BJP and the New Indiranagar

Man wakes up in C V Ramanagar. It’s 1999 and his morning routine is a combination of grunted tutts, balcony teeth brushing and bucket bathing. It’s Sunday and the time is 11:30 AM. The date is April 2 and thanks to the late evening shower from the previous night, the weather this pre-noon is acceptable. Too hot for a DSP or Bagpiper. Just right for a chilled glass of beer. He has seventy rupees in his pocket. In his head, he solves a slow and seemingly complex mathematical problem. 15 rupees for petrol and 55 rupees for beer. 38 more and there’s a pitcher at the other end of this story. He calls a friend on his landline, the fucker’s just woken up but the prospect of beer is enticing. It will be a no-bath Sunday for him. The Man picks up the keys to the Splendor and leaves. There are no helmets in Bangalore in 1999. He is wearing a checked shirt, ill-fitting jinspants that are altered too short and bata chappals. There is also no style in Bangalore in 1999. He carries with him a Dostoevsky book, probably the Brothers Karamazov, dog-eared in every page and a packet of Wills Flake with a couple of fags and a half smoked, badly stubbed Gold Flake King.  

The two congregate at BEML, and proceed down Thippasandra main road towards Indiranagar. On the left, they pass a godown of old barrels and a tent theatre playing a matinee show of some Shakila movie. It looks raunchy. Not sexy. Raunchy. Ten seconds later, they have reached 80 feet road. Indiranagar is a ghost town. Populated by octogenarians and retired faujis who came to this city looking for the Holy Grail, a peaceful place to die. You didn’t venture into the many mains that connected 80 foot road to 100 foot road unless you wanted to venture into a dense, unforgiving forest. The houses were nice, yes, but the green canopy ensured that even the middle of the afternoon felt like dusk. The two decide to head forward, passing 12^th and 6^th Main, the latter only visited to play some outdoor sport at Shit Valley or smoke a fat spliff at the smaller park on the adjacent road. There was a lot of chronic in Bangalore in 1999, thanks mainly to Jayanagar Amma. You know who I’m talking about.

They reach Chinamaya Mission Hospital and take a left on to CMH Road. There are no traffic signals in Indiranagar. The only semblance of any activity in Indiranagar is on CMH Road. Half of Indiranagar has descended at Karthik’s chaat to have his Sunday special Chana Bhatura. The fanciest restaurant in Indiranagar is Raaga. For continental food, there is Casa Picola. They had no idea how to make a spaghetti carbonara in 1999. The rest of the fancy restaurants in Bangalore still don’t know how to make a spaghetti carbonara in 2014. 

After riding for about 3 minutes from BEML gate, the Man takes a right at double road and heads towards Indiranagar RTO. This is because, there are no pubs in Indiranagar except for Beer Joint Pub. There are bars, yes. Nice Bars. Shaalimaar, Viceroy, Sandra’s, Muthathi, etc. But no pubs. No place to get your beer off a tap and chill the fuck out. Nada. Not one. But there is Beer Joint Pub. With a fantabulous Mushroom Pepper Fry that tastes the same in 2014 that it did in 1999. Still keeping it strong. The Man and Friend settle down and order a couple of pints and a mushroom pepper fry. After a couple more, they realise this is no fun. 

They head across to Danny Lamba’s with a purchased quart of some spurious spirit.

Man, how things have changed!