I thought Bombay was making me
impatient and angry. I loved my job, I loved watching TV at home and I loved
meeting my friends in great restaurants. But in between those places,
everything sucked. The potholes and traffic, the crowds and the noise, the
anger and frustration radiating from everyone.
So I guess, when everyone
warned me about Bangalore, I couldn't really take it seriously. I knew the
potholes and traffic, the crowds and noise would be the same or worse but I
really believed that a break from the driven people in Bombay would be very
welcome. Warnings like "people are slow and inefficient compared to
Bombay" were brushed off by my over-enthusiasm, "great, I need to learn
to take things slow and be more patient." This was the strain of
conversations so you can see that I probably earned the wake-up shock I'm now
enduring!
Here are some typical
interactions in Bangalore to illustrate my experiences:
* Me to the employee at
Subway: Can you speed up my sandwich, I'm in a hurry.
Employee: Ok (while he
abandons my sandwich to take other orders)
* Cashier at Shoppers Stop:
You want to upgrade your gold loyalty card to platinum? You'll get additional
benefits.
My friend: What are the
additional benefits?
Cashier: Uh...uh... (this goes
on for about 5-10 minutes before he admits that he does not know)
* On Residency Road during
rush hour, I have been stuck behind an Innova for a long time while the lanes
next to me crawl ahead. When I finally manage to maneuver my way out and creep
forward, I see the driver has switched off the car and is eating peanuts bought
from a cart on the road.
* On collection of a car from
Renault (after 3 months of waiting and pressure posting on their Facebook
page), I ask the salesman: Do I need covers for the seats?
Salesman: Yes. It will cost
about 30-40,000 more and will take a week (which could easily be a month in
Bangalore terms)
Me: When were you going to
tell me this?! If I hadn't asked would you have told me?
Saleman: No (with a grin I
could deck him for)
* In a car stuck in traffic on
Old Airport Road, the driver has switched off the car and is leisurely cutting
his nails out of the window.
* Carpenter who has arrived
unexpectedly: Madam I have come to do your work.
My aunt: You were supposed to
come 3 days back. What happened and why didn't you call?
Carpenter: My phone didn't
work, Madam. I've come now (with a flourish)
My aunt: But now is not convenient
to me. I have to go out.
Carpenter: But Madam can you
still pay me?
While I sometimes want to kill
the Bangalorean who can't be bothered to do his job properly or hurry up, I
sometimes also want to be like him. Somewhere, he has disconnected (or never
connected) with the things that drive the rest of us crazy and prevent us from
enjoying the other parts of our lives. While I carry home my frustration at the
traffic, he seems not bothered by it even while actually experiencing it. Like
the gurus of the old days, he seems to inhabit a different world which allows
him to savour his life and not allow any interruption while he does so.
I might feel great if I were
separated from the stresses of being on time or rushing my work but I shudder
to think how it might impact my career. The discipline and efficiency drilled
into me serve a purpose, after all. Would I be any good at my job if I didn't
obsess and sweat over it? And would I be employable outside Bangalore if I
decided to move?
I have discovered that it's not easy to answer these
questions. A part of me, admittedly the larger part, is
trying to light a fire under the Bangaloreans I encounter. Trying to get them
to care about the things I care about like time and efficiency. This same part
of me goes into overdrive when I visit Bombay, frantically doing chores I can't
begin to figure out in Bangalore. Yet, there is a small part of me that wonders
what it would be like to be free of the boundaries I have drawn for myself. To
slow down, to taste an unfamiliar joy that remains impervious and invulnerable
to external pressures.
