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Everyone in Bangalore knows that the site business is the most valuable business ever. Around every corner, in every little ‘Darshini‘ , you would hear talk of BBMP (which, to give it its full exalted name is the Brihan Bengaluru Mahanagar Palike. Keep your ears open, and all you will hear is of the engineers there, and of the best way to get something sanctioned. And, indeed, in a popular Basavangudi restaurant, the management had put up a board requesting patrons to refrain from site-talk, but, of course no one cared, and over a “by-two” coffee or two, deals were discussed for hours on end.

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He climbed up the rock easily. After all, he was still young and fit, so this was no surprise. From the top of the rock in Lalbagh, you can see quite a distance. You could, if your eyes were good enough, even spot the Vidhana Soudha.  But there were lots of high-rise buildings too, and you had to squint and strain your eyes a bit to see that landmark. This walk to the park and breakfast thereafter at MTR was the highlight of his day.

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Flash Mob

If you enter Lalbagh through the Siddapura gate and walk straight ahead, ignoring the path to the left that leads to the lake, you will reach a roundabout, and the right you will see a little building perched atop a flight of steps. The building was perhaps fifty years old, and definitely showed its age. It had been years since any lick of paint had found its way to its walls. The building still stood, however, and the walls served as a prop for people venturing out to experiment with the Shirishasana. And the steps that led up to the hall served as a convenient stop-over for people who had done with their morning perambulations and were now set for their gossip sessions.

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“When things went awry…”

Vishwa’s dreams were intense,  and colourful, not in black-and-white. But when things went awry in his dreams, he invariably woke up, even if it was only 3 o ‘clock in the morning. The things that happened in his dreams! Sometimes it would be a train that he had missed, or an exam that he hadn’t studied for, or forgotten about, or a walk down a steep, dark flight of stairs that seemed to lead nowhere…

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The Chanter

If you enter Lalbagh from the West gate – the gate that opens out onto National College and the Basavangadi area – and walk straight, past the roundabout and the fossil thats on display, you get to the clump of bamboos, which once housed a troop of monkeys. To the right is the steep flight of worn stone steps  that leads up to the lake, and to the left is the road that goes on to the rose-garden. Keep walking straight-not turning to the left nor climbing up the steps to the lake, and you will hit a steep incline which leads up to the children’s’ maze.

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If you were walking in Lalbagh in early September, on a Saturday  morning, you would have spotted a bunch of people congregate around the roundabout just inside Lalbagh, near the West Gate of the park. Not surprising you might say -people gather around all the time in Lalbagh. But this group was different- all of them were dressed identically, which is to say that all of them wore the same T-shirt – bearing the proud name ‘EXITE Technologies – , and used the same brand of shoes, and all of them had their smart watches strapped on. There were perhaps about ten of them, and they seemed to be  waiting for someone. 

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Two old friends were regulars at Lalbagh, one of them a historian, the other an economist. Both of them had graduated from St. Stephen’s in Delhi in the 60’s and had kept their friendship going for many years. The historian had achieved fame of sorts, having published several books, including some that won awards. The economist hadn’t done too badly either, having worked with governments in various parts of the world.

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The incident at the Falls

If you have been to Lalbagh recently, and walked by the lake, you would have noticed some structures towards the Siddapura end- a pump house for the Lalbagh Falls.Of course, the falls aren’t always visible – everything depends on the individual who decides to turn on the switches, and the Electricity Board plays its part, too. But if you are lucky , you might get to see the water falling into the little pool that abuts the big lake.

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Fountain View

There are many fountains in Lalbagh, Some of which actually work, sometimes, for sometime. Although Venkat had been a Lalbagh walker for many years, and at different times of the day, never had he seen all of them in action simultaneously. But today, as he walked slowly towards the Glass House – he was coming in from the MTR gate, and there’s a bit of an a slope, and he was getting on in years, so it was natural that he walked slowly. Anyway, as Venkat Rao crested the slope, he saw to his delight, that the fountain opposite the Glass House was actually working. I will sit down on one of the benches around the fountain and watch this play of water for some time, he thought.

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The Gods within

If you walk down from the Glass House towards the Band-stand, and then turn left, you are on your way to the Rose Garden, which will appear just after a small roundabout, on your left. If you turn right there, you can walk along a path, rimmed with palms. Look left, and you will see a gazebo, somewhat like the band-stand, and you will also notice, if you come early enough in the morning, a motley group of women, chanting loudly. If you had come a little earlier, before the chanting began, you would have heard the same group of women laughing loudly, raising their arms skywards, and formed into a nice little circle.

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By the Lotus Pond

If you enter Lalbagh from the Siddapura gate, and take the tarred road down to the left you will get to the lakes. You could also take the new path directly after entering the gate. But most older people prefer the road. You walk down, past the tree that is worshipped on the right, past the  little maze that has been put up for children, and keep going downhill for a few steps more. 

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The Money Bags

Satish was a reporter for a Kannada paper. Not really a reporter, just a stringer who occasionally filed a story. So, it was with great interest that he heard the group of three people walking ahead of him in Lalbagh, talking politics. And their conversation was not about global politics, but rather of low-level, grass-root stuff, which would definitely be of interest to his readers. There had been elections held recently – not the great All-India election, but the lowly one for the Bengaluru Corporation.

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The Nandi at the Glass House

Bala, short, stout and friendly, was at it again. The group of old friends sitting on a bench near the Glass House were used to Bala’s enthusiasms. Today, he was going on and on about the virtues of eating bananas. “Do you know?”, he said, “bananas have calcium and magnesium, and that’s why it’s important to eat the fruit everyday?” “And”, he continued,” do you know what’s the best time to eat them?”. 

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Rama Sastry

Lalbagh was crowded, as always, in the morning. The sun had barely risen but enthusiastic walkers and joggers made it difficult for Rama Sastry to walk in his usual leisurely fashion. Nor could he hear the birds, which was a troublesome thing, for that was what he loved most about his mornings. Everyone seemed to be plugged in to something or the other. Some were considerate enough to use earphones but there were many who didn’t care . So, you could hear, within the space of a dozen or so steps-Lata Mangeshkar, Ghulam Ali and the Beatles, in varying degrees of loudness . But Rama Sastry needed his exercise, so there was nothing that he could do to avoid the cacophony. Sometimes he sat on one of those benches still left on the embankment of the lake-and thought about how it had been in the old days. No Transistor radios, no Walkmans, no mobile phones -the park had been really wonderful then. 

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Siddha-magic at Lalbagh

The Siddha’s costume was spectacular- there was a dark green coat, much patched, a huge silver pendant with a strange design that he hung around his neck, along with strings of heads, and a gorgeous turban. How could you not notice him? He was at the top of the rock, in Lalbagh, from where you could get a splendid view of Bangalore if the weather was right. And seated beside him, in the manner of a deferential devotee was a middle-aged man, dressed in  a sparkling white dhoti, and a kurta of silk, and with a gold necklace round his neck.The park wasn’t too crowded – it was early in the morning, perhaps around 5:30, and there were few people atop the rock. But the few that were had their eyes constantly on this pair.

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The Stock Market man

He strode across the lawn in the park. completely oblivious to the boards that read “Do not walk on the grass ” . He was a tall man, with a tooth-brush moustache, and he wore a beret, too. And his shoes! they were bright red in colour. But all this was not what made him interesting. The really stand-out thing about him was that he was constantly speaking, loudly, so loudly, in fact, that everyone stopped whatever they were listening to on their phones, and looked at him in surprise. He didn’t seem to be” wearing”a phone, no headphones were visible, and he was extremely loud, and all that he seemed to be talking about, to his invisible companion, was the stock-market, about how he had made a killing the other day, and about how he had missed a great opportunity once, and about how he had lost money, too. All this, and more, in a single breath! He didn’t miss a stride, and he clearly did not seem to care that people were staring at him. 

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Tantra in the park

Lingaiah was a thoughtful person, with an analytical bent of mind. Today, as he entered Lalbagh, he was thinking of the people who walked in the park with bags in their hands. Why did they burden themselves with these bags, when they could walk freely? After all, they had come to the park to walk, not to buy stuff.  Then, as he continued to think about this, he realized that maybe people did buy stuff, after all – fruits and vegetables, mostly – from the HOPCOMS shop in the park. And then, there were the feeders, too, and this set was the interesting one he thought, as he discovered that he could categorise them into at least four different groups.

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Walking Backwards

Ever since Ramah – that’s how I spell my name, he had said, saying that he had followed a numerologist’s suggestion and that it had worked wonders for him-  had convinced him about the merits of walking backwards, Narayan had been doing this. Ramah was a doctor of sorts, or so he claimed.  It was difficult to tell if he spoke the truth.

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The class is over

His daughter had made a fuss this morning.”Why do you want to go to Lalbagh now? Just a few days more for you here and then you’re back to America.” . But Krishnakumar  had insisted and finally, she put him on an auto to Lalbagh. His daughter lived in Cox Town, so it took quite a while for him to get to Lalbagh. He got off at the Double Road gate and decided to walk up to the Glass House. 

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The Lalbagh Ghost

Siddayya was a gardener in the park. He had done the short-term course conducted for gardeners in the little campus that abutted Lalbagh. You can see the entrance into thecampus if you walk by the lake. He was a lucky chap, for he was of the right caste and age,and he could read and write, and with a little nudge from an uncle who once used to workin the park, getting the job was not a problem.

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“Loll-Bagh”

He was done with Lalbagh for good. Not that he wanted this to happen, but the doctor had told him to cut down on his exercise, and that meant giving up his daily morning walk in the park. After all, he was now into his eighties, and sometime or the other he was bound to call it a day. And now, he was done with breakfast as well – a couple of idlis with chutney, and then a cup of coffee, and all those medicines to swallow, and then that was done.