We went to Cubbon Park over the weekend and Rishi's excitement was obvious considering that we were going there after a long time. It was funny how Rishi, who was just a while ago complaining that we were not buying skating shoes for him, suddenly became nervous when I asked him to try it out first in the Park; there you have an instructor, the shoes and a place to skate also. He started giving all sorts of excuses but I prevailed and in the end, though he fell 20 times in as many minutes, he looked like an achiever. Nearby, a couple of young girls sang folk songs and danced Bharatanatya so Anu and I became part of the audience.
Actually, living in Bangalore East, where one would wonder if it is really Karnataka or any of the more dominant neighbouring states, I'm used to a sense of pleasant surprise everytime I hear my mother-tongue. When I moved newly from Hyderabad to Bangalore, it wasn't obvious that I had moved to my state as far as my interaction with my neighbours was concerned because hardly anyone spoke the native language. So when the kid in Cubbon Park sang so beautifully, that too with an impeccable diction, it made me so proud and happy somehow. I know there are many who feel this way and no wonder when I asked Abhi what he liked the most about Mysore where he went to study recently, the first thing he said was that everyone spoke Kannada there.
There are various mazes for kids at the park and kids are very good at them but what surprised me was that I never saw anyone trying to climb the trees on the opposite side. I mean, I know there are few guards and they may not allow it but I don't know if that stops kids from having a shot at it anyway. I want to try it out myself some day just for old days' sake; Manjanna and I would climb the old white Hibiscus tree in front of my grandmother's house every morning and while Manjanna(and even Shashi!) was very good at dangling and jumping down like a monkey, I found it surprisingly hard to get down. The boys had to pump me in with confidence with multiple demonstrations and I felt I had mastered the art once I got down but the butterflies would fill my stomach again the next time. Though the tree itself died one summer before I conquered it, it served as a good foothold for my future climbings.
Doesn't it happen sometimes that there is someone you see everyday but hardly pay any attention to until one fine day you discover by accident that that person has so much in common with you and so different from the image you have built and you regret not knowing it before? That is happening to me now.
Actually, living in Bangalore East, where one would wonder if it is really Karnataka or any of the more dominant neighbouring states, I'm used to a sense of pleasant surprise everytime I hear my mother-tongue. When I moved newly from Hyderabad to Bangalore, it wasn't obvious that I had moved to my state as far as my interaction with my neighbours was concerned because hardly anyone spoke the native language. So when the kid in Cubbon Park sang so beautifully, that too with an impeccable diction, it made me so proud and happy somehow. I know there are many who feel this way and no wonder when I asked Abhi what he liked the most about Mysore where he went to study recently, the first thing he said was that everyone spoke Kannada there.
There are various mazes for kids at the park and kids are very good at them but what surprised me was that I never saw anyone trying to climb the trees on the opposite side. I mean, I know there are few guards and they may not allow it but I don't know if that stops kids from having a shot at it anyway. I want to try it out myself some day just for old days' sake; Manjanna and I would climb the old white Hibiscus tree in front of my grandmother's house every morning and while Manjanna(and even Shashi!) was very good at dangling and jumping down like a monkey, I found it surprisingly hard to get down. The boys had to pump me in with confidence with multiple demonstrations and I felt I had mastered the art once I got down but the butterflies would fill my stomach again the next time. Though the tree itself died one summer before I conquered it, it served as a good foothold for my future climbings.
Doesn't it happen sometimes that there is someone you see everyday but hardly pay any attention to until one fine day you discover by accident that that person has so much in common with you and so different from the image you have built and you regret not knowing it before? That is happening to me now.
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