… we apologise for the technical hitch … banglore revisited
Back in Bangalore, motivated by another batch of lessons in Hindustani raga. Not looking forward to Bangalore, but the arrival is much less chaotic, and I avoid the accomodation touts altogether. This time, I find a decent cheap place, 150Rs. After a few nights, I find that the airier doubles are only an extra 20Rs. Share squat toilets, bucket wash, mainly travelling Indian workers … but this is all quite ok for the price. The airy room makes a big difference, and I’ve managed to avoid the worst pitfalls of Bangalore. On the whole, it seems friendlier and more inviting. Due to a technical mishap (laptop malfunction and associated saga), I ended up staying here several days more than I would like. Narasimhalu returns to Reichur after several days, the last night of which saw the accident with the lappie. Stranded in Bangalore with few things to do, planty to write and nothing to write on, I take to a bit of gratuitous tourism.
I arrived just one day after one of Bangalore’s main religious festivals, and at the start of an extended music fest which would culminate in a superlative gig by Kadri. The streets around the main market are still lined with lots of floats tractor or bullock pulled, simple decorations of colored paper and bamboo, small tinny and loud sound systems, but all done to such an excess that it is a riotous overload to the senses. I join in the dancing, to drums and bhajan melodies, and am joined by a lad who blows me out by the fact that he does a stunning limbo … inspite of the 20 or so excess kilos he is carrying … and I though I was fit. I console myself with the fact that the extra kilos are obviously a counter balance for extreme level limbo. A water dance in an improvised Ganesha altar in a small wading pool. Hoses for fountains, but in the heat, it is extremely pleasant … and I’m fit and ready to search for my first target on the Bangalore tourist trail … an astrolooger who reads from a book of palm leaves that I’d been told about by some Germans in Gokarna. I’m dissapointed by the fact that he takes a lot of bookings, and needs a 2 month advance notice for a consultation … I’m not really a huge fan of astrology anyway, but the interesting thing here is that the readings are based from a very old library written on palm leaves. Next time maybe.
On the way back to my hotel, I stumble across a music festival and, though most of the gigs are bu folk I know nothing of, this nights is by Showmya, one of Chennai’s stalwarts and a personal favourite … she is very traditional, hard nosed, and has a rock solid sense of time. It’s a great gig, and I manage to slip into one of the very comfortable sponsors couches without parting with a rupee. Years of sneaking into dodgy rock gigs and concert hall jazz shows stand me in good stead.
The Siva temple of Bangalore is not the only temple to the icon of masculinity in town, but Bangalore tourism bills it as ‘The Shiva Temple’. Perhaps because it is very new, is not featured on the temple listings if the western guide books, and doesn’t have a fancy sanskrit name. Way out in the suburbs it is a hellish bus ride to get to, and an even more hellish ride back in Bangalore peak hour. But well worth the trip … amazingly kitch, a cross between disneyland’s pirates of the carribean ride, a suburban gospel church, and a regular shiva temple. Very funny, and very Bangalore. It features a cave with animatronic models of all the significant lingams of siva. He rolls his eyes pokes his trident. A rubber snake darts out from a log and back again. You can visit all the important shaivite sites from the comfort of suburban Bangalore. The courtyard is dominated by a giant concrete shiva. Cheesy music wafts across the courtyard from an live electrified bhajan group … tabla, electric keyboard and vocalist. This is not the uplifting down home spiritual stuff I’d experienced in Chennai, but it works for the locals, and after so many temple visits, so many ancient serious and important places, so many priests hitting you up for 20Rs to see their special sacred ground and hear their stories, the blatant trashiness (to my western sensibilities, not to Indian ones … it’s a very popular temple) … well it’s really refreshing.
More refreshing again are the Nandi Hills, a one hour bus trip from Bangalore, and a popular picnic spot. A bit crowded on busy days, but a great view from an old fort with lush gardens, monkeys pulling fleas off each other and trying to steal food from tourists … and fresh air is a relief after the density of Bangalore’s filth. Eucalypts everywhere … growing straight like they rarely do in Australia … every time I see one it gives me good feelings of the country of my birth.
Kadri’s gig, a jugalbandhi with a northern flute player is majestic. I can’t and don’t really need to say more. It helps me focus back on what I really want to learn musically here in India. Kadri is a master of the sax with a unique style (by western standards) that gives breath and dynamism to the vocal traditions of karnatic music. A master of tone and of rhythm. I’ve been finding more and more that elements of the karnatic sax style have been creeping naturally into my playing on the soprano, even with western music.
Much of the rest of the rest of the time in Bangalore I’m on the ground hastling the repair shop who are fixing the laptop. (Broken screen after a fall in a suburban bus). Negotiations haggling, harassing complaining apologising standing ground. All the things you need to do to get something complex done in India. The technical hitch is cleared, and I’m on my way … 2 weeks later than planned.
Leaving Bangalore, for my next bout of tourism, I decide to leave the big pack in storage at the railway station … probably the sanest idea I’ve had so far in India. … onwards to Hampi and beyond.
