Peacocks, Palaces and Pavements

From the moment I stepped off the plane, it became impossible to forget that I was in Bengaluru; the city demanded my attention. The humidity that alighted on my skin and curled my hair, the sound of new languages being spoken around me - it all seemed to say, “Hey! Pay attention! You’re not at home anymore!” As if I could forget. No sense is left untouched. At all times of day, the sounds, sights, and smells of the city surround me. I fall asleep and wake up to a barrage of horns, the howling of dogs, the sound of…

Pic: Deepa Mohan Auto-drivers come in all shapes and sizes: old, young, thin, fat, toothless, handsome, smelly, bearded, grumpy, cheery, etc. Like a good box of chocolates, you never know what kind of driver you’re going to get. Sometimes you can depend on them and you feel like they are there to support you… At other times, they seem to derive joy from your frustration, they tease you when they pass by, they try to kill you with their reckless driving, and when you need them the most, they are nowhere to be found. After a few weeks of taking…

Today, I’m writing about the vitally important topic of whether Indian cinemas should have intermissions just for the sake of tradition. (Spoiler alert: I don’t think they should.) I watched my first movie, How to Train Your Dragon 2, in Bengaluru at Forum Mall about two months ago. As an American, everything has been new in India, but this cinematic experience felt familiar as I sat in a comfortable chair absorbed by the on-screen action. Then the lights turned on abruptly. The screen image flickered and froze before turning green. I thought the projector had broken. But it was only…

My memory of arriving in Bengaluru is as fresh in my mind as the sweat on my brow was as I exited my plane at the Bangalore Airport about 1 am on July 1st. The weather was warm and humid as I expected, but I was taken aback by its intensity; the atmosphere was oppressive. I’m used to the cooler climate of Seattle. In my hometown of Yakima, a medium-sized town in Eastern Washington, where I spend my summer vacations, the temperature could climb upwards of 100 degrees Fahrenheit, but it was dry instead of humid. As I know now,…

Ultimately, I have cow’s urine on my face. There is no getting away from this true fact. Worse still, I am filming an interview and short of halting filming to announce this piece of information to a group of people I have just met who largely don’t speak English, there is little I can do about the aforementioned cow’s urine. A colleague and I have travelled to northern Karnataka to interview slum dwellers on the effects of water privatisation and we are conducting the first interview. Gone are my daydreams of a panorama-esque week filled with journalistic glamour. I will…

It is 5.30 am and my neighbour has started cleaning a large amount of metal dishes very loudly. I have been awake since about 3.30 when a pack of dogs started howling on the street and this, mingled with the chipmunks who are becoming decreasingly cute by the second, is bordering on pandemonium. As the minutes roll on, more instruments join this cacophonous orchestra. The stray dogs have united with the domestic dogs to try and mimic a pride of angry lions. A couple next door seem to be consummating their relationship very loudly, or singing whilst being strangled. I…