Author: Peter Colaco Date: 06 Mar 2008
Changing times: Bangalore is today a monstrous megalopolisYou begin to realise how time is getting on, when you celebrate occasions. ‘Ages since we met,’ one says mindlessly. But now I realise it is ages. We migrated here when father retired and settled down in 1958. He thought we should settle in Hassan or Dharwad, or at least Whitefield. But under the pressure of his wife and children he chose to settle in Bangalore.Vidhana Soudha was squeaky new, shiny bright. Mahatma Gandhi Road was still commonly known as South Parade. There was an East Parade Church (at the corner where Manipal Centre now stands) but I can never recall the road opposite. South Parade being called ‘North Parade’. It was called Cubbon Road, or Baird barracks, I think.The year 1958 was the early, post Independence period. Road, squares and circles would be Indianised to honour local heroes. But a half century later the major preoccupation of politicians continues to be changing the names of roads, installing new and ugly statues and setting the populace against one another by communal provocations.But so much has just gone in a circle. Power shortages, load shedding, water shortage, bad roads. In 1958, motorised transport was sparse. But in 20 years, traffic has increased and is badly controlled. By the 1980s we had become a rich industrial city, overpowered by the inefficient and corrupt rule of petty politicians who pride themselves on their claim to be ‘humble farmers’. Just bigger and faster, not better.The pace of change has been incredible, particularly in the world of technology, shopping, speciality restaurants, traffic (four wheeled and two wheeled, though the two legged is not so common). When I was in high school, the Beatles hit the scene. We hardly heard them, much less saw them. But if they had survived like many of their contemporaries, we would have seen them perform LIVE at the Palace Grounds, I am sure that the ticket rates would have been a full months salary at least back then in 1958!So, I wonder, am I proud of this magnificent, monstrous megalopolis we now live in. To celebrate the Golden Jubilee of our first coming, I went exploring the city I once knew. As youngsters we went picnicking to Whitefield, Malur, Hoskote puffing on slow local trains. Now they have been swallowed by Bangalore. Greater Bangalore, Greatest Bangalore — on ring roads and half built metros. Employment opportunities are enormous, ‘outsourced’ from some other impoverished foreign cities. But that’s the spin of the wheel of history. Every body wants a level playing field (though corporates are not averse to having fields which slope in their favour). But life was so much easier when there was a limitation of choice. Padmini or Ambassdor, Lambretta or Vespa. Limited license for production. So you had to book a vehicle, or anything you wanted, and wait for your turn. And when the new one came, at the controlled price, you could sell the old one second hand for more than you paid. But at least you did not get swamped by junk mail, unwanted calls and solicitations at the most inconvenient times.In so many ways we felt this was our city. Now I don’t! I just feel pressured and lost.
Changing times: Bangalore is today a monstrous megalopolisYou begin to realise how time is getting on, when you celebrate occasions. ‘Ages since we met,’ one says mindlessly. But now I realise it is ages. We migrated here when father retired and settled down in 1958. He thought we should settle in Hassan or Dharwad, or at least Whitefield. But under the pressure of his wife and children he chose to settle in Bangalore.Vidhana Soudha was squeaky new, shiny bright. Mahatma Gandhi Road was still commonly known as South Parade. There was an East Parade Church (at the corner where Manipal Centre now stands) but I can never recall the road opposite. South Parade being called ‘North Parade’. It was called Cubbon Road, or Baird barracks, I think.The year 1958 was the early, post Independence period. Road, squares and circles would be Indianised to honour local heroes. But a half century later the major preoccupation of politicians continues to be changing the names of roads, installing new and ugly statues and setting the populace against one another by communal provocations.But so much has just gone in a circle. Power shortages, load shedding, water shortage, bad roads. In 1958, motorised transport was sparse. But in 20 years, traffic has increased and is badly controlled. By the 1980s we had become a rich industrial city, overpowered by the inefficient and corrupt rule of petty politicians who pride themselves on their claim to be ‘humble farmers’. Just bigger and faster, not better.The pace of change has been incredible, particularly in the world of technology, shopping, speciality restaurants, traffic (four wheeled and two wheeled, though the two legged is not so common). When I was in high school, the Beatles hit the scene. We hardly heard them, much less saw them. But if they had survived like many of their contemporaries, we would have seen them perform LIVE at the Palace Grounds, I am sure that the ticket rates would have been a full months salary at least back then in 1958!So, I wonder, am I proud of this magnificent, monstrous megalopolis we now live in. To celebrate the Golden Jubilee of our first coming, I went exploring the city I once knew. As youngsters we went picnicking to Whitefield, Malur, Hoskote puffing on slow local trains. Now they have been swallowed by Bangalore. Greater Bangalore, Greatest Bangalore — on ring roads and half built metros. Employment opportunities are enormous, ‘outsourced’ from some other impoverished foreign cities. But that’s the spin of the wheel of history. Every body wants a level playing field (though corporates are not averse to having fields which slope in their favour). But life was so much easier when there was a limitation of choice. Padmini or Ambassdor, Lambretta or Vespa. Limited license for production. So you had to book a vehicle, or anything you wanted, and wait for your turn. And when the new one came, at the controlled price, you could sell the old one second hand for more than you paid. But at least you did not get swamped by junk mail, unwanted calls and solicitations at the most inconvenient times.In so many ways we felt this was our city. Now I don’t! I just feel pressured and lost.
