St Patrick's church

The power went off when I was ironing some clothes. We drove through the wonderful tree-lined streets to reach a person who helped us out for Rs 4. S wasn't insisting though.

Even on the outskirts of Bangalore, Karnataka is incredibly green. The drive to the temple called 'Ghati Subramaniya' was fine for the most part, but towards the ending stages, the roads did threaten to flatten the tyres. The temple we reached was not impressive. The small town around it was as temple towns are. There are far too many people trying to sell you fruits, coconuts and flowers at high prices to offer to the gods. It is also customary to have a host of beggars, who try to make the most out of the guilt and fear that draws most Indians to temples. There were starved dogs all around, excreta of a variety of animals, stink, dust and a lot of heat. The line to enter through the tiny door in the temple was a zig-zag of sweaty people all pushed together. S and I decided to give it a skip. Instead we took a few rounds around the place simply looking. Nothing inspired us much. The light was a pale grey and all colours were muted. There were statues of snakes, people offering prayers to them, random people smeared in vermilion asking for 'donations'... In fact the place was nothing short of a chaotic mess. There are far too many temples in India that fit this description. J and A were rather tired too and decided that our destination was perhaps not worth the long drive. I thought the drive in itself was worth it. Also looking at some of the vinyards on the way, I was only wondering about the unimaginative way in which we often travel. We go to a place with a name. What about all the nameless places along the way? How about stopping at some random location that is simply inviting and beautiful and relatively pristine(in absence of a better word)? Had the weather been cooler, I would have loved to spend some time in the vinyards, perhaps not saying much or doing much... but just being. But time being scarce, we had to scuttle back to the city.

We decided upon a late lunch and made reservations at 'Hong Kong hustle', miles away from the temple-world. what was interesting about the place was that they almost let you make your own dish by choosing the ingredients in a bowl. Of course, this did scare me. I was half the cook! The starters, being excellent made up for my failure to make a good choice with the main-course. The casual ambience, the minimal decor was something I liked.

Recommended 'The Book Thief' to J who promptly went ahead and bought it before I could gift it to her. Finally S and I decided we'd take our own stroll around the place. Again, Bangalore does have its own attitude, its own identity. In the heart of all the hustle, at a distance behind the boundary wall lay the St. Patrick's church. It was lovely. So increadibly quiet and peaceful, wreathed in the late afternoon sun shining upon the frescoes through the painted glass. I could sit there awhile, in the relative emptiness... It had a quality that I can best describe as gravity, a quiet pull.

The day ended in rain, in falling umbrellas, in people scooting down streets smiling, wearing plastic bags on their heads, car headlamps peeping through a curtain of droplets, water splashing all around, drenched motorists... and so on. We bought a few things at 'Mother Earth' and mostly broke out into laughter, the kind of laughter that apparently has no reason and yet, is hard to control! Pecos was full, rain soaking down its roof, so we decided on Hard Rock Cafe. It was wonderful as we were ushered in. 'Losing my religion' is the song of the moment. Will remember A, who was extremely funny all through. Even when we were back, he unleashed a flurry of jokes and riddles and has us in splits! I think that last half and hour after midnight will be remembered. Letting our 'defenses down' that's how J put it. I only wish we had them down more often.

A memorable, and most eventful day indeed!