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PROJECT OVERVIEW

Author’s Note: Ever since we started to settle in groups at fixed locations aeons ago, the concept of the ‘city’ has been the single greatest social, economic, cultural and evolutionary device humanity has ever ‘invented’. To enumerate even a fraction of everything that has come from the unique micro-planet that is the urban space would be an impossible undertaking, of course; the intellectual would call it a centre of thought, the practical would call it a centre of work, the academic would call it a centre of learning, the artist would call it the centre of culture, and the pious would call it a blessing. One would assume then, and rightly so, that the city is an eternal construct; where everything is born, always using itself to go further, make more, think more, evolve. However, this is not always the case. Sometimes, cities stop growing. They lose their ambition, the previously eager and youthful spark in their eyes dulls with weariness, they sit down to ‘take a break’ and never s...
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Tales From The Food District (12°58'40.33"N, 77°38'27.35"E)

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Publisher’s Note: This entry is not a part of Dr. Chinnappa’s notes. During the writing of this diary, he held a month-long short-story writing contest for the general public. The topic given was “real-life accounts of personal experiences in the Food District of East Bengaluru (‘Indiranagar’, N-202x).” Many winning entries were chosen and turned into a series that is included, in full, in the reader’s edition of ‘Before The World Ends: Bengaluru – India’s Problem Child.’ However, the publisher has chosen to include a few selected stories at certain points within this diary so as to provide a variety in writing style and presentation – “through a resident’s eyes.” The following short story did not win the contest. All entries were submitted anonymously. Title: ‘What Would You Like To Order Today?’ My cousin has always been a pain to eat as restaurants with. They are one of those people that never, and I mean never , makes up their mind about what they want to eat. You know, like- “I’m...
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Nagasandra Gate (13° 2'55.98"N, 77°29'48.69"E)

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  “Welcome To Bengaluru” says the faded text on the rusty sign that spans the road; on the other side it just has directions to the surrounding towns and villages. Today, those towns and villages have long since been swallowed by the city; one would actually enter Bengaluru’s city limits about fifty kilometres further up the road. Considering how much of the population is now gone, I wonder if it’s possible for a city to... contract? Uncouple from all the settlements it previously ate up, letting them be independent places and communities once more? This ‘gate’ is now a ramshackle old thing, but it was built to greet visitors travelling in from the north-western parts of India on NH (National Highway) forty-eight. Many new forms of transport come and go. Some stay. But the fact remains that roads are still by far the most common way to move people and goods around this country; between its rural heart and soul and its urban machinery. It has been this way for civilisations and mil...
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The Old Ways, They Will Not Die (12°56'19.77"N, 77°34'15.57"E)

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  There is a Kannada song from the thirties that is still sung by a few people ironically. It was meant to be a paean to Bengaluru’s charm, old-world ways, and evergreen nature. The campaign for its release featured a look at everything that had endured over the years – gardens, dancing, old songs, old buildings, you know the drill. The moment it released, everyone sang it as a sarcastic reminder of the how the city would never develop or grow or change for the better. That is still how they remember it today. There was an English translation of this song called ‘Forever Bengaluru’, and its chorus goes like this. The old ways, they will not die We shall keep our flag flying high Now Bengaluru, forever Bengaluru The old ways, they will not die. The famous modern urbanist Mathieu le B âtiment opines , “For true growth, a city must move as one; all its organs changing at the same time, accepting the new.” As I walk around Basavanagudi, one of the older parts of town and where I w...
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The Forum Museum (12°56'2.69"N, 77°36'39.36"E)

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  One thing I really miss seeing at the mall is old people taking their first ever step onto the escalator. In a small way, it used to be a testament to the ability of the human spirit to survive. Human beings in the twilight of their lives, in a world they scarcely recognise from their youth, still able to get over their fears and come to terms with the fact that the ground is moving beneath their feet; this is always an endearing sight. Their kids or grandkids would always record the moment for posterity, and no matter what, the old person would eventually take that one step. I would always imagine going down is a bit scarier than going up, right? Ah- who am I kidding, reminiscing in this manner? Nobody knows what I’m talking about. I guess that’s a common theme in my life now; my generation are today’s grandparents, and escalators were as common as water purifiers when we were growing up. That world, the one in which they were ever unfamiliar to anyone; that world is gone. Of co...
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Market District (12°58'1.59"N, 77°34'27.93"E)

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The labyrinthine streets and dizzyingly chaotic shops of Bengaluru’s commercial zone (or ‘market district’ as they call it now) has not changed in atmosphere or energy one bit since I last went as a young working professional, searching every square inch of every store for the best deal. And when I went in my youth, it had not changed in decades; even back then in the 2010s. This has always been the centre of goods in this great city – whatever you need, you would find. A hundred plates for your niece’s tenth birthday party? Packaging for ten thousand textbooks? Ten thousand textbooks? It’s 2071 and most people have payment chips in their hands now. Some even have automatic debits whenever they walk out of a store with whatever they’ve purchased. But the market district operates mostly on cash. Yes, you read that right; paper money. You must understand, then, that I am walking through one of the last bastions of old-school physical capitalism. Cash-in-hand. I have no cash, and I can’t...
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HAL Droneport (12°57'16.49"N, 77°40'48.16"E)

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  The Bengaluru droneport is, according to every single person I’ve spoken about it to, the only public service in the city’s urban sprawl that works as intended, which is to say – excellently. People’s eyes light up with pride every time I even mention it in passing; much like my own would in my youth when I heard my dad’s friends and visitors talk about the city’s old bars and gardens and lakes and impossibly green avenues. Even though that stuff is long gone now, I can still relate to the smiles that cross everyone’s faces as I walk through this huge facility. With time, I develop one of my own and start beaming too. This place is absolutely incredible! Until relatively recently, the concept of public drones was perhaps more alien to Bengaluru than actual aliens. This was for good and obvious reasons – the huge tracts of army-controlled land spread around the city for more than two centuries have always made the idea of open public airspace an impossibility. In fact, the drone...
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Novina Daari – Stage 1 (12°52'54.79"N, 77°35'46.82"E)

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  It is commonly said by those who do not know better that the first stage of the Novina Daari has got a lot easier over the years; this time around, the organisers (most probably out of spite) have started the event with a particularly tricky section. I curse myself for not checking the route markers and local weather forecast as I wait at the start line, nervously checking if my participant’s bib is stuck on properly. Finishing the entire thing is a statistical impossibility at my age, but I am determined to try. The ND is by far the most difficult, gruelling endurance pedestrianism race on planet Earth; a three-week, 320-kilometre traversal of Bengaluru on foot. With danger at every intersection, hundreds of technically demanding sections requiring extreme caution, and held in the middle of the monsoons, the race’s completion rate is low. Last year, only half the total number of participants staggered across the finish line; an overflowing drain on day eight had wiped out over ...
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