Kannada vs Tamil, English vs Hindi

Ever spoken in Kannada when asking for a film ticket in one of the theatres in Bangalore's M G Road area? If you have, you might have experienced what I did; a slight sense of embarrassment resulting in an immediate switch to English.
I think this is part of the Tamil vs Kannada, English vs Hindi syndrome in Bangalore, and it affects just about everyone.

You probably have felt something like this too; if you've lived in Bangalore for a while. You've probably either been the initiator, or have been at the receiving end of a sort of parochialism, like in the Oscar-winning film Crash.

Let me put down something before I proceed further - I'm a Bangalorean in the sense that I am a Kannadiga and grew up in the city until I left at the age of 21. That was about 6 years ago. I was your typical 'mannina maga', somewhat scared of asserting my roots when I was younger and have in the last 5 years or so, begun embracing Kannada.


Being Kannadiga

There is a simmering discontent among Kannadigas here; after all they are a marginalized lot in Bangalore. Some surveys peg the Kannadiga population at 31 percent in Bangalore. Add to this the fact that Bangalore is the capital of Karnataka or 'Kannada Nadu', and you see where the anger is coming from. Forum in Koramangala, Garuda Mall in Margrath Road or Bangalore Central near Mayo Hall are the preferred hang-out zones for many in the city these days. Walk down the aisles or up the escalators in these gleaming steel monsters and you will not hear much Kannada spoken.
I believe there are two major reasons for this: native Bangaloreans (Kannada, Tamil, Telugu, etc.) still prefer to shop in a Jayanagar 4th block or a Malleswaram 8th cross, so most people in malls are usually 'fresh of the boat' and almost always from the North of the Vindhyas. Two, Kannadigas still tend to speak in English in public. There is some sense of shame, embarrassment or some other emotion at work here.

Tamil vs Kannada

For most Bangaloreans this issue is, as they say, as old as the hills. Kannadigas and Tamilians have been fighting in public and have been friends in private for many a decade in 'nammooru'. I've had many friends, but for some quirky reasons, all my close friends in Bangalore have been Tamilians.
During the Cauvery riots in the early 90s we didn't have any issues. Yet, this is one struggle that I expect will go on for a while, because there appears to be historical reasons behind the divide. Janaki Nair's excellent piece Battles for Bangalore: Reterritorialising the City sums it up rather neatly:

"More striking were the linguistic and cultural distinctions between the zones, since the Cantonment had attracted a large number of camp followers from Tamil speaking areas of the neighbouring Madras Presidency. Consequently, the Kannada language's restricted presence in the city was only altered in two decades of somewhat spectacular demographic growth, the decade of 1941-1951 when the population grew by 100 per cent, and the decade of 1971-81 when the city grew by 76 per cent. The city drew more migrants from districts within the state after the 1950s, significantly altering the linguistic map of the city"

So Tamilians can claim to have as much a right on Bangalore as Kannadigas. It is true though, that many Tamilians prefer to speak in their native tongue, even while talking to Kannadigas.
Try asking for directions in Frazer town. But equally, Kannadigas lose no opportunity in clamouring for the city to 'swept clean of Tamils'.
I actually think the whole Tamil vs Kannada issue is not such a big deal. Some people (not all of them politicians) tend to manipulate the residents of Bangalore to suit their own purposes.

English vs Hindi

If there is one issue that unites all Bangaloreans, it is the sight of someone from the cow belt, clamouring for directions in Hindi, and expecting to be answered back in their tongue. I was once tempted into asking a couple of slightly rude teenagers on a bike to speak in English. These days, Hindi is spoken pretty much everywhere in Bangalore. The prevailing feeling here has been more elegantly paraphrased before, but let me interpret it rather plainly: 'just because Hindi is the national language, it doesn't give anyone the right to expect a South Indian or Bengali to speak Hindi in Bangalore.'

Make no mistake, I don't think anyone wants a polarized world. As for me, I certainly don't dislike Hindi; after all I work in Delhi and have picked up Hindi. And like many Bangaloreans I like good Tamil songs, would love to be able to speak Telugu and Malayalam. In an ideal world, I'd like us Bangaloreans to be as we once were as kids. My mum would watch Mukta or Moodala Mane on ETV Kannada with as much enthusiasm as Kasauti Zindagi Ki on Star Plus. And I would proudly tell my cousins from America that only in Bangalore would you find people speaking at least three tongues!

Cross-posted (originally) on ibnlive.com
P.S And yes, I'm back!

Fade out

Companies do this regularly, they chop off side businesses and focus on core competencies. Even I'd done it once before, but I suppose I didn't learn from the experience. It was back in college when I was a in a band, heavily involved in cultural activities and had a hectic social life too. I had to cut something out - and after a lot of thought, I quit the band, as I did not have the drive to become a really good guitarist.
Now, 6 years on, it's happened again. Straddling too many worlds, I find I cannot devote a 100 percent to everything I've taken on. Cannot be good at work, read books, watch movies, work out, and devote time to the three blogs that I currently run. So I've decided to stay off blogging for a while. I will continue to discuss issues in the Indian tv news industry in jumpcutindia, because that's close to what I do for a living and is linked to my future plans. And the third blog? Well, I'm an anonymous voice there.

See you again in the future though! Those wishing to contact me, can simply leave a comment.

Banker

A couple of months back, I bought Ashok Banker's Prince of Ayodhya - and not because I especially love the Ramayana (yes, Banker's writing it all over again!). It's because I remember his Bombay novel Vertigo, as a particularly enjoyable read. Shortly after buying it though, a friend told me Banker's not a highly-rated writer. And that thought must have clouded my mind (being of the impressionable kind), because I still haven't started Prince...

Not anymore! Thanks to Amit Verma of Indian Uncut I got to read Banker's interview. It's on Sonia Faleiro's blog (these links, I say!). Even if you don't want to read Banker, read the interview. Here's an excerpt to get you going (again thanks to Verma):

"I don't think I'm a very talented writer, but I have passion. What I lack in stylistic or linguistic dexterity, and sheer artistry, I make up for with fecundity, fire and feel."

If you have the time after that, try Banker's blog.

From sport to playin’ the game

It’s been 2 ½ years and great fun. But I’ve decided to move away from sports journalism, for a while atleast. I now get to do politics and ‘general’ news, and that could mean getting down and getting my nose dirty. For, political journalism means that I will have to really hunt for stories, or soundbites whatever the case may be.

Obviously sports is really something else – as a sports journo you easily get to see people stretching their limits beyond belief. You see athletes pick themselves up after defeat and moving on. You see what goes behind their preparation. It has, and can be an unbelievably uplifting experience. And it is pure. That is what I will miss most.

So even you’re not really interested, I leave you with my top 5 moments:

Agassi beats Roddick at the Cincinnati Masters (2004)
Tennis has now got to be my favourite game. And there was nothing better than seeing an old and rusty master handing out a beating to the young turk. Andy Roddick swore and served raspingly, but Agassi pulled off searing returns and made the young ‘un run till he lost steam.

Portugal beat England (Euro 2004)
It was the height of football fever at work. And we slaved by day, and cheered ourselves hoarse during the nights. It all sort of coalesced into this one match, where England took on Portugal in the quarterfinals of the tournament. There were goals, and more goals and finally a penalty shootout. And there were about 20 of us, packed in one small room. A few of us were staunch supporters, and a few like me, shifted sides. Rip-roaring fun.

Athens 2004 Olympics
If Euro 2004 was hard work Athens 2004 was insanely gruelling. It was really my first time as Anchor (though I’d been doing our daily sports bulletin by then). What I remember most – apart from the Olympics that is, is the camaraderie our team shared. We were without two key members but gawd, did we turn on the heat.

ICC Champions trophy, England 2004
Well this was special, because it was my first time OUT of the country and the first ODI tournament I covered. What I felt during those 18-odd days is contained in an older post.

Australia beat the crap out of India at home (2004)
This series was an education. I learnt how to really read the game just by watching, while traveling with the team. We trawled through Bangalore, Chennai, Nagpur and Mumbai looking for interviews and watching sessions of play. And interviewing Shane Warne repeatedly (and when he broke the world record) was special.

These taggers I tell you...

They’re swarming all over the place, and Sayoni has now inflicted it upon me. So here goes -

Number of books I own: Anywhere between 150 - 600. I know it sounds ridiculous, but I can’t get more specific, as they are spread between Bangalore, Bombay and Delhi.

Last book I bought/read: The Golden Compass (more famously known as Northern Lights). This novel by Philip Pullman is Part 1 of the “His dark materials” trilogy. Am currently reading the second part (borrowed) called The Subtle Knife. It’s fantasy, and exciting stuff.

5 books that mean a lot to me:

Education of a wandering man by Louis L’amour – the great granddaddy of western novels. In the course of his life he was a prizefighter, elephant handler, lumberjack, miner, soldier, seaman and of course, a writer.

Lord of the Rings trilogy – my cousin gifted it to me in 9th standard (age 13) but it took me two attempts to proceed beyond a 100 pages. I managed it in 11th standard and from then on, was hooked. It still remains a powerful influence.

Dirk Gently series – they said the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy series was ultimate, but for me the real magic of Douglas Adams’ writing is in the two-part misadventures of Dirk Gently.

The adventures of Tom Sawyer & Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain – Tom Sawyer was a role model, need I say more?

Psmith series by P G Wodehouse – I love all Wodehouses, but the ultimate favourite is neither Bertie nor Uncle Fred – it’s our gentle comrade!

And the relay goes on…now I nominate these two:

Criminalenglish
Black Muddy River

Back in Bangalore

 

The flight attendant speaks in Kannada as well, and I begin to enjoy my flight to Bangalore in this low-cost airline. Even some of the people in the airplane seem to be speaking in my language. That's nice, because Kannada is a fast-fading tongue in my city. Okay, it isn't exactly fading, but people from other states are fast overwhelming the original 'local' population. But that's a different story...for now I've already reached Bangalore airport and I see for the first time, ads on the conveyer belt. Looks like every inch of this city is sold.

This time I resolve not to take a taxi home, but I let the friendly auto driver con me. I agree to pay 170 rupees, although I know the going rate is more like 85 bucks. I'm a fool, but he is - you guessed it - speaking Kannada, and my heart melts. Typically, he's Tamilian, but speaks Telugu as well.

The words come slowly at first: after all my Kannada has atrophied from disuse, but soon they begin to tumble out. In a day or two, the same old inflections will be back, I know. On the way home, I see people working on half-completed bridges raising clouds of dust and vehicles belching out smoke. And yet, through all this a pleasant wind is blowing.
Those bastards! How long can the city take this?

I call my mom, and tell her I'll be home in 20 minutes. I also lay down my bet: the new colour of our house is gray and white, I wager. But upon reaching, I find out it is more a tone of yellow. Ah well, it looks nicer than before.

I'm home I suppose.

And now, for A-Rod

So Rafael Nadal did win the French Open, and by doing so, won me a bet as well. And now my money's on Andy Roddick for Wimbledon. Just a hunch - not many give him a chance anyway. Read this.

Love for Tokyo

Isn't it a bit eerie that three of my favourite films have Tokyo in it? Lost in Translation and Kill Bill Vol 1, I'd already seen. But what really blew my mind was Tokyo Story.

Bipolar

It's been two extremes for me in the world of sport recently. Liverpool did the impossible by snatching victory from certain defeat in last night's thriller - the stage being the Champions League final (Europe's top club football tournament) against A C Milan in Istanbul. It was quite easily the best football match I've even seen. Liverpool three goals down in the first half, quickly found their feet to equalise with three stunning goals. That led to the penalty shootout, which the English club won.
Simon Barnes, Chief Sports Writer of The Times writes about it evocatively here.

And the other extreme was watching Andre Agassi sink further into inevitable retirement. His painful exit from the French Open thanks to an inflammed sciatic nerve reminded me of World Class, which is a must-read for any tennis fan. Agassi has been a favourite and it's getting difficult for me to face the fact that he doesn't have the speed, stamina, and now the body to compete professionally. I suppose Agassi is beginning to swallow the pill himself.

Quite Keane

We all buy the music we do for different reasons. Traditionally, I buy only on recommendation. But I do understand there are brave people who buy music off the shelves on impulse or thanks to curiousity. My latest acquisition falls in this category. Keane's Hopes and Fears sounded like a boy band with an inane album title to boot, but I still went ahead and bought it, because I read somewhere that it was doing brisk business (not the best of reasons to buy music), and that is was well, quite good. (Ah, so it WAS a recommendation that spurred me on!)

One thing which struck me as interesting is that Keane is a 3-member band, with NO guitar. The last and only time, I've listened to a band without possibly the most popular instrument in the world was way back in Bangalore, when Criminalenglish introduced me to Morphine, a band with drums, bass guitar and a saxophone. Keane is not quite so exotic or dark, but their simple three chord progressions (or what passes for it, in a band with no guitar) makes it easy to listen to, and I suspect the music isn't that easy to replicate. Hopes and Fears though is very much for a particular mood - in turns, I felt nostalgic for no reason, wistful without cause and sweetly alienated. Such can be the power of a band. The songs did blur into one another, without any number standing out. But what I did appreciate a lot are the stretches of silence between songs, which is an underrated courtesy to the listener, and not to be found in many albums.

I've a feeling Keane will grow on me, but it's more for the lyrics than anything else. I leave you with words from a song you just might have heard - Somewhere Only We Know.

I walked across an empty land
I knew the pathway like the back of my hand
I felt the earth beneath my feet
Sat by the river and it made me complete
Oh simple thing where have you gone
I'm getting old and I need something to rely on
So tell me when you're gonna let me in
I'm getting tired and I need somewhere to begin

The rest of the lyrics for the album can be accessed here. My favourite news site's reviewer however, thinks the "radio-friendly simplicity of the lyrics grates". Maybe I just liked singer Tom Chaplin's style!