Don’t you wish you could do something about the world’s worst poverty where you could clearly SEE your impact?
You can. That’s why we, Good Earth started our Adopt-a-Village program.
Your group, church, business or civic organization can partner with a specific developing village in Africa, Asia or the Middle East, and help that village escape severe poverty. (We’re even going to test “online groups” adopting villages.)
Here’s how Adopt-a-Village works (we do this on an individual basis, so contact us about you and your group):
You get to adopt a specific developing village with 'Good Earth', helping it escape poverty through our TCD (Transformational Community Development).
TCD
It may seem like we’re reaching for the stars, but we believe the stars are within reach. Transformation is possible. A desperately poor village can become self-sustaining.
That’s where our Transformational Community Development (TCD) method comes into the story. Our local staff or partners are trained in our TCD method to assist each village with effective guidance and coaching.
The TCD Objective is to help villages achieve TCD Sustainability in five key areas:
Water - enough clean water for drinking, cooking and hand washing
Food - sufficient nutritious food to mitigate chronic hunger and malnutrition
Wellness - demonstration and training in critical sanitation, hygiene and disease-prevention measures
Income - startup resources for dignified and sustainable family income generation
Education – access to primary level education for every girl and boy
Your annual financial commitment goes to fund GE Trainers and GE Projects in your adopted village.
You build a true relationship with your village through our regular updates, Good Earth Compassion Trips and actual live video conversations.
You celebrate with your adopted village as they reach TCD milestones!
You visit your adopted village once in 2 years if it's outside India.
You engage with the students in local Government primary and secondary schools
Sound great? It is! We’re just at the beginning stages of connecting groups to help villages all over the world.
To know more, please write to me
tony@tune4.com
Tony Joseph Thomas
B-15, Good Earth Orchard
Dodaballe Road, Near KSRTC Regional Workshop
Kengeri, Bangalore, Karnataka, India
Ph : 09995000007/09916660556
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Sunday, May 22, 2011
Artist Rep in India
‘Representing an artist’ is the latest fad in Indian art market. Gallerists do sit in-s in artists’s studios with wads of currency notes and loads of sugary promises. They do keep their words too. But will this phenomenon do good for the contemporary art scene?
Representation is a complex word that suggests a ‘stand in or stand for’ situation. ‘Someone or something stands for someone or something else implied’ is the idea behind the word ‘representation’. In the context of art, the word ‘representation’ functions as a tool or method that explicates the results of aesthetic production. An artist could represent a thing or an idea using different mediums. Representation in this sense is a contextually defined practice. Linguists say that representation is not a universally accepted concept. On the contrary, it is a polemical suggestion, which could trigger off too many discourses. Art is the supreme place of representation, hence a field of polemics.
What, then, about ‘representing the artist’? How could someone represent the artist? How do we perceive the act of someone who claims to be the representative of the artist? How could this process of accommodating the polemical double representation be understood during a time when art rules the market? Can an artist allow himself to be ruled by the regulations drawn by the so called ‘representatives’? These questions become pertinent especially when we witness the boom in Indian art market refuse to settle, happily for the good of all the players in this market; artists, gallerists, buyers, collectors, secondary market dealers, critics, curators and even the carpenters and courier agencies.
The boom in Indian music live market has created phenomenally funny examples that would be remembered as the flipside of a wonderful change. Gallerists donning the mantle of curators and curators doubling up themselves as art dealers are some of the interesting changes that we have witnessed in the last two years. To make matters a bit grave, now some of the gallerists have started acting as the ‘sole representatives’ of certain artists. Though it is not a new phenomenon, the latest fad of ‘representing the artist’ contains a fair amount of danger in it. Monopolizing the aesthetics by an ‘interest group’ could be the gravest outcome.
A gallery representing an artist, in previous years, was a happy work arrangement. Artists, who did not like to entertain buyers and secondary market hawkers in their studios or stages, had developed cordial and strategic relationship with galleries. It was a time when the market was ‘gallery oriented’. Currently we have an ‘artist oriented’ market. Artists have the freedom to decide the shows they want to participate, choose the galleries they want to work with, put certain demands while agreeing to have solo shows etc. When artists became supremely important for the market, several strategies were developed (by the gallerists) in order to keep the artist in good humor. Buying out and representing are the two resultant strategies, which could prove fatal to a comparatively young art market of India.
‘Representing an artist’, as seen today in India, is a limited and limiting concept. By representing an artist, the gallerist puts an invisible embargo on the concerned artist that binds him from participating in other shows or working with other galleries or curators. Thus by becoming the sole authority of an artist’s creative output, the gallerist can prioritize his buyers and leave many other genuine buyers and art collectors. Then the artist is entertained to the luxurious maximum that makes him even morally and ethically bonded to the gallerist. The freedom enjoyed by the supremely powerful artist gets jeopardized in this act of subsuming. Many artists in India have happily agreed with the gallerists to represent them but with certain conditions in place. There are many other artists who, without perceiving the hidden dangers fall for the ‘agreements’, which would ultimately ruin them to the maximum.
“What is the problem if an artist gets a good package from a gallerist and his works are taken care of?” was the question thrown at me by an artist friend, when I raised my doubts about the monopolizing of market. With a lot of love he told me that my fears were unfounded. “Ultimately, who is going to think about the promoter? Everyone is going to think about the works of art only. If you have produced a good work of art, that is going to endure,” unflinchingly he stated. “But, wouldn’t it fail the works from getting multiple interpretations?” I asked him. “Why should they?” asked my friend. “They can get multiple interpretations as they are published through catalogues and websites. There are critics and curators who travel to see new works. The works will get their due interpretations.”
Though my friend was sounding so convincing, my doubts lingered on. Recent history shows that the gallerists becoming the sole authorities of the works of art have its tragic sides. Charles Saatchi, the gallery Mogul of Britain had been accused of monopolizing the contemporary British Art by blind buying and selective dumping. In the nineties Saatchi bought the works of the Italian Neo-expressionist Sandro Chia’s works for a whopping price and later on dumped them in the market for lesser price. Saatchi, in one his interviews, explained his position saying that he never bought the works from Sandro Chia. Instead, he bought it from an American collector and when he lost interest in them he decided to dump.
Perhaps, from the league of Clemente, Cucchi, Chia and Mimo Paladino, Chia is the only artist who is now known for his loss in the market place. Saatchi himself has stated that Chia is the artist who would be remembered for being dumped by him. Of late, another artist Peter Blake too has come out against Saatchi for dumping his works in the market. He accused Saatchi of buying some artists completely and dumping them selectively later on only to ruin their careers. In 2004, Saatchi faced criticism for contracting an arsonist to burn down his Momart warehouse in order to get rid of so many art works that he did not fancy any more. Saatchi’s own finding, Damien Hirst himself has said recently that Saatchi is a ‘Shopaholic’ who does not bother about the artists.
Charles Saatchi has countered all these allegations effectively and has stated repeatedly that he buys art for showing off. However, we need to read between lines. Saatchi was instrumental in creating a new art market in Great Britain. He redefined the character of the market by buying out young artists who were working from run down places. He made them international stars. But he did dump many and we do not hear their names any more. Saatchi’s wish to hand over his collection to the Tate Modern was turned down by the director of Tate Modern, Nicholas Serota. And the British newspapers qualify Saatchi as a man with wounded pride.
Do we have a Charles Saatchi in Indian art scene? The grapevine says that there could be one or two who can prove nastier than Saatchi if artists are not careful in their dealings. They can buy out the artists and dump them at their will. It is also said that the feverish speculative drive seen in the Indian music market and auctions comes out of this fear of an imminent dumping of the artists by someone. As a label rep which always stand with artists, I feel that all these would contribute to the maturing of the market. However, I am worried as an observer. What would happen to all those literature made on the dumped artists? What would happen to those works of art, whose history was not written at all? What would happen to those art historians and theoreticians who have gone ga ga over certain works of art? Saved are those art collectors, who did not get a chance to buy those works, which are speculated about highly and monopolized by the gallerists and doomed are those who try to flood the secondary market with the dumped artists, an act of driving in the last nail on the coffin of an artist’s pride.
P.S. 100th blog post
Representation is a complex word that suggests a ‘stand in or stand for’ situation. ‘Someone or something stands for someone or something else implied’ is the idea behind the word ‘representation’. In the context of art, the word ‘representation’ functions as a tool or method that explicates the results of aesthetic production. An artist could represent a thing or an idea using different mediums. Representation in this sense is a contextually defined practice. Linguists say that representation is not a universally accepted concept. On the contrary, it is a polemical suggestion, which could trigger off too many discourses. Art is the supreme place of representation, hence a field of polemics.
What, then, about ‘representing the artist’? How could someone represent the artist? How do we perceive the act of someone who claims to be the representative of the artist? How could this process of accommodating the polemical double representation be understood during a time when art rules the market? Can an artist allow himself to be ruled by the regulations drawn by the so called ‘representatives’? These questions become pertinent especially when we witness the boom in Indian art market refuse to settle, happily for the good of all the players in this market; artists, gallerists, buyers, collectors, secondary market dealers, critics, curators and even the carpenters and courier agencies.
The boom in Indian music live market has created phenomenally funny examples that would be remembered as the flipside of a wonderful change. Gallerists donning the mantle of curators and curators doubling up themselves as art dealers are some of the interesting changes that we have witnessed in the last two years. To make matters a bit grave, now some of the gallerists have started acting as the ‘sole representatives’ of certain artists. Though it is not a new phenomenon, the latest fad of ‘representing the artist’ contains a fair amount of danger in it. Monopolizing the aesthetics by an ‘interest group’ could be the gravest outcome.
A gallery representing an artist, in previous years, was a happy work arrangement. Artists, who did not like to entertain buyers and secondary market hawkers in their studios or stages, had developed cordial and strategic relationship with galleries. It was a time when the market was ‘gallery oriented’. Currently we have an ‘artist oriented’ market. Artists have the freedom to decide the shows they want to participate, choose the galleries they want to work with, put certain demands while agreeing to have solo shows etc. When artists became supremely important for the market, several strategies were developed (by the gallerists) in order to keep the artist in good humor. Buying out and representing are the two resultant strategies, which could prove fatal to a comparatively young art market of India.
‘Representing an artist’, as seen today in India, is a limited and limiting concept. By representing an artist, the gallerist puts an invisible embargo on the concerned artist that binds him from participating in other shows or working with other galleries or curators. Thus by becoming the sole authority of an artist’s creative output, the gallerist can prioritize his buyers and leave many other genuine buyers and art collectors. Then the artist is entertained to the luxurious maximum that makes him even morally and ethically bonded to the gallerist. The freedom enjoyed by the supremely powerful artist gets jeopardized in this act of subsuming. Many artists in India have happily agreed with the gallerists to represent them but with certain conditions in place. There are many other artists who, without perceiving the hidden dangers fall for the ‘agreements’, which would ultimately ruin them to the maximum.
“What is the problem if an artist gets a good package from a gallerist and his works are taken care of?” was the question thrown at me by an artist friend, when I raised my doubts about the monopolizing of market. With a lot of love he told me that my fears were unfounded. “Ultimately, who is going to think about the promoter? Everyone is going to think about the works of art only. If you have produced a good work of art, that is going to endure,” unflinchingly he stated. “But, wouldn’t it fail the works from getting multiple interpretations?” I asked him. “Why should they?” asked my friend. “They can get multiple interpretations as they are published through catalogues and websites. There are critics and curators who travel to see new works. The works will get their due interpretations.”
Though my friend was sounding so convincing, my doubts lingered on. Recent history shows that the gallerists becoming the sole authorities of the works of art have its tragic sides. Charles Saatchi, the gallery Mogul of Britain had been accused of monopolizing the contemporary British Art by blind buying and selective dumping. In the nineties Saatchi bought the works of the Italian Neo-expressionist Sandro Chia’s works for a whopping price and later on dumped them in the market for lesser price. Saatchi, in one his interviews, explained his position saying that he never bought the works from Sandro Chia. Instead, he bought it from an American collector and when he lost interest in them he decided to dump.
Perhaps, from the league of Clemente, Cucchi, Chia and Mimo Paladino, Chia is the only artist who is now known for his loss in the market place. Saatchi himself has stated that Chia is the artist who would be remembered for being dumped by him. Of late, another artist Peter Blake too has come out against Saatchi for dumping his works in the market. He accused Saatchi of buying some artists completely and dumping them selectively later on only to ruin their careers. In 2004, Saatchi faced criticism for contracting an arsonist to burn down his Momart warehouse in order to get rid of so many art works that he did not fancy any more. Saatchi’s own finding, Damien Hirst himself has said recently that Saatchi is a ‘Shopaholic’ who does not bother about the artists.
Charles Saatchi has countered all these allegations effectively and has stated repeatedly that he buys art for showing off. However, we need to read between lines. Saatchi was instrumental in creating a new art market in Great Britain. He redefined the character of the market by buying out young artists who were working from run down places. He made them international stars. But he did dump many and we do not hear their names any more. Saatchi’s wish to hand over his collection to the Tate Modern was turned down by the director of Tate Modern, Nicholas Serota. And the British newspapers qualify Saatchi as a man with wounded pride.
Do we have a Charles Saatchi in Indian art scene? The grapevine says that there could be one or two who can prove nastier than Saatchi if artists are not careful in their dealings. They can buy out the artists and dump them at their will. It is also said that the feverish speculative drive seen in the Indian music market and auctions comes out of this fear of an imminent dumping of the artists by someone. As a label rep which always stand with artists, I feel that all these would contribute to the maturing of the market. However, I am worried as an observer. What would happen to all those literature made on the dumped artists? What would happen to those works of art, whose history was not written at all? What would happen to those art historians and theoreticians who have gone ga ga over certain works of art? Saved are those art collectors, who did not get a chance to buy those works, which are speculated about highly and monopolized by the gallerists and doomed are those who try to flood the secondary market with the dumped artists, an act of driving in the last nail on the coffin of an artist’s pride.
P.S. 100th blog post
Friday, May 13, 2011
Bangalore
I moved to Bangalore nearly 2 and half years ago, to work in a city I dreamt of living in as a teenager. Up until then, I had been a frequent visitor, coming to Bangalore often to spend time with my relatives, or to participate in cricket tournaments. Brigade Road, the Chinnaswamy Stadium, Empire Hotel, Spinn, *insert name of one of the many pubs in the city* - these were the icons that kept pulling me back to the city each time.
2 and half years in the city have given me a better perspective on things, reaching beyond just the icons mentioned above.
I got my first taste of real estate prices and prospects in the city - starting with a 15x10 room in a PG (Rs. 6000 per month) and undergoing some gradual changes to the comfy little two bedroom house (Rs. 25,000 per month).
I also experienced Bangalore during the monsoon for the very first time. Flooded roads were a nightmare, especially as a pedestrian. But fortunately I wasn't one of the thousands who spent their nights pumping water out of their homes, or scooping hundreds of buckets out all through the night. I was also lucky enough not to get swept into an open manhole, be buried alive under a wall that collapsed due to shoddy contractors, or electrocuted because of fallen trees and understaffed BWSSB response teams.
The gloss and glam of Bangalore is for all to see in the massive structures that are UB City, high end *invites only* apartment complexes surrounding the Central Business District. I recently spent two weeks working in an advertising agency on Lavelle Road, and I can honestly say that I saw more BMWs and Audis than I did Maruti Swifts. Not to mention the new Harley Davidson showroom that had me staring every day, or the upcoming Ducati showroom that's got everyone staring even though there's not a single bike in the store yet.
Beneath the gloss and the shiny lights, however, resides the true heart of Bangalore - a multi cultural melting pot of people from other parts of Karnataka and even other parts of India. The heart that takes the bus, takes the auto, takes a humble car to work everyday. The heart that is the power source driving the wheels of Bangalore's IT factories. The heart that comprises a majority of the EIGHTY LAKH people that live in this city.
The recent census report indicates that Bangalore's population has nearly doubled in the last ten years, and the density of population has increased by about 47%. To give you some perspective, 4378 people live in one square kilometre in Bangalore. The second highest is Dakshina Kannada with 416 people per square kilometre. Yet, as Mumbai tries to rise higher and higher above those on the ground, Bangalore is inundated with politicians and babus grabbing vast tracts of land in and around the city while we bribe officials to allot measly plots of land to build the house of our dreams (sharing a common wall with our neighbour). We have witnessed a political merry-go-round in Karnataka. A headless Congress battling a superficial JDS, only to be upstaged by a virgin BJP government headed by a superstitious, greedy man whose only response to allegations of corruption and nepotism is to point out that others have been guilty of the same offence. How different is it from a spoilt ten year old repeating everything you say? "You're a cheater" "YOU'RE a cheater" "You're a liar" "YOU'RE a liar"
One of the reasons why Bangalore's population has risen so significantly is because the increasing number of job opportunities it presents as an IT hub. But do the returns of living here outweigh the costs? 48.8% of urban households have NO drainage facilities. Sewage runs down unobstructed through Bangalore's most posh roads, and yet no one seems disturbed by it. Massive rats the size of my foot infest the city's sewers and streets, and every young man/woman who's been out for a late snack has seen them. The garden city has a huge rat problem, but is anyone paying attention?
Hygiene and sanitation aside, it's the crime rate that's been most worrying. I remember my first summer in Bangalore, and every single day the newspaper carried a story about victims of mugging. I made a mental note once, to make sure that if it ever happened to me, I wouldn't be stupid about it. Little did I know, I'd have to put that note into practice very soon. Walking down a busy Sampige Road in Malleshwaram at 9pm, I was stopped by 4 young men, two armed with knives. One knife was pressed against my tummy, the other against my throat, close enough for me to smell the steel blade. In 30 seconds, I gave them everything I had - my wallet, my watch, my phone. They were nice enough to return my wallet with my college ID and drivers license in it. Then, pressing the tip of the knife a little harder against my throat, they asked me to walk back slowly and not make a noise. I did as told, and today I live to tell that tale. There are thousands of other stories - all you need to do is talk to the Radio City RJ who got her face disfigured for resisting a mugging attempt, or the poor girl who got raped in a cab on her way back from work from Electronic City. These are but a few stories that we remember. The others come and go every single day.
Lets change the mood a bit. Everyone looks forward to life in college, and I was no different. I used to sneak into Spinn as a 16 year old, and leave the club at 2 am, with the party still going full tilt. Taught me how to pace my drinks. To office though, I had to battle bumper to bumper traffic to make my way to the pub/club by 9.30.. just so I'd have two hours to enjoy myself. Today, I have all but given up on the city's nightlife. I cant even remember the last time I went to a club and danced for more than 2 hours. The prospect of having to battle against time to enjoy the city's 'nightlife' and then be herded out by cops two hours later just doesn't enthuse me anymore.
What's worse is having to look for food post 12pm - begging restaurant owners [Exception : Empire Hotel] to serve me whatever they have left, and gulping it all down quickly, because after all, in the eyes of the government and the police, I am a prospective criminal. While people get mugged, raped and killed, Bangalore's finest officers wield their lathis to shut down eateries. The ones that dare stay open beyond 12 (The Chancery has a great midnight buffet) have to deal with constables armed with.. wait for it... video recording cell phones. Yes, fifty people gathered in a hotel, enjoying a hot dinner - evidence must be gathered, and they must be punished for such a heinous crime!!
Infrastructure projects are today's biggest topics for discussion. Flyovers, Magic Box Underpasses, Elevated Expressways, Ring Roads, Metro Rail, Mono Rail - these terms were all foreign to me, but over six years have found a place of permanence in my vocabulary.
Today, as I drive my car on Bangalore's roads, I am joined by 800 new faces every day, each of whom has just registered his new car at the regional transport office. I never leave my windows down, because the sound of incessant honking isn't exactly my soundtrack of choice when I'm at the wheel. I tolerate motorcyclists who swerve left and right, who wedge themselves between the respectable distance I've maintained from the car ahead of me. I tolerate the c*nt honking furiously behind me while I stop to let a woman and her children cross the road. All around me, people in/on their machines seem wound so tight - ready to snap at any moment. Common courtesies to pedestrians are unheard of. Lane discipline is just not part of our culture.
While we marvel at some of the infrastructure that's in place today, we tend to forget that each project was plagued by enormous delays. Raise your hand if you read about the Sadashivnagar Underpass that was promised to be constructed within 3 days, but took over 3 months to make. Our Metro is expected to ease traffic and make lives better for all Bangaloreans, but its now gotten to a point where the authorities have stopped giving new launch dates, having failed already to meet the deadlines on two previous occasions.
These are but a handful of stories I can narrate. I am sure you have many similar stories of your own. Each one highlighting an area that this city desperately needs to address at the earliest. However, as politicians continue to maintain their stranglehold on this city, we continue to look at Bangalore with notions of romanticism. We love the weather, we love the cherry blossoms in the summer, we love the relatively relaxed pace of life as compared to Mumbai and Delhi, we have good beer, we have good music. Peel away the gloss, the romanticism and you'll see a city decaying every single day due to apathy and neglect.
2 and half years on, and I have lived in the city I have always dreamt of. I have shared space here with 80 lakh people, and met many among them who have shaped my life into what it is today. But standing here, at 23, with the rest of my life ahead of me, I ask myself, do I still long to stay here? Is this where I see myself carving a future?
I took a moment to read everything that I've typed above and the odds seem to be stacked heavily in favour of an answer in the negative. Sure the money's here, and the jobs are here, but are they not elsewhere? I long to live in a place where human contact is valued. Where every passerby is noticed. Where a maid, a watchman, a delivery boy, a pedestrian are all treated as fellow humans - with empathy, with respect and with compassion. Where the worth of life is guaged not only by which floor of which apartment of which builder I live in, or how many zeroes are in my monthly pay cheque, but by how much of a positive impact my life has had on someone else's. I long to walk the streets with the same enthusiasm and comfort I did as a child, exploring an entire city on my cycle. I long to cross a road and hug a dear friend, without having to risk my life in doing so. I long to breathe clean air.
We live in times where money is gaining more importance each day. And every day that it becomes more important to us, ironically its value in buying commodities we need diminishes. I used to buy a packet of milk for Rs. 10. Today I pay Rs. 16, an increase of 60%. A litre of petrol costs Rs. 72 now. Remember when it was still back in the forties? What I'm saying is I guess this rant can trace its inspiration from having to deal with adult decisions about finding a job, earning money, paying bills and buying commodities. But at the same time, this phase in my life has forced me to re-assess where I stand in life and where I see myself in ten years. How many years will it take for me to earn enough money to be able to afford a roof over my head in this city that I can call my own? Will I have enough means to support a family? Is this the kind of city I wish to be a part of in the future?
I do not know.
I do. not. know.
What I do know is that life is short, and full of surprises either way. What I do know is that with youth on my side and hopefully a long life ahead of me, I have the luxury of weighing my decisions, and taking my risks. Some people are suited perfectly to do the jobs that this city generates, and in doing so, to morph into its structure and its practices. Some people are destined for other things. Bigger things. The only way we know which one of those we belong to, is to test ourselves.
To those of you thinking these thoughts, you are not alone.
To those who are thinking about making a change, and making a difference, I salute you. Contest an election for your local municipal region, file an RTI application and hold your public servants accountable.
Sounds like too much?
Then lend your voice and your strength to those who are already doing so. Join communities that stand against corruption. Gather momentum to get rid of this ridiculous deadline and show the government it has its priorities wrong. If nothing else, TALK ABOUT IT. Discuss issues with your friends, with strangers, and ignite the thought in their heads. These are all things you and I can do. We can use our education to give back. We are not bound by it. "Gandhi was a lawyer, Jesus was a carpenter, and Buddha was a prince." We forge our own paths, and we watch life unfold.
The human mind has an uncanny ability to scrub clean these thoughts in your head and return to a place fo contentment and comfort. So many times we have been motivated and inspired, only to be brought back to 'reality' later. Here's hoping I have the memory, the strength, the courage and the conviction to test myself. If I fail, if nothing else, I will learn something. If I succeed, I will let you know, so maybe someday, in a land of cynicism and unrest, you will develop the courage to try make a difference.
Till then i'll take solace in the fact that we're still a bit better than Delhi - no one's getting shot over a scraped bumper in Bangalore. Yet.
2 and half years in the city have given me a better perspective on things, reaching beyond just the icons mentioned above.
I got my first taste of real estate prices and prospects in the city - starting with a 15x10 room in a PG (Rs. 6000 per month) and undergoing some gradual changes to the comfy little two bedroom house (Rs. 25,000 per month).
I also experienced Bangalore during the monsoon for the very first time. Flooded roads were a nightmare, especially as a pedestrian. But fortunately I wasn't one of the thousands who spent their nights pumping water out of their homes, or scooping hundreds of buckets out all through the night. I was also lucky enough not to get swept into an open manhole, be buried alive under a wall that collapsed due to shoddy contractors, or electrocuted because of fallen trees and understaffed BWSSB response teams.
The gloss and glam of Bangalore is for all to see in the massive structures that are UB City, high end *invites only* apartment complexes surrounding the Central Business District. I recently spent two weeks working in an advertising agency on Lavelle Road, and I can honestly say that I saw more BMWs and Audis than I did Maruti Swifts. Not to mention the new Harley Davidson showroom that had me staring every day, or the upcoming Ducati showroom that's got everyone staring even though there's not a single bike in the store yet.
Beneath the gloss and the shiny lights, however, resides the true heart of Bangalore - a multi cultural melting pot of people from other parts of Karnataka and even other parts of India. The heart that takes the bus, takes the auto, takes a humble car to work everyday. The heart that is the power source driving the wheels of Bangalore's IT factories. The heart that comprises a majority of the EIGHTY LAKH people that live in this city.
The recent census report indicates that Bangalore's population has nearly doubled in the last ten years, and the density of population has increased by about 47%. To give you some perspective, 4378 people live in one square kilometre in Bangalore. The second highest is Dakshina Kannada with 416 people per square kilometre. Yet, as Mumbai tries to rise higher and higher above those on the ground, Bangalore is inundated with politicians and babus grabbing vast tracts of land in and around the city while we bribe officials to allot measly plots of land to build the house of our dreams (sharing a common wall with our neighbour). We have witnessed a political merry-go-round in Karnataka. A headless Congress battling a superficial JDS, only to be upstaged by a virgin BJP government headed by a superstitious, greedy man whose only response to allegations of corruption and nepotism is to point out that others have been guilty of the same offence. How different is it from a spoilt ten year old repeating everything you say? "You're a cheater" "YOU'RE a cheater" "You're a liar" "YOU'RE a liar"
One of the reasons why Bangalore's population has risen so significantly is because the increasing number of job opportunities it presents as an IT hub. But do the returns of living here outweigh the costs? 48.8% of urban households have NO drainage facilities. Sewage runs down unobstructed through Bangalore's most posh roads, and yet no one seems disturbed by it. Massive rats the size of my foot infest the city's sewers and streets, and every young man/woman who's been out for a late snack has seen them. The garden city has a huge rat problem, but is anyone paying attention?
Hygiene and sanitation aside, it's the crime rate that's been most worrying. I remember my first summer in Bangalore, and every single day the newspaper carried a story about victims of mugging. I made a mental note once, to make sure that if it ever happened to me, I wouldn't be stupid about it. Little did I know, I'd have to put that note into practice very soon. Walking down a busy Sampige Road in Malleshwaram at 9pm, I was stopped by 4 young men, two armed with knives. One knife was pressed against my tummy, the other against my throat, close enough for me to smell the steel blade. In 30 seconds, I gave them everything I had - my wallet, my watch, my phone. They were nice enough to return my wallet with my college ID and drivers license in it. Then, pressing the tip of the knife a little harder against my throat, they asked me to walk back slowly and not make a noise. I did as told, and today I live to tell that tale. There are thousands of other stories - all you need to do is talk to the Radio City RJ who got her face disfigured for resisting a mugging attempt, or the poor girl who got raped in a cab on her way back from work from Electronic City. These are but a few stories that we remember. The others come and go every single day.
Lets change the mood a bit. Everyone looks forward to life in college, and I was no different. I used to sneak into Spinn as a 16 year old, and leave the club at 2 am, with the party still going full tilt. Taught me how to pace my drinks. To office though, I had to battle bumper to bumper traffic to make my way to the pub/club by 9.30.. just so I'd have two hours to enjoy myself. Today, I have all but given up on the city's nightlife. I cant even remember the last time I went to a club and danced for more than 2 hours. The prospect of having to battle against time to enjoy the city's 'nightlife' and then be herded out by cops two hours later just doesn't enthuse me anymore.
What's worse is having to look for food post 12pm - begging restaurant owners [Exception : Empire Hotel] to serve me whatever they have left, and gulping it all down quickly, because after all, in the eyes of the government and the police, I am a prospective criminal. While people get mugged, raped and killed, Bangalore's finest officers wield their lathis to shut down eateries. The ones that dare stay open beyond 12 (The Chancery has a great midnight buffet) have to deal with constables armed with.. wait for it... video recording cell phones. Yes, fifty people gathered in a hotel, enjoying a hot dinner - evidence must be gathered, and they must be punished for such a heinous crime!!
Infrastructure projects are today's biggest topics for discussion. Flyovers, Magic Box Underpasses, Elevated Expressways, Ring Roads, Metro Rail, Mono Rail - these terms were all foreign to me, but over six years have found a place of permanence in my vocabulary.
Today, as I drive my car on Bangalore's roads, I am joined by 800 new faces every day, each of whom has just registered his new car at the regional transport office. I never leave my windows down, because the sound of incessant honking isn't exactly my soundtrack of choice when I'm at the wheel. I tolerate motorcyclists who swerve left and right, who wedge themselves between the respectable distance I've maintained from the car ahead of me. I tolerate the c*nt honking furiously behind me while I stop to let a woman and her children cross the road. All around me, people in/on their machines seem wound so tight - ready to snap at any moment. Common courtesies to pedestrians are unheard of. Lane discipline is just not part of our culture.
While we marvel at some of the infrastructure that's in place today, we tend to forget that each project was plagued by enormous delays. Raise your hand if you read about the Sadashivnagar Underpass that was promised to be constructed within 3 days, but took over 3 months to make. Our Metro is expected to ease traffic and make lives better for all Bangaloreans, but its now gotten to a point where the authorities have stopped giving new launch dates, having failed already to meet the deadlines on two previous occasions.
These are but a handful of stories I can narrate. I am sure you have many similar stories of your own. Each one highlighting an area that this city desperately needs to address at the earliest. However, as politicians continue to maintain their stranglehold on this city, we continue to look at Bangalore with notions of romanticism. We love the weather, we love the cherry blossoms in the summer, we love the relatively relaxed pace of life as compared to Mumbai and Delhi, we have good beer, we have good music. Peel away the gloss, the romanticism and you'll see a city decaying every single day due to apathy and neglect.
2 and half years on, and I have lived in the city I have always dreamt of. I have shared space here with 80 lakh people, and met many among them who have shaped my life into what it is today. But standing here, at 23, with the rest of my life ahead of me, I ask myself, do I still long to stay here? Is this where I see myself carving a future?
I took a moment to read everything that I've typed above and the odds seem to be stacked heavily in favour of an answer in the negative. Sure the money's here, and the jobs are here, but are they not elsewhere? I long to live in a place where human contact is valued. Where every passerby is noticed. Where a maid, a watchman, a delivery boy, a pedestrian are all treated as fellow humans - with empathy, with respect and with compassion. Where the worth of life is guaged not only by which floor of which apartment of which builder I live in, or how many zeroes are in my monthly pay cheque, but by how much of a positive impact my life has had on someone else's. I long to walk the streets with the same enthusiasm and comfort I did as a child, exploring an entire city on my cycle. I long to cross a road and hug a dear friend, without having to risk my life in doing so. I long to breathe clean air.
We live in times where money is gaining more importance each day. And every day that it becomes more important to us, ironically its value in buying commodities we need diminishes. I used to buy a packet of milk for Rs. 10. Today I pay Rs. 16, an increase of 60%. A litre of petrol costs Rs. 72 now. Remember when it was still back in the forties? What I'm saying is I guess this rant can trace its inspiration from having to deal with adult decisions about finding a job, earning money, paying bills and buying commodities. But at the same time, this phase in my life has forced me to re-assess where I stand in life and where I see myself in ten years. How many years will it take for me to earn enough money to be able to afford a roof over my head in this city that I can call my own? Will I have enough means to support a family? Is this the kind of city I wish to be a part of in the future?
I do not know.
I do. not. know.
What I do know is that life is short, and full of surprises either way. What I do know is that with youth on my side and hopefully a long life ahead of me, I have the luxury of weighing my decisions, and taking my risks. Some people are suited perfectly to do the jobs that this city generates, and in doing so, to morph into its structure and its practices. Some people are destined for other things. Bigger things. The only way we know which one of those we belong to, is to test ourselves.
To those of you thinking these thoughts, you are not alone.
To those who are thinking about making a change, and making a difference, I salute you. Contest an election for your local municipal region, file an RTI application and hold your public servants accountable.
Sounds like too much?
Then lend your voice and your strength to those who are already doing so. Join communities that stand against corruption. Gather momentum to get rid of this ridiculous deadline and show the government it has its priorities wrong. If nothing else, TALK ABOUT IT. Discuss issues with your friends, with strangers, and ignite the thought in their heads. These are all things you and I can do. We can use our education to give back. We are not bound by it. "Gandhi was a lawyer, Jesus was a carpenter, and Buddha was a prince." We forge our own paths, and we watch life unfold.
The human mind has an uncanny ability to scrub clean these thoughts in your head and return to a place fo contentment and comfort. So many times we have been motivated and inspired, only to be brought back to 'reality' later. Here's hoping I have the memory, the strength, the courage and the conviction to test myself. If I fail, if nothing else, I will learn something. If I succeed, I will let you know, so maybe someday, in a land of cynicism and unrest, you will develop the courage to try make a difference.
Till then i'll take solace in the fact that we're still a bit better than Delhi - no one's getting shot over a scraped bumper in Bangalore. Yet.
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