. Aasha is also impressed. 

“Why is it so wet, David Uncle?” 

“Yeah, I noticed that, too. Maybe you didn’t dry behind your ears after you washed.”

Well, that’s about wraps it up for beautiful Bangalore!  

What do you mean gypped?  History, hot motorcycles, cute girls, magic,…what more do you want? Oh well, alright then. Here’s a picture of a shopping area. (Shopping. Shopping. Shopping. That’s all Americans think about.)