Begaluru!

Initially, I was very excited about going to Bangalore. Bang - galore! However, I found to my dismay that it is not much different from our own beloved Kolkata. The roads are narrow ( though in a whole lot better condition than Kolkata), it is hot, and the chanawalas on the road curse you in rabble speech and words you've never heard before when you try to run them over. Actually, I can't understand anything any South Indian says. Even their hindi is adulterated to a great exent with 'anda-manda' and 'yamma' and 'unga-ponga-ille'! Ok not all of them. The ladies wear 'malas' in their hair. I don't really care, but wouldn't it be wiser to use a hairband? Atleast it would save them the trouble of waking up in the middle of every night in cold sweat and shouting "Oh my God! The flowers just shrivelled up! I need to buy myself a few hundred more first thing in the morning! Ille-pongo-unge!"

Surprisingly, idli and dosa are not the only main food item in their hotels. In fact, in the course of my stay there, I didn't even touch that stuff! Actually, one whiff of south indian food sends me running to the bathroom. No, I don't find it tasty, I don't think it's a delicacy( the fact that you get them on the roads for 6 bucks should've given you a hint), and Superman damn sure never had any of it( contrary to what my mom used to tell me when she used to force-feed me that disgusting mush at a south indian joint). One of these days, I'll try some idli with jam though! Anyway, the purpose of my visit to Bangalore was to write the exam for Singapore! ( Sounds like an interesting life doesn't it? Travel places....Meet interesting people....Write exams! Kinda like joining the army! Travel places.....Meet interesting people....kill them!! Well, atleast they get the pleasure of spilling blood.) Dad and I stayed with my brother in his flat, and my brother stays with three other guys. So it was a bit of a squeeze. Don't worry we kept dad locked up in a separate room so his snores wouldn't bother us. The exam itself was just an alibi. Dad went there to eat. I just know it! There's this amazing place there called Kabaab Magic! The word Kabaab itself spells carnage for chickens worldwide, and the magic lies in the helpless chunks of flesh being torn off greasy bones in a ravenous display of ferocious hunger! Yup, nothing satisfies hunegr better than meat! The only Kabab mein haddi was the exam I had to sit for that kept gnawing at the back of my mind.

Now the Biswases may not be great thinkers or philosophers or whatever, but dammit we can eat! Together, at any instant of time, at any decent city with decent restaurants, my dad, brother and I can cause the total annihilation of about half the chicken population living( or already dead and spread out for us) in that place. The universe can't afford to have all of us together throughout the year( neither can we!). KFC would prosper too much. So it shouldn't surprise you when I say that each of us sat down with our separate dishes of an entire chicken each. I chose something called broasted chicken. It was a cheap imitation of KFC( without the colonel's special mix of herbs and spices). It wasn't as good as KFC, but it was a lot lighter on the wallet and comprised an entire carcass deep-fried with potatoes. My brother chose grilled chicken! This was another full chicken. Finally, dad decided to choose something exotic. It was called 'Push-n-Pull Chicken'. However, it turned out to be too spicy. So he sat there sweating, wheezing and crying, still not willing to give up his plate as my brother and I swept clean our own plates and stared hungrily and his.

The chief means of transport in Bangalore is the auto. It sputters like a choir of holy angels farting, guzzles fuel and effuses smoke with the vigour of an old man coughing. As for the demented crazies who drive these monstrous vehicles of doom, they'll hold nothing back in their endeavours to cheat, swindle, threaten you out of money and then they'll metamorphosise into their make-believe affable nature to give you a breather before they cheat you again. First, they'll try the good autowalla - bad autowalla routine! There will be two of them, parked side by side. The first one will ask for a whopping 50 bucks extra to take you to your destination. You'll try to negotiate and after a long straining effort, when you've almost given up, the other one will walk sweetly up and make an offer you can't resist. Only 20 bucks extra! ....bastards. Then there's the moody approach. After walking around in the blistering heat, when you've realised that you're lost, you see the more than welcome sight of a solitary auto basking in the shade by the pavement. You walk up to the guy and ask for a ride. He decides to take you for a ride by asking you for 150 bucks. Obviously you'll refuse. Then when you've walked on, the guy will come all the way around and offer to cut down 20 bucks. So far this has been a most unsuccessful method with me as I can't resist offering my middle finger to the prick who tries to show me his generosity by whacking my money! These methods are unmistakably the brainchild of shrewd, cunning minds. Finally, there's the most pathetic sympathetic approach.

You'll stop an auto and ask for a ride to the airport. The autowala will ask for a measly 30 bucks extra( as if they throw 30 bucks away at the butts of hookers every Friday night at Harlem.) You'll think this guy's a pussy and try to negotiate.

"Take 100 bucks." ( that would be about 10 bucks extra)

"No saab, with ten bucks I won't even get daal with my food. I'll have to eat chana!"
( The best use he could put to his ten bucks is to buy a condom and stop producing little versions of himself, who in the future shall inevitably cheat, swindle and rob us...or he may be good in studies in which case he will cheat, swindle and rob us of our seats at colleges because of his VIP Scheduled caste/tribe seat reservations.)

"Ok 15 bucks no more!"

"No saab, I have 2 kids to feed!"
(The government's fuckin' given you a meter to go by, it's a privilege I'm even paying you a buck extra. Don't impugn me humanity! If you're driving an auto, obviously you have no other skills, so stop dwelling in self pity and buy a frikkin' condom!)

But you say aloud - " OK fine! Just stop your whining!"

This is precisely what happenned when we were leaving back for sweet Kolkata! My dad, being a man of his word, would never cheat on an autowalla after the deal was done. But as we reached the vast doorways of the Bangalore airport, buzzing with people, a brilliant plan struck me! "This is my territory," I thought to myself. " When he picked us up, we were lost. Now we're just a few feet away from gettign away!" When an autowalla finds some suckers and fixes on a price, he usually turns his meter off so that the authorities can't catch him. So I calmly asked my dad to go ahead, I'd pay the guy myself. He was more than happy to let me handle it. When the black speck of my father's personage disappeared through customs with our luggage, I took out 50 bucks, threw it on the guy's face and ran! Revenge is sweet! When you've caught a guy by the balls, do not hesitate to screw him over....figuratively. Anyway, the plane was delayed by over 2 hours, so we spent more than a 100 bucks on eateries.

Now, as I sit here sipping my soup with melted vicks, I realise I have a lot in common with the lesbian community. They have close cropped-hair, and I have close-cropped hair. They dislike men, and I dislike man(kind). They could be quite content never having sex with a man again, and I too fall into this category.I guess the only question that remains is, how am I not a lesbian?