An Evening In Bangalore

The railroad cuts through the place in a duct, the both sides of which are lined by tall and lean eucalyptuses. Beyond the trees rows of condominiums, all in drab and dull shades, but all different from each other. The single line track leads all the way to Salem, but has little traffic, barely a dozen trains a day.

They had entered into the permanent way, through a narrow path that wound by a tree. Jose and Anoop, they were both of the same height and build. They often wondered how similar they were despite having come from widely different circumstances.

Walking on the rails was difficult, since they had to watch their stride to step from one sleeper to the next once. The heath had grown up on both the sides. The rails themselves were covered with all kinds of rubbish.

They might have walked a kilometer, when there was no more buildings and roads to be seen.Even the Eucalyptus trees were gone. The thicket was tree high now. The unpolished smell of wild flowers was in the air. Then suddenly the thicket gave up and revealed a clearing, on both sides was a huge boggy pond, fringed with hyacinth, and greens on the banks, where sickly stray zebu loitered. Giant leaves of taro protruded over the water on the near side of the pond. The railroad continued over a rickety bridge with a single stone-pier in the middle.

There they sat down by the tracks, facing the opposite sides,

"Don't you have ever imagined there is a place like this, in here".

"No, I didnt".

"I always wondered what was here, if we followed down the tracks. There

is more, beyond there's a depot down the road."

"When's the next train this road".

"The last train to Dharmapuri comes down in an hour. Come, lets go down to the depot."

They started walking again, crossing precarously over the old bridge, the green water below visible through all the crevasses made by rust and decay. The thicket resumed after the bridge,on one side, while the other side the ground declines steeply just beyond the permanent way, down to the pond. The land that borders the pond might once have been rice paddies, now its just grass. The thickets give way once more as the depot approached. It was a tiny station, with just the one line, not even a loop for crossings. There was a gated road crossing at the fag end of the station.

"Lets wait here for the Dharmapuri, should be here soon".

"Ok".

They waited by the platform. Darkness spread rather quickly and the November air had become a tad more cooler. After perhaps ten minutes they could hear the horn blowing and a bright light shining from up the road. The last train to Dharmapuri was coming.

* * *

Jose took deep breaths to see if it made him better to breathe the cool Bangalore air after so long. He walked out of the airport terminal whose bland glass panels and unimaginative roof structure appeared rather unsightly to him. Outside the terminal he hired a taxi to take him to the city.It was early morning and the city was slowly waking up. The way life takes one to

places seems strange and mysterious. Sometimes when one comes back its not the same place, its a different place, a new place.

BlackBerry and the state of freedom

The central government seems to put serious efforts into needless things like trying to impose controls on BlackBerry messaging service. Government is claiming terrorists are using the BlackBerry services.So they demand that BlackBerry provide a back door for the government to snoop on its own citizens.This is outrageous and draconian.This is like being in a police state.In a free democratic country like India, it is unacceptable that the government reserves right to read the private communications of the citizens.

Incompetent zealots like Home Secretary G.K Pillai are willfully calling for the rights of our citizens for secure communications to be violated.What makes me wonder most is how the Indian media approached the episode.They were merely toeing the official line, and their reports were reading like press releases from the Home Ministry.The response of the Indian business world was appalling too: One business leader supposedly stated that BlackBerry needs to understand that business is done "differently" in India and needs to back down.

I would say it is unethical for the government to ask BlackBerry or any other service provider to provide a back door or escrow mechanism for monitoring of communications.

More ruins

If I stood up, and looked out of the window , from the room where I usually work, I can see these buildings. I've asked many people no body says anything clearly. It sits near the edge of a hyacinth covered pond fringed with heath.The buildings are not protected by any fences or palisades, and seems not to be under any care.The only people I see near it are children playing and flying kites.


Speaking of old places and kites I am remembered of Ruskin Bond's story "Kite Maker" , I do not know which place he had in mind when he wrote that story, I feel it could easily have been of this city.

The wrong shade of white

Some Indian software companies have strange dress codes. You have to "well dressed", with the tie around the neck and the shoes on the feet. The shirts have to be of particular shades. I consider infosys to be one of the biggest culprits in the regard of enforcing dress codes.

I feel it as ironic , for anybody who is a programmer , whose normal cultural stereotype would not have anything to do with being well dressed , to be forced to work wearing this sort of crap.
Besides , it is outrageous to fine somebody for not wearing the tie. These companies are getting their priorities wrong.There should be no compulsion on the people to adhere to any sort of dress code. Because being well dressed does not have anything to do with programming.

I am reminded of an incident, Andrew Tanenbaum mentioned somewhere in his writings , about the experiences he had of working for a big company. He decided to leave them when he was subject to lengthy lectures on maintaining the decorum , after he wore a shirt of the wrong shade of white to the office.

I am writing this , because a long time ago , I did not not join infosys because of the darn dress code.Hey , HR , over there at infosys, you could loose people because of the darn stupid dress code, if you are still enforcing it.

The treasures of the old city

The old city is under curfew.There are policemen in most of the streets.An outburst of communal violence have disrupted the normal flow of life in this part of the city where you are never away from the links that connect to its past , its history.

Wayside monuments , crumbling mausoleums , sarcophagi , they are all there to be seen for those who wish to see. Here I am going to describe one such historically significant construction barely a stones throw from where I live: The Paigah tombs .

The people who write guidebooks to Indian cities should be burned at the stakes.In all probability you could pick up half a dozen guide books on Hyderabad , which says Paigah tomb is a historical site where Paigahs , cronies of the old Nizams are interned.I bet none of the books ever says where they are located , and there wont be any pictures of it, leaving the reader and traveler totally clueless.In fact I could not even find any pictures of the place online, and this place is supposed to be under government care.

So by sheer luck I got to know , that this place is near where I live.Just 5 minutes walk.One Sunday afternoon , I finally decided to go an explore the place.On entry I met the guide who is also the security guard.He insisted that footwear to be removed before entering into the graveyard.

The graveyard is a simple affair with an open roof.There is some ornate decorations on top of the walls.These graves seemed to be of people of lesser stature in the Nizams court.Once you walk across the graveyard, there is an open courtyard.

There seems to be a few families living inside the complex.The guard mentions that they are caretakers.Well , to me they didn't look like caretakers , more like they were just living there.On side of the courtyard there is building with a proper roof and marble flooring.The higher ups seemed to be buried there.The guard can go on explaining these for quite a long , like this fellow who is buried here was the owner of Begum Bazar, this fellow was owner of Saifabad , and this fellow wakes up every day at 2 o clock in the night and goes to the masjid.

One you reach the end of this roofed structure , there is pond or tank behind which is a small mosque .The mosque seems to be used for active worship.Towards one side of the mosque is a dilapidated structure containing more graves.

Beyond that is another building , totally covered by vegetation and in dilapidated state.The guide refused to let me go into there.He insisted there were snakes and much more in there , and it would be positively dangerous to go in.I just think that is a place of disputed ownership with private parties , they might have gotten some restraining order to prevent visitors being brought in there.

As you travel around old city , you can see many such things.I wish if I had time and interest to go to all such places, once the old city returns to peaceful times.