FF #5
Cycling wasn’t cool enough those days, and that mattered to Milind. But autorickshaw fares mattered to me. As a compromise we had parked our bicycles way before we reached MG Road, the most happening part of the city.
Bangalore was a very different place in the 90s from the city we know today. The number of trees here were certainly many times that of cars. We were research scholars at the Institute on meagre fellowships. Most of us dressed rather shabbily, either because we didn’t really care, or maybe because we couldn’t afford to be fashionable, and at least I didn’t have much of a dressing sense anyway. Except Milind. He dressed sharp— his jeans clung to his legs perfectly, the rest of us wore shapeless sacks in comparison. Neither Science nor the meagerness of the fellowship could change the Bombayite in him.
As we walked along Brigade Road towards the cinema, we saw a beggar ahead of us. He would latch on to every passerby, and insist on being given money.
“I detest this kind of behavior! He shouldn’t be harassing people if we don’t want to give alms!” Milind kept grumbling to me.
We passed by the beggar. He ignored us.
“Even the beggar knows that we are from the Institute!” Milind was deeply offended, possibly hurt.
Suddenly, he stopped in his tracks and stared at me, “Neel, we’ll have enough time after we buy our tickets. Let’s go shopping—I think you need better clothes.”
Cycling wasn’t cool enough those days, and that mattered to Milind. But autorickshaw fares mattered to me. As a compromise we had parked our bicycles way before we reached MG Road, the most happening part of the city.
Bangalore was a very different place in the 90s from the city we know today. The number of trees here were certainly many times that of cars. We were research scholars at the Institute on meagre fellowships. Most of us dressed rather shabbily, either because we didn’t really care, or maybe because we couldn’t afford to be fashionable, and at least I didn’t have much of a dressing sense anyway. Except Milind. He dressed sharp— his jeans clung to his legs perfectly, the rest of us wore shapeless sacks in comparison. Neither Science nor the meagerness of the fellowship could change the Bombayite in him.
As we walked along Brigade Road towards the cinema, we saw a beggar ahead of us. He would latch on to every passerby, and insist on being given money.
“I detest this kind of behavior! He shouldn’t be harassing people if we don’t want to give alms!” Milind kept grumbling to me.
We passed by the beggar. He ignored us.
“Even the beggar knows that we are from the Institute!” Milind was deeply offended, possibly hurt.
Suddenly, he stopped in his tracks and stared at me, “Neel, we’ll have enough time after we buy our tickets. Let’s go shopping—I think you need better clothes.”
14 Jun 2016
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