A Good Joke

When I managed to slip away for the weekend to Bangalore, I expected I 'd have a lot more to do in the city, but I find myself at 8 in the evening, valiantly trying to blog on my brother's computer about the day's happenings. First, I must mention that I arrived here Friday night and having no intention of spending half the night searching for my brother's minuscule apartment amidst the myriad minuscule apartments in a certain part of Koramangala( It just so happens that he had to shift just a few weeks before I arrived), I decided to impose on a friend of a friend and spend the night there. More like a cousin of a friend. And his wife...We drank some vodka and had omelettes in the morning. Not a bad stay, actually.

To tell you the truth I've never really had a very good experience in Bangalore. To think of the few times that I've been here I feel a flurry of ambivalent emotions begin to surge in me. For a better understanding of my predicament one should dig deep into my blog and read a few posts from yesteryear....Or screw it. Just assume. As my maths teacher would say while referring to certain theorems. To be fair, I don't think I'd understand them anyway. She'll also, from time to time, say things like 'I'm scared' which is now a cue for us to just screw it and assume that she means 'm squared'. To be fair, we should all just get up and march like zombies to the nearest wall and bang our heads against it. Among such grave errors of pronunciation, the ones that are worthy of 'The hall of fame for grave errors of pronunciation' are "oltage" instead of voltage, "armachoor" instead of armature, "sir-cute" instead of circuit and the most misleading of them all -"virginal" instead of original.

But I digress from my topic. My topic,yet again, is Bangalore. Bangalore, where a warm, sunny day can succumb to a fit of thundering, hacking rain without prior warning. Bangalore, where unemployment and overpopulation are a thing of the past - it seems to firmly believe in the aphorism ' The more, the merrier' or 'Come all ye useless sacks of lard, we have minuscule apartments aplenty and bedbugs to infest thy homes'. Bangalore, where water flows through taps like traffic on a Monday morning, and traffic on a Monday morning flows like honey onto a fly-trap. Bangalore, where the roads are narrow and undulating and cross each other like a mass of snakes at their yearly mating ritual. Actually, an attempt at a laconic description of this city would be an exercise in futility. It demands an eloquent, almost poetic presentation like that of London by Dickens, or Narnia by C.S.Lewis( notice the subtle allusion that I've actually read the both of them).

The one thing I find really great about this city is the profusion of malls and junk food joints at every corner. The names of the malls, however,well, they can do better. Seriously what the fuck is a 'Total Mall'? Or 'Garuda Mall' for that matter? So I found myself at the most presentably named mall today in the afternoon - Forum. Another thing about Bangalore is that there are too many people. I know I say that about everywhere I've lived, but there will hardly be an instance in Kolkata when there's a good chance of being trampled by a rabble of people inside South City. You see not many people in Kolkata can afford to go to Malls....In a way it's beautiful. So as I pushed my way through the confused mob and strained my eyes to see the shows on the screen, a massive life-sized poster caught my eye. There were a bunch of people who can only be described as circus freaks, with expressions ranging from menacing to sexy to constipated to apathetic( in that order) with the words G.I.Joe - Releasing August 2009 printed in glossy, metallic letters across the poster. Nostalgia. It reminded me of when I was 8 and thought it was the ultimate pleasure in life to own the complete collection of finger-sized, plastic figures. Then of course, puberty hit and using these figures as cricket balls seemed a much more worthwhile passtime. It's strange. I've never really liked cricket.

As it turned out, our tickets for 'The Proposal' were for 3:30 in the afternoon, leaving us a good 3 hours to kill. I spent the time gazing at shoes at the Reeboks, and the Nikes and the Adidas-es(?) I was, on several occasions, approached by an enthusiastic attendant who, with all the zeal a minimal-pay job can invoke, started to explain the various features of the models to me. I learned a very imprtant lesson. Saying "Oh I'm just looking" is not the best way to respond. In fact, if you try the damn things on and walk around lop-sided in them, you'd get a better reaction from the attendant than if you just shrug him aside. The proper way to go about it would be to say "Oh umm, I don't really need them now. I'm just looking at what's available." Yes, I've studied the art of shoe-salesmanship. I'm pretty sure I shall become a shoe-salesman. I shall ask questions like "What exactly are you looking for, sir?" and throw people out who say "Oh I'm just looking"! In the course of the afternoon I also managed to slip in a late lunch at KFC. As I learned from experience, it's the only place where you can say things like "I've got one wing, a leg and a breast" and not look stupid. In fact, I've actually taken a liking to the Colonel Sanders logo. He seems warm and welcoming, and smiles in a very grandfatherly way and seems to say "Come. Eat my chicken at exorbitant prices, smile for me as you eat it, and when you're done give me a great big hug as a show of love." I love you Colonel Sanders!

'The Proposal' turned out to be an entertaining movie, and the day itself, all-in-all, a well spent one. As I now type and swat bedbugs and listen to my brother rant about how there are 8 stages in their life cycle, I feel I must end this post. But first, chew on this. "Blake saw society's true face, chose to be a parody of it. A joke. I heard a joke once. Man goes to doctor. Says he's depressed. Life seems harsh and cruel. Says he feels all alone in a threatening world. Doctor says treatment is simple. The great clown Pagliacci is in town. Go see him. That should pick you up. Man bursts into tears. 'But doctor' he says, 'I am Pagliacci!' Good joke. Everybody laugh. Roll on snare drums. Curtains."