The signboard looked at me straight and suddenly came alive as if commanding me to stay. I found a small bench of a tea-shop directly opposite the sign and made it my watch-tower for maybe the next 40 Mins.
"Devaraj-Urs Nagar" - could be a non-descript neighbourhood unknown the the mall strolling bangalorean or could be home to the quintessential struggling, invisible Bangalorean. A community that enticed me with its invisible charm today as I saw its many facades unfold before me. It was like I have entered a movie hall and could almost be directing the movie for I was creating it with my own eyes. It showed me maybe what I wanted to see and captured it in my movie. almost, like looking out of my window and seeing the world with fresh eyes all over again.
The old man who didnt want any attention on himself so just served me my tea and went about his business. He probably knew my intentions and wanted nothing to do with it.
The boisterous young boy at the tea-shop who wanted to be the adult protagonist of my movie but was soon over-powered by his boss, the owner of the tea-shop. My movie starts with the boy incidentally. He was like a 30 yr-old in the body of a 14-yr old. Survival tactics I presume. He had to act the grown up so he could be safe from the hunters who used him as their punching bag. catching hold of him, pinching him, teasing him, beating him up or just holding him tight almost like wanting to feel him. Yikes is all I could exclaim but the boy fought valiantly and kept going about his work. His employer thought of him as a toy and everytime he wanted some entertainment from his bored work, he beat up the boy in a joking way, in a playful manner, but beat him he did.
The world of Devaraj Urs Nagar unfolded in front of me. The auto-rickshaw drivers who just wanted to hang around at the auto-stand not so much for a customer to come along but more for the common bonhomie and the lazy slumber of the afternoon. I was just shocked at the physicality between the men - the hugging, the getting too close to the body, the hands going all over the place, the gestures - all led towards an under-current of homosexuality. I felt scared for the boys in the neighbourhood especially the working lot. The auto-rickshaw drivers were a special breed - almost like the the unwanted kings of that stretch - loud, boisterous, doing everything to seek the attention of bystanders but at the same just happy being themselves. They didnt allow an old man carrying a heavy load to grab a rickshaw from the road and he was made to get into on of the rickshaws at the stand and made to wait for 20 Mins. He didnt seem to have a choice. They continued to bully anyone and everyone walking past this street at their own whim and no one seemed to really be able to do anything. It was not violent but slightly aggressive. It didnt seem like they meant harm but they just wanted attention.
The afternoon was giving way to a silent beautiful evening as the azaan sounded in a distance. The tea-shops and the sweet-marts suddenly became abuzz with activity as the worshippers started strolling out on the streets. Young girls came running to pick up sweets to take home. Boys stood around to eat some before they took the rest home. Other boys walked home nonchalantly after their evening classes, casual and happy in their gait.
Rushed moms came in anxiously to pack tea and sweets for their husbands and others in the family before they came home. Young boys in bicycles maneuvered their way through the crowd of people and vehicles giving schumacher a run for his money anyday. Burkhas fluttered through the streets and searching eyes looked out through them.
A old man walked past with a baby of a few months in his arms and I was abhorred to see that in broad daylight, on a busy street, he kept kissing the infant on the lips. He was not a kiss of love, care or that of a father but a kiss of a man desperate. I might be wrong, I hope to god that I am wrong but I continued to follow him till he turned around the corner and was not happy with again this under-current of physicality that seemed to define in most activities around this street.
Ready to leave. I pondered at just how many children I had seen in the last 40 Mins and felt a deep sense of pain at the thought of how much these beautiful children have to endure to survive, how many more tests they need to give to blossom as beautiful lotuses in our world. I walked away with a deep sense to emptiness. with questions as usual but no answers.
I later found out that Devaraj Urs was a Chief Minister of Bangalore at sometime.
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