The Diary Of Charles P. Chinnappa, Bengaluru 2071

The BUG program is maybe the stupidest municipal program in existence, so it makes sense that Bengaluru is where it all began. Bad luck follows this city like a faithful dog, people say. In fact, if dogs could understand metaphor, Bengaluru would be the greatest place on earth to train them. Maybe that’s a meta-metaphor in itself. Anyway, to continue- The BUG program is the stupidest municipal program in existence. It makes the city’s leaders even more money than they were already making, if such a thing is even possible. It conned the city’s population into thinking it still had a say in matters of policy, social and public welfare; something it realised precisely one week after voting it into existence. And it cannot be got rid of without a level of effort people simply cannot be bothered to make these days. I can see extreme tiredness and apathy in the serpentine queues at each terminal. Wordlessly, I take my place in the line for counter 5F. I figure I will find out what we’re voti...

City centres and central districts are often the last ones to die away – like that one leaf on a withered tree that refuses to give up or that one frayed wire on an old appliance that supplies current, fighting against the odds (and the silly rules of health and safety.) As I walk down MG Road, Church street and Brigade road, however, I can’t help but feel that Bengaluru seems to be collapsing from its centre, both culturally and geographically. In a way, it is almost poetic; the thing that defined this city’s conflicting identities, its metaphorical captain, is the first one to desert it as soon as the proverbial ship starts sinking. The sun has just set. I am in a sizeable crowd of people, but something is off. It takes a moment to figure out what it is – it is close to dead silent. There is no sound other than the shuffling of tens of thousands of footsteps. Maybe the odd ambulance too, far away in the distance. No one is looking at the neon lights covering up the dilapidated b...

  The rich, ultra-conservative outlook of those who come from old money (generational wealth) is something that will never change over the decades, or even centuries. As I walk down the green, leafy avenue of the Enclave’s main thoroughfare, I marvel at how little seems to have changed since I was a young man. Besides the obvious, of course; the JHE is easily one of the most cutting-edge parts of the city. Short-range flying vehicles are parked and charging in driveways because the people who live here probably fly over to the darshini for breakfast and then fly back home twice as fast because filter coffee is quite the laxative. Beautifully ornate lampshades hide a veritable cornucopia of sensors, cameras and street surveillance tech. I am walking on a pavement of translucent material that covers a long, unending ribbon of solar panels. The JHE was even the first area in the country to introduce microclimate control and outdoor air-conditioning. But, even with all this, the pla...