An accident on the streets of Bangalore

Here is something that I have been wanting to pen for almost two years now. It is an incident that happened to yours truly about two years back. Those were the days when my better half used to travel around, having just turned a consultant. She was to travel on a one month official trip to Malaysia. Those were the days when the Airport in Bangalore was still at HAL and the BBMP had just started the loop that goes from Airport Road to 100 ft road and had shut down the U-turn at Manipal Hospital. So to take a U-turn to go to the Airport, one had to go to Domlur or take the new loop and take a U-turn on 100 ft road. All this will be Greek and Latin for people unfamiliar with Bangalore, so relax, this portion is not relevant to the story that I am about to describe. As is the case with most international flights originating from India, my wife's flight was to take off late in the night like 12:30 am or so and she had to be there at the airport by 9:00. We started from home about 8:30pm. Our car was about 6-8 months old then and I was still a very polite driver, having done most of my car-driving in Western countries. But then, I was beginning to gain in confidence about my driving and I must say this; when your confidence starts turning to complacence, Bangalore traffic has this strange knack of getting back at you thru' atleast some small inevitable incident.

Anyways, since we were not going to see each other for the next month or so, both of us were in a rather sombre and melancholic mood. My illustrious father-in-law's CD was playing on the stereo and we gamely reached the U-turn beneath the new flyover without any untoward incident. Just as I was negotiating the U-turn, there was a big thud “DHADAM” and before the two of us could realize anything, the traffic police was standing beside our car, directing people to put two people in our car. It was at that time that we realized that had been part of an accident and two fellas had hit our back left-side passenger door with their rather innocuous looking TVS-50, which for beginners is a bike/moped that might no longer even be sold in the country. I tried to reason with the policeman that I needed to drop my wife to the airport and that she would be late. So the policeman showed some consideration and helped my wife with her luggage and helped her get an auto-rickshaw. He asked me take the two fellas in my car to CMH Hospital and said that he will follow me to the hospital with his superior. Even in that small duration of time, there was a person who gave me a piece of his mind, saying, I should be careful and that it was my mistake.

So, I very obediently started driving those two gentlemen to CMH hospital. As I was driving past the accident spot, I saw a glimpse of the badly mangled TVS-50, realizing the severity of the impact and began imagining the extent of damage to my car, but had still not seen what had actually happened. Meanwhile, in the car, the two fellas were not utterring a word and the entire car with the empty passenger seat beside me, was engulfed in an eerie silence. All kinds of thoughts were now passing thru' my mind. “Had I injured the people at the back greviously?”, “ What will the police say?”. All this while, the stereo was still very much playing Hindustani Classical Music (to enable readers to put two and two together, my father-in-law is a renowned Hindustani Classical vocalist). Now, my father-in-law is blessed with a melliflous voice and the CD that was playing, is one of my favorite Cds. But then in that situation, it felt as if the stereo was blaring at me. So I just turned down the volume. 100 ft road to CMH Hospital is not a very long distance, but on that day with almost no sound in the car and two apparently injured fellows in my car, the distance seemed endless.

After that short, but seemingly never-ending drive, we finally reached CMH Hospital.

During this time, I did not have the courage to even look back at what kind of people were in my car. Having reached the hospital, I had to literally wake the two fellas from their slumber and it was at that time that it dawned on me that both of them were drunk. As they got out of the car, I realized that the one person was an oldish kind of guy, while the other one was a middle aged guy. I got out of the car and for the first time gauged the damage on my car. The left-side backdoor had been beaten badly out of shape. I then took our two gentlemen to the emergency ward. Apparently, the oldish guy was hurt more than the middle-aged guy and was going to need and X-ray and stitches. The doc/paramedic asked me to pay up for the oldish guy, for which I needed to know his name, so that I could make a case-paper. So I asked the middle-aged fella for his mate's name, but this fellow, drunk that he was, told me his own name and age (42) and I religiously conveyed it to the guy at the payment desk and gave the case-paper to the X-ray facility. The oldish guy was then wheeled in for an X-ray of the right leg. I was standing at the door of the X-ray room and I heard the doctor performing the X-Ray, calling up his collegue in emergency, “ Sir, patient is saying he has pain in the left leg, but you have mentioned X-ray of the right leg?”. The doctor in the emergency told him to do X-Ray of both legs. I was thus asked to cough up more money for another X-Ray, at which time, the doctor told me that this guy looks more than 42, thats when I realized I had messed up the names. X-ray was done, with the doctor saying that there is no fracture and that the guy was fine except for the stitched.

All this while, my wife had reached the airport and she called me up to find out what was up, frantically worried if I was ok. I told her I was fine and that the police would come soon.

In the meanwhile the middle-aged guy had called up some folks to the hospital. They met me and started entreating me, not to complain with the police and to actually pay these folks since they are poor. I told them I could not pay, since I had done nothing wrong, it was they who had hit my car and I was already paying for their first-aid. I wish I could speak Kannada for I would have been better able to convey the message across. The police-man at the accident spot arrived. He talked to the middle-aged guy. In their classical way of smelling a man's breath (pretty gross I must say), he figured out the guy was in an inebriated state. This policeman was followed soon enough by his superior. Mr Superior, got an eye-witness account from his junior. I requested, Mr Superior for an FIR, so that I can file an insurance claim (the highly damaged door was beginning to get into my consciousness). Mr Superior, called his Superior “Super-Superior”, telling him what had happened in Kannada. I could make out a few sentences here and there “ TVS 50 reckless aayta”, “TVS-50 Wagon R (my car) guddaiade”, which I made out to be collided. Superior told me “ Sir, Super-Superior has rejected your demand for an FIR, since I will have to confiscate your vehicle and then, only after the RTO inspection can I release it”. Being new to an accident situation myself, I did not force the issue, but I was beginning to see a huge repair bill in front of me. Then, the police-men gave our two protagonists, the perpetrators of the crime of having hit my new car, a piece of their mind, which I did'nt quite follow, since it was all Kannada. Then, they informed me that our drunken fellows will be charged a princely sum of Rupees 50 as fine for “reckless driving”. Having reliazed that I was in no danger, I was about to laugh at this miserable little joke, but was just able to give a sly smile. I guess the policeman understood the feeling behind the smile and said, “ What to do sir, reckless driving for 50 cc vehicle is only 50 Rs fine!!”. So then, midddle-aged fella and our elderly fellas in their inebriated state were asked to cough up a fine of 50Rs, which their by now accululated friends, the friends who were trying to convince me to not complain, got out of thier pockets and these fellas were taken away in a Maruti Omni. I still wonder where the Omni came from. Anyways, just before going away, our middle-aged fellow, fell a touch of remorse and he came upto me in his drunken state, smiled awkwardly and said “Thank You Saar”.

That left only yours truly, the policeman at ground zero and Mr Superior outside the hospital. Mr Superior is proudly telling me, “ Sir, I am not going to lodge any complaint against you. You can go sir, but before going, if you are interested, please pay the constable.”

I politely told him, that I had done nothing wrong and had infact paid the medical bills on humanitarian grounds. He did not insist and so I left the scene with my car door all in bad shape, having coughed up Rs 600 all for no good reason. But what left me most disturbed was the guts the policeman had in asking for a bribe, inspite of I having done nothing that was actually wrong, while those two people were actually drunk and all they were asked to pay was Rs 50. (I agree they would not have had even that, but still............)

William Dalrymple and his works

Another author who has managed to hold my attention is William Dalrymple. I have read quite a few of his books. Chief among them being "The Last Mughal", "The White Mughals", "The Age of Kali" and "The City of Djinns"

I believe when it comes to History and travel-related writing no one can beat him. He virtually brings to life the era or the place he is writing about, and demonstrates immense intrepidity when it comes talking to the most unusual people that are generally a part of his book.

In my opinion, Dalrymple is a great fan of the syncretic Indo-Islamic culture that dominated much of Northern India, and met its end in the unfortunate Partition of the sub-continent. The author has spent considerable time in the India and gives an unbiased and objective account of events, which makes it all the more worth-while to read his works

"The City of Djinns" is an ode to the great city of Delhi thru' the ages. Dalrymple literally peels off various layers of the history of the City, while visiting many of the remnants of the various ages that the city has seen. Meeting a range of people from calligraphers to eunuchs to Anglo-Indians to the current descendants of the Mughal dynasty, he traverses the city, while describing the historical significance of some of monuments that are now in a rather sad state of affairs. He analyzes the architecture of the places he visits and puts them in perspective with the social condition of that era. He describes the politics and the debauchery of the Mughal court and the adventures of some of the early Brits, who started feeling more comfortable in their new surroundings than amongst fellow Brits. All in all, he takes the reader on a fascinating journey thru' the streets of Delhi transporting him to the age when those streets dazzled in their glory.

While "The City of Djinns" is about a specific city, in "The Age of Kali", Dalrymple makes the entire sub-continent his stage and writes a travelogue par excellence. Travelling from the north to the south and then to Pakistan and Sri-Lanka, he meets up with people some of us would dread to meet. From Laloo Yadav, the much-tainted, but still much admired former Chief Minister of Bihar and the Rajmata of Gwalior to Bahveri Devi, an unfortunate victim of gang-rape, the array of people he meets is mind-boggling. He talks to folks who witnessed the Sati of Deorala and in his classic unbiased way, juxtaposes the New Age India of the Software engineer with the Bharat of Caste wars and Sati. Just like "The City of Djinns", this one too makes heady reading.

While the "The City of Djinns" and "The Age of Kali" are essentially travelogues, "White Mughals" and "The Last Mughal" are works of history. "White Mughals" is set in the late eighteenth century Hyderabad, where the British Resident in the court of the Nizam, James Kirk patrick, falls in love Khair-un-Nissa, the great niece of the Nizam's Prime Minister and ended up marrying her and fathering two kids, despite the many obstacles, including the fact that she was almost always in Purdah. It is an absorbing tale that leaves you slightly sad in the end, since the story does not quite end on a happy note. But what stands out again, is Dalrymple's love for composite cultures, in this case the inter-mingling of the British and the Islamic culture of Hyderabad.

"The Last Mughal" is an almost day-by-day account of the 1857 mutiny or the first struggle for Indian Independence, whichever way you may want to call it. Dalrymple renews his love-story with Delhi, describing very objectively the happenings around a water-shed event during the British rule of India. He describes how the Last Mughal was a reluctant Emperor on whom the responsibility of leading a war was almost thrust upon by the rebel soldiers, how the residents of Delhi itself wanted to be no party to the war and how the Indian soldiers were so close to victory, but did not force the issue, simply due to lack of intelligence. Its a book you want to finish in one shot. Dalrymple once again brings to life the streets of Delhi during the Mutiny and makes one wonder , "Why don't they teach History like this at school?" In short, extremely compelling reading.

One wishes Dalrymple a long career in writing and wish History were taught like this at our schools.

Amitav Ghosh's works

I have been reading this book called "In an Antique Land" by Amitav Ghosh and am slowly but steadily getting sucked into the book. To be frank it is but expected of Ghosh. I have read quite a few of his works and stand deeply impressed. Be it "The Hungry Tide", "The Sea of Poppies", "The Calcutta Chromosome" or the current book, I am just amazed by his story-telling abilities.

He has covered quite an array of topics, from malaria in "The Calcutta Chromosome" to dolphins in "The Hungry Tide" to Egypt and Egyptology in "In an Antique Land". These topics are so deeply researched that one starts to imagine that Ghosh is an authority on all of them. But what stands out is his ability to weave together at least three different story-lines, sometimes across three different time-lines. His characters are earthly and real and he does not miss a tryst with the mystical in most of his books. His ability to bring to life the history of the place in which the novel is set in, is simply mind-boggling.

I believe he is the recipient of numerous Awards including the Padmashri in 2007 by the Indian Government. His "Sea of Poppies", which was the first book I read written by Ghosh, was short-listed for the Booker Prize for 2008. This prize eventually went to "The White Tiger" by another Indian author Aravind Adiga. In my opiniion and I dont intend to start a controversy here, the choice of the "The White Tiger" over "The Sea of Poppies" was baffling to say the least. While "Sea of Poppies" is a fabulous tale of hope set just before the Opium Wars on a diverse set of characters sailing on a ship to Mauritius, "The White Tiger" is a very dark tale, a realistic tale, but a very dark tale that leaves you slightly shattered at the end of it. But that can be a debating point and I dont intend to start one here.

I look forward to more works by Ghosh and wish I am one day able to write like him.

About Blogging

So finally I did join the band of netizens who blog. What took me so long and why did I start at all?

Lets delve on the second question first.

Well, I used to write quite a bit once upon a time. I still remember one of my teachers telling me that I wrote well. Then, there is my better half who keeps reminding me of some my early emails to her. I say early because, only in those early days, was the size of those emails considerable and the subject matter interesting and romantic. I must say the romance stayed, but the emails got shorter as we got to know each other better. I also used to write a diary although infrequently. So cutting the long story short, there are people who tell me I have a flair for writing and I think its time to unveil some of this flair to the big bad world of the Internet.

Now to that first question, what took me so long, the answer to that is plain and simple, good old procrastination and lethargy.

Anyways, what am I going to blog on?

As the name says, wherever my mind wanders. So one day it will be on some technology that I am working on or reading about, another day it could be on Music, on which I am putting some of my energies these days, or it could just be anything that I feel like on that particular day, such as a trip we undertook on a particular weekend or even my wife's culinary experiments.

I hope to make it interesting and I look forward to any feedback.