Urban Solace

As the last coach of the Bangalore bound Chennai Mail dragged out of platform two; I took a deep breath, taking in as much of the Chennai air as I could, the city I was born in and the only home I knew. 

Despite its many stereotypes admonishing ones traveling to the city-about its climate, its reputation for being conservative and boring, I clung on to the Chennai smells, its burning heat and distaste for anything non- Tamil quite vehemently. I searched for every semblance of Tamil in the new city that my marriage was growing in. The Tamil speaking auto driver, made me smile, the banter with the local Tamil shop fellow made my day, cheering for Chennai Super kings amidst a sea of vociferous reds, and hooting for Tamil flicks were my moments of pride. I clutched on to the city that gave me my happiest times. The sad memories conveniently flitted out of the window of my mind at least momentarily. Nostalgia is such a disease. When it grows, it grows on everything, sucking the vitality out of one like a leech, much to the annoyance of the very patient husband. Settling into a new city, especially after living in the same one for 27 years, was not as romantic and dreamy as it had seemed. The roads, people, weather, language, house and work, too many things were changing at the same time.

But as I grew older, my marriage wiser, the city also started spreading its tentacles on me, albeit silently. What is the identity of Bangalore? I wondered. Mumbai is the city that never sleeps. Calcutta has its intelligentsia. Chennai is conservative. Bangalore? It tries to be as nonchalant as Mumbai. It is definitely isn’t as ethnic as Chennai, yet it holds on to its Tipu Sultan and boasts of its Kanada heritage .It certainly doesn’t have the cinema or infrastructure that Hyderabad boasts off. Bangalore is the typical ‘jack-of-all-trades and the king of none.’ But maybe being the jack is the best thing. This salad bowl of a city has everything to offer to everyone. It loves cricket, cinema and shopping; has some of the oldest architecture, the ever-brewing liquor industry, a bubbling fashion industry and even a vibrant queer culture.  Known as the start up capital of the nation, Bangalore gives space for every little idea however obnoxious it may sound.

From Belly dancing to kathak from making cupcakes to masquerading crap from your house as art, everyone has a niche, and everything sells. Some of the most ingenious ideas have taken root in Bangalore, the latest being an ‘After party clean up service’ that targets the city’s youth who are too busy partying in homes (given the 11 pm curfew) and too hung over to clean up the next day. There are people to pick up your mess after you without nagging and with a smiling face! This must be heaven!

After ‘Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara’, became a hit; Bangalore launched its very own Tomatina Festival. (Thanks to some levelheaded souls, the idea was shot down later). The city has its own Oktoberfest; Holi is celebrated with the same fervor as Shankaranthi and, the birthplace of Carnatic music is also every rock band’s muse.  Though the identity crisis looms large, it’s a large hearted and open-minded place that is very welcoming and accommodating. Speak to the shopkeeper in your native tongue and he will happily haggle with you in it.

From the queer to the quiet, from the orthodox to the out of the box, this city has a place for everyone, from every state.

Interestingly it’s not just the exploding human population that the city caters to. Bangalore is a pet’s paradise. Nothing bears greater testimony to this than a pet shop aptly named, ‘Pampered Pets’. There is also a store, called ‘Paws’ sprawled across 2 floors that houses everything for your little halves, even a 4 post bed!  Some of the plushest restaurants, including the Taj have ‘dine with your pet ‘options, every alternate weekend. I don’t think there is anyone who has better karma than my dog Leo. He lounges at home all morning the cloudy weather making him sleepy, goes for long walks in the evenings, gobbles ‘Corner House’ ice-cream on Sundays and goes to the Dog Spa once in a month (which he loves by the way). Pets’ birthday parties are meticulously planned and celebrated with the same pomp as a toddler’s and the birthday doggy has even a cake ordered from an exclusive bakery called ‘Barkery’! I am only glad that Leo cannot talk; lest he would be throwing tantrums to throw him one and buy him toys! 

Being a true Chennaite who hasn’t experienced any other difference in weather except the variations in heat, I was awestruck when March began. The city burst into delicate shades of pink and lilac, akin to the cherry blossoms of Japan. It was the onset of spring! One could see these lovely Desi cherry blossoms dotting every road from the busiest MG road, to the narrow gullies, covering the ground with thick carpets of lavenders, pinks and radiant yellows. Such a sight does make one’s commute more pleasant, especially when you have to spend most of your time grinding your teeth through traffic.  For the first time in life I had actually witnessed the four different seasons. Until then my concept of season existed only in petty rom coms that I feasted on when ever I wanted to feel good.

After the mindless hurry of Mumbai and the sense of urgency plaguing Chennai, many would say that Bangalore reeks of laziness. Shops open leisurely at 11 AM and promptly roll down their shutters at 9PM.  And while you are the store nobody is a hurry to bill your items. What is the hurry? Why doesn’t one stop and smell the flowers seems to be the motto.

Weather. One of the first things that city serenades you with. And before you know it, it even transforms the 27-year-old Chennai Vaasi into an irritating tourist who sighs and grumbles about the weather every two minutes, while visiting any other city. A very tolerable summer meant I could wear my skinny jeans and full sleeve kurtas without a burning desire to cut my left arm and fling it in frustration. The weather spoiled me.

  

Rain frequents this city more often than others and drenches it into silence. The minute it starts raining, life comes to an abrupt halt. People scurry back to their homes, vendors shut shop and auto walas refuse to budge (even if that was an opportunity to milk and make more money). The romance of monsoon, hot chai and a book are the staple of every Banglorean.  Chill winters follow the monsoon and with winter, Bangloreans scramble into their sweatshirts and quilts and snuggle into deep slumber.  Weather comes first, work can wait.

“One of the nicest things about life is the way we must stop whatever it is we are doing and devote our attention to eating,” said Luciano Pavarotti and Bangaloreans are a fitting example of that.

The food in Bangalore grows exponentially to its population. People’s favorite past time is eating out. However people also gym and walk in Cubbon Park with equal ferocity. With the weather being kind, outdoor seating is the most favoured option. There is also something for every palette. Calcutta manifests itself in many outlets, Mexican is truly authentic and there are even restaurants serving the Anglo Indian community.  The plethora of restaurants have even wackier names, ‘A hole in the wall café’, ‘Fat Chef’ to name a few. With extravagant lifestyles and greater purchasing power, a stroll in the weekends makes one feel that nobody believes in cooking at home.

Besides Food, Bangalore’s other favorite pastime is Malls.  Much like IT companies, malls sprout in almost any available space, and most often the relationship is symbiotic and perhaps even parasitic. Without a beach, without a public place to relax (barring the parks that are sometimes littered with condoms), malls are the only hangout places that people throng at.  In Chennai the Express Avenue fascination lingered on for quite some time. “Lets go to Express Avenue” was something that we weren’t bored of saying. But the malls in Bangalore made my eyes sore. Aisles and aisles of the same stores, same products arranged in identical fashion and exorbitantly priced made me claustrophobic. But the people here take their shopping very seriously; for its very difficult to spot a Bangalorean who doesn’t like to dress well. Enormous amounts of money, time and energy seem to be spent especially by the young in recreating fashion trends. Many are literally cardboard cut outs of their favorite characters from TV shows such as ‘How I met your mother’, and ‘Gossip Girl’. Bags change with the season; so do colours of nail enamel and hairstyles with every new song. Being one of the so-called ‘trendy’ teachers in Chennai I was in for a shock when I entered the campus of the new college I started to teach in.  Almost all the Lecturers were impeccably dressed with earring matching their saris and hairstyles being flaunted even while lecturing. Their many chores of packing lunch boxes and fending off prying in -laws were no deterrents to dressing to the hilt. Some claimed that they have never repeated a sari!

What is about Chennai that I missed I did not know. Maybe it was the wide roads and less traffic. Maybe it was the beach. Or maybe it was just home.  Most probably it was just my mother. Home is where the mother is after all.  The fact is until two years ago I made all my memories only there.  But now I was in a new city making new memories. Bangalore accepted me very soon. The vibrant culture and the scores of things to do kept me hooked. In less than a year I scored off many things that I had dutifully written in my bucket list. I learnt to make sumptuous cup cakes, I drove, I learnt dance and did yoga to maintain my sanity. Running a house of two kids, one overgrown and one canine I felt the onus was on me to rise up to the occasion. From being the one who is generally taken care of I became the caregiver. I came home everyday to a million little things that needed to attend to. I diligently made ‘things to be done’ lists in my phone. I set right the curtains, cooked, washed, made the bed, stocked the fridge, and paid the billion bills that never stopped coming. I made a home. I announced that I was now a strong and independent woman!  Of course I happily and slyly shrugged off the tag every time I fell sick. (Which the husband would say was many a time). But the city was growing on me; and so was I.

From being the new girl in the city, exploring every nook and corner with excitement and caution I become the multitasking, independent woman that I always dreamt of being. It’s been a journey. Thanks to the city that just let me be.

Happily Ever After

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“Enjoying your honeymoon period? “. 1 year into marriage, and this is all I have been hearing from all quarters of the society. The word honeymoon makes me squeamish than any other word in the English dictionary. Speaking of which I Google the word and our modern age ‘go -to guide’, Wikipedia throws up this definition.” Honeymoon. Originally "honeymoon" simply described the period just after the wedding when things are at their sweetest; it is assumed to wane in a month. This is the period when newly wed couples take a break to share some private and intimate moments that helps establish love in relationship.”

The key here - this is the period, lasting perhaps a month to a year is supposed to be the sweetest and establishes love in the relationship.

I think not. I beg to differ. I strongly oppose.

Whoever has been telling us that the first year of marriage is a bed of roses has obviously never been married and is definitely wrong. Is it pragmatic to assume that life would be a beautiful for a new comer? When has life been kind to us when we had to face something for the first time? First time we went to school, first time our tooth fell, first time we went on stage, first time we rode a cycle, first crush, first exam. Oh hell, they have all been scary! They have all tested the best of our abilities. Logically speaking, shouldn’t one therefore conclude that having not been married before, that the first year of marriage is the hardest? The firsts only seem poetic or romantic in retrospect.

It’s a popular perception that couples are in their best of behavior during the years of dating. Maybe not. But its probably human tendency for partners to find things that they agree with more easily than things they don’t, during this time. But when the humdrum of everyday life kicks in, all the little things that one doesn’t agree with slowly starts bubbling up to the surface.

There are perhaps many couples who would recount their days of glory in the first one-year.  Many arranged marriages work beautifully on that principle. But for urban couples, who live alone, have distinct identities that they are uncompromising about, and are off the same age/have engaging careers; living together is a different plane.

With live-ins still a distant reality for most of us, the first one month of marriage is the first time you actually start seeing the person for 24 hours, 7 days a week.

 A typical day begins with you waking up to a groggy face and most often you are not a pretty sight either. White goo streaming from the corner of the eyes, tousled hair and sluggish body language. The door bill rings. Who is going to attend the door? An argument ensues. The less lazy, or the one who didn’t get up the previous time, or the one who is better dressed, gets up in a huff, muttering under his/her breath.  

Good Morning!

You observe his habits, and you study yours. If they clash, sometimes (rarely) you don’t care but if you are walking on the OCD tightrope, and these habits border on issues of hygiene, you argue.  Sometimes you also command in the pretext of a request. “Can you please close the lid of the toothpaste?” “ Can you not throw the wet towel on the bed”, followed by “ How many times have I told you; can’t you keep your footwear inside the shoe cabin,”

Most couples spend a lot of time, in their initial one-year of being together, eating out. This is usually due to pesky relatives’ invitation to honour your ‘holy matrimony’, but most of the time a result of the trials and many errors in the kitchen He points out that the salt is a wee bit more in the rasam. All right you mutter, but when you wonder why he couldn’t complement you with the same enthusiasm on the chicken that he is slowly slurping away, you fume.  When he cooks, the food tastes fine, but the kitchen is in complete disarray and there is way too much oil, you now nitpick. Food can say a lot about a person. Lack of food, and lack of food on time makes some people divulge their worst side. Some adjust and eat whatever they are given; some will eat precisely only five vegetables. Food dictates mood, food reveals upbringing yet food can also make people bond, especially when eaten out.

Fights. You squabble over petty things. Watching TV, over not helping in the kitchen, over not letting things go and squabble over squabbling all the time.  Whether house chores, or planning a vacation, you want things to get done immediately, he doesn’t understand why everything is urgent and suggests that you take a ‘chill pill. ‘You don’t want to become the nagging wife stereotype, yet you are treading that thin and dangerous line between getting things done without sounding nagging. “Why can’t you do it when I tell you to do it, then I don’t have to nag” you bark and justify. But by then you are already labeled ‘Hitler’! It is a vicious cycle!

Sometimes the fundamental principle of nature- people are different is sadly forgotten. He doesn’t want to talk about work when he comes back. He would rather have the SportsCenter chick or FIFA 13 for company. But it’s your nature to rattle off about the day and ask a lot of questions.  He answers in monosyllables with his eyes transfixed to the screen. The attention is divided, and the rattle turns ballistic.

When he is upset he wants to be left alone, when you are, you want to talk for hours, eat something high calorie, or go out for some retail therapy.

At the end of the day, when you don’t have a rationale you simply put the blame on nature. Men and women. Oh we are wired do differently. (I am sure Allan Pease of  'Why men dont listen and women cant read maps’ fame is having a hearty laugh).

But somewhere along the way of exploring uncharted regions in the relationship and testing waters, you learn. Sometimes unlearn and re-learn. In that process you may also discover new found interests and shared beliefs. You watch movies together and dissect them in glee. You have always wanted to hike and he has been hiking all his life. So he pushes you to walk that extra mile.  Kindergarten duties are rekindled as you learn to divide and share. He loves going for long walks while you don’t. So he takes the dog for a walk while you make tea. And you bathe the dog while he dusts the fan. You also learn each other’s quirks and idiosyncrasies. He is not a morning person and there is no point in bombarding him with questions when he wakes up. You don’t like anybody hovering around you after work and appreciate it when he doesn’t.

He may never understand why you have so many cushions on the diwan, or the concept of window-shopping. You may never get his fascination for the Xbox. As long as you are not trying to change each other, sanity prevails.

Walking together along the learning curve, you pick up the nuances; the little somethings that help you determine where to draw the line, when to put the foot down, where to give up and when to give in.  Then finally one day when maturity makes a come back, you decide that little things must be given only little attention.

As the sunsets, and you snuggle into bed, feeling the warmth and happiness of being together, you realize that most importantly you have learnt to prioritize. You have learnt to accommodate, without that translating into a compromise. (Which is a big word and which never works in the long run). You learn to live and let live, and love without hurting the other. The impromptu ‘I want ice cream now’ trips, movie marathons and sudden holidays make up for all the glitches.

Since we have finally learnt to live with each other, we feel more settled and reconciled to life, doesn’t the happily ever after begin now?

Despite the several arguments, as long as the fun never stops (even while doing the dishes), the laughter never dies (over each other’s stupidity), love is always around, the journey never ends and the learning never stops.

Let the honeymoon (yuck) begin!