Home

A friend of mine recently said something interesting. He told me that the concept of home was quite unclear and ambiguous to him. His statement set me thinking. What is home? Is it just simply the roof under which you live? If so, then for me, I should have two homes. I live in a hostel as well as presently during the holidays in what I always considered home. But then again, home should be something concrete. Right?

They say home is where the heart is. Is it that simple after all? My friends in college don't like it when someone refers to our hostel as home. If I was to say to one of them - "Hey, lets go back home and pick up the book", I'd be quickly reminded that home was back in India. Why the hostility towards residences outside the proverbial home? Aren't you living by your own rules out here? Isn't it a relief that no one tells you what to do? It's your own personal kingdom. Freedom is found in abundance. And yet the apprehension.

It's a personal thing I guess. Many find comfort in different places they go to. For them, home is a fellow traveler. I'm a rooted individual myself. Wherever I go, home will always be my city, my house, my room. Home is my own low, amazingly sleep inducing bed. Home is the trolley next to the fridge, with myriad edible things for me to increase my waistline. Home is the basketball ring to which I still have to attach a net. Home is where my best friends "hang out" for more time than they do in their own homes. Home is the posters on my wall. Home is my family. Home is where I will always belong, someplace I'll know better than I know myself.

"What is more agreeable than one's home?" - Marcus Tullius Cicero

What's In A Name?

Shakespeare evidently never experienced the irritation of being called Sheikh Speer or such. I am intrigued by this particular folly of his. Seldom have people got my name right. It took an effort back home to explain how my name is pronounced. Here in Singapore, I've given up. Say name cannot lah! I've heard anik, ban, gupta, datta, aniba and even honey bun for crying out loud! I guess I am destined to have an unpronounceable name. But it's fine. Really. I quite enjoy being called Bun, Bread and the occasional non bakery item such as Bongo. But what I dont enjoy is seeing my beloved city undergo a name change due to a politically fueled movement for freedom from "cultural enslavement".

As the world sadly knows by now, Bangalore is no more. It has rebranded itself, taking the local name for “city of cooked beans”. Now many might have a problem with the recognition issue, and say 'How can you change the name of the I.T. Capital of India?' But that's not what the main problem is. Yeah sure Bangalore, oh sorry, Bengalooru Mahanagara Palike will have to end up spending about 50 crores due to the name change, but the government sees this as an "investment". I'm not angry because no one will come to Bengalooru. In the end the name probably will catch on. I have good friends here from Mumbai, Chennai and Kolkata too. The printing industry is having a field day because of the new business. Good for them. Knock yourselves out. What I am disappointed about though is the motive behind the change.

For crying out loud, Bangalore has enough authenticity by itself. We have some of the country's greatest writers such as Girish Karnad and U.R. Ananthamurthy who write in Kannada as well as English. We have a thriving culture with Kannadiga organisations always conducting cultural programs and what not. We have more signboards in Kannada than in English. We feel it natural to converse with the local auto rickshaw guy in Kannada. We hardly talk to the shopkeepers in English or even Hindi for that matter. For any true Bangalorean, its culture is a part of our being. To even have to stoop as low as to create a need for culture, is appalling. We know all this, and yet the government claims a victory for authenticity and culture.

I'm not trying to dish out anti-establishment rubbish, but the actions speak for themselves. Over the past few years, radio stations, discotheques and even restaurants have been banned due to activist sensationalism and 'cultural freedom'. Sin thy name is English! The government recently went a step further when Basavaraj Horatti, the education minister threatened to ban more than 2,000 private schools that taught in English, not Kannada. Hell, call the city 'Ban' Galore if at all you want to change it's name!

So what is the fight about anyways? British Imperialism? I sense a wave of Kannadiga Imperialism coming on if you ask me! The British did not change our culture by changing the "authentic" name of our city. Are we really going to blame them for a mispronunciation? I think it was a completely uncalled for change, which does no good, but creates unnecessary friction and possible damage as well. I left Bangalore in July and will be going back to Bengalooru in December. That's not even amusing.

You don't change anything by calling anirban honey bun. I'm still the same person with the same virtues and defects. I love my city just the way it is. Sure we have buildings and road names reminiscent of British rule, but for every Richmond Road, we have a Sampige Road. And for every Daly Memorial Hall, We have a Ravindra Kalakshetra. Thats why I ask the government - Yaake neevu sumne hesaru change madtaidare? To me the city will always be Bangalore. Oh sorry Mr. Cultural whistle blower, I meant Namma Bengalooru.

Lost In Translation

They say that there is no time like the present for postponing what you ought to be doing. 4 months, 6 days and 23 hours is a long time. In terms of a blogging break, it really is. Reasons could be given, but what purpose would it serve? So here goes - another attempt at effectively capturing my life on cyberspace.

Indonesia left south east asia in a haze.
North Korea left the world in a daze.
I finally got out of the maze.
Or was it just another phaze?

Singapore does a few things to you. It shows you the trick of survival in a varied culture. It teaches you too look below the glossy exterior and identify the dirt within. It exposes your weaknesses faster than a torture chamber would. It gives you the best opportunities in the world, but snatches it away the moment you loosen up. And of course, it reduces grammar requirements drastically. You don't need to give an elaborate explanation to ask one for something. All you have to ask is 'can?'. Mostly, cannot. It's worth the try.

Home is being missed terribly. I miss my family, my friends and my food (Ma.. I'm hungry!). I miss my city. I miss M.G. Road. I miss NPS. I miss 5 hour-long phone conversations. I miss long walks through Defence Colony. I miss Bangalore. But I aint gonna complain. Life is good here. Plus, my ticket for december is booked. So I'm happy!

New friends have been made. New places have been seen. New types of food have been eaten. Old habits though, have remained. College is great fun. I love SMU. Not just because every place in it is covered by posters screaming the same thing! I love it because it is everything I expected it to be. And sometimes its gone way beyond. The technology in this place could make NASA raise an eyebrow. Or maybe two. And of course, who can ignore hostel life? It's something I'd recommend highly. Nowhere else will dinner be at 6 in the morning, and nowhere else will you meet a football player from Ghana, and a Thai monk who debates.

I have mastered the art of getting up at 8:20 for an 8:30 class, and still making it in time. I'm impressed! Quizzing is being missed sorely. It's place has been taken for now, by debating. British Parliamentary at that. It's great fun. Before I move on, any P.O.I.'s at this point? I kill myself!

Motion picture type soundtrack has begun playing in the background. The sirens are going off. The show has begun. And I'm on my way. Come on, lah. Slow down cannot. Have a great time? Can. Wah lau eh!

Lost in translation.