It's a Dogs Life

Another long hiatus from blogging and I return apologetic as ever, both for not updating my own blog and for not taking the time out to read any other blogs. What's a guy to do, there's much work and little time to do it. The other day I had to leave the institute early just so I could get home early and clean up my room and wash some clothes.
But that's not what this post's about. Confusion had commented in my previous post the pictures helped in visualizing what i was talking about and Nothingman added that it was time I got myself a phone with a camera. Well... hard cheese, all I can do about it is try extra hard describing stuff.
On that note I think I'll begin with Kadugodi, the area in which I live. I think I mentioned in some previous post that it was a bit of a village, well that doesn't really do it justice. Kadugodi is actually more like an urban village, something you tend to find on the outskirts of any large city. There are narrow alleys, flanked by open drains through which thick black streams flow, there are the cows, the chickens and then the stray dogs.
I think I first developed a paranoia against stray dogs when one bit me when I was a kid. Since then, I've never managed to walk past a stray without my heart taking on a life of it's own. Some times it gets so bad, I wonder how nobody else manages to hear it.
There are so many dogs here, it would be impossible to keep count, according to someone who knows about these things, they've all been neutered, but that doesn't seem right because behind every bitch there runs a pack of puppies, just waiting to grow up and scare the shit out of me.
What I hate about them the most though is the fact that when compared to me, they seem to be leading quite a good life. Unlike most strays, they don't spend all day looking for food and that leads me to believe someone is feeding them. Thus freed of this concern, they spend the whole day, either sleeping or sunning themselves, what time is left, they employ in waging large scale gang war on rivals from adjoining alleys.
Getting stuck in between one of these is like hell. Normally i somehow manage to muster up enough courage to slip past dogs that are sleeping, scratching themselves or pursuing other such trivial activities. Once they start barking, try as I might, I wouldn't walk near them for all the fags in China.
My roommate observed that they idyllic life isn't that great, due to the density of dogs packed into the area, the territories of gangs are typically restricted to a single alley or occasionally to an adjoining stretch of the main road. Any dog that dares set a paw outside its demarcated territory is immediately set upon by dozens of its canine rivals. So far from leading a totally carefree existence, they too are prisoners of their own canine instinct.
Within friendly territory, however, they are free to chase after their tails, snap at flies, chase after speeding cars or pursue any random whim with dogged determination.
They have one tendency in particular that fascinates me, their self-appointed role as moral and social watchdogs. If a vehicle passes through the lanes at a relatively sane speed, they will ignore it, sometimes even consenting to get out of the way. Anyone who makes the mistake of driving fast suddenly finds a whole pack barking their bloody heads off chasing after him. Then there are the rag-pickers. While they ignore the regular morning trash collectors, they seem to hate rag-pickers. They're almost as class conscious as people. They seem to single out the poor and very obviously unwashed as targets for their wrath.
Then there is their mob-mentality, if one dog barks, every other one in a 200 meter radius will heed the call and come to investigate, it's funny sometimes to come upon a pack of dogs, all barking in different directions, sometimes I suspect, they just like the sound of their own voices. Or it would be funny had I not been so damn scared.
It's scary sometimes, the similarity between dogs and us, they're as vivid a reminder as any of our lowly origins.

Decay

The Discoverer building of the International Tech Park; this photo has been taken from the smokers 'lounge' , pretty close to where my institute is. Today is a Sunday, today, the normally busy tech park closes down. As the offices take a day off, most of the restaurants in the food court take a day off, the mall empties of all but a few people doing their overtime or others like me, who are so used to being here, Sunday at home seems unnatural.
Sundays at the Tech Park are awful. I've grown accustomed by now to the crowds, to the rush, everyone's running around, busy. On a Sunday this place goes into hibernation. You can walk around the empty corridors, without having to watch your step, the activity, the perennial sounds of voices and strained central air conditioning are gone. In their place, a deep sense of gloom and ennui settles down. With the holiday, the maintenance staff too relax, while a few continue with their normal duties, most switch over activities that are ignored during the week, like cleaning out the fountain. Thick plastic pipes run amok over the soiled floor, carrying water from the restrooms to the outside where dozens of blue shirted-men are occupied, scrubbing the accumulated dirt.
Our institute too succumbs to the temporary decay. The security guard is sitting around, un-uniformed, while housekeeping staff clear shards of glass from a shattered door. I can't but help thinking twice before I sign in. Is it really worth it, am I going to be able to get any work done under these conditions?
Apparently not, otherwise I wouldn't be posting this. Anyway I know that with tomorrow, the Tech Park will again metamorphose into the monster that I am used to, and till then all I can think of doing is use all this free Internet access I have.

Across The Railway Lines

Another long leave of absence from my blogging obligations and while the blogospher breathed a huge sigh of relief, my blog has been clamoring for attention that I just don't have time to give it. The whole week has been crammed with tests and assignments and then some more tests. I got some respite today after mailing in one assignment so here's what's been going on.
Every grandparent has some story of how they had to travel miles to get to school or something along those lines, well now I have mine. A five minute walk from my PG, on the way to the bus stand is Whitefield railway station. To get to the bus Stand, we have to cross the tracks and although there isn't much traffic on the tracks, our timings generally coincide with those of the trains. In the morning at about 9, I see the Bangalore to Chennai train pass and catch it on the way back 12 hours later. This being India, nobody on foot actually waits for trains to pass while the crossing is down, generally we run to cross the tracks before the train does and though we cross while it is still at a sensible distance, it's kind of unnerving to cross while a speeding locomotive hurtles towards you, screaming it's high banshee wail. A few days ago, o the way back, we were standing next to the tracks waiting for a train to pass when to our horror, we found another one bearing down on us on the track behind us. Although there is enough distance between two sets of tracks to allow you to stand without being hit, it's not a particularly comfortable experience having two trains run on either side of you.
And that's about all the fun we get to have here, like I mentioned in a previous post, I'm in the institute during daylight hours. The one day a week we get off I spend nursing a hangover from Saturday night, so playing chicken with trains is my only source of entertainment.
Oh yes, once a week, on Fridays (ie. today) the people who manage the Tech park, organize some sort of 'entertainment' for the many thousands of people who work here. In the open area reserved for us smokers, a stage is set up and someone will come and do something. The first one I saw was a bunch of school kids singing, then came a DJ, then some trick cyclists and today two Irishmen (he he it sounds a bit like the beginning of a joke.. A Dj, a cyclist and an Irishman walk into a bar...). All except for the cyclists were received with a very lukewarm response (what do you expect from software professionals?). The two Irishmen who are at it as I type are performing what is allegedly 'traditional' Irish folk music, interspersed with incredibly bad humor. After reading Spike Milligan i was of the opinion that the Irish were inherently funny people, but it seems that either I am wrong or these two specimens do not adequately represent the Irish. The little on-stage banter of theirs that I caught was unfunny to the point of being painful.
For instance while talking about some instrument they were using;
"And this (he pulls out an over sized mandolin) is a Bouzouki, a traditional Greek instrument that is also used in Ireland... not to be confused with a bazooka"
Bored titters from the audience.
"It's not loaded"
Silence
"And this is a Harmonica... this is not a bazooka either"
Dead silence
He went on like this for quite some time, grasping desperately into his bag of jokes, hoping something funny would eventually pop out. He only stopped when he had halved his already minute audience and shattered my stereotypes.
You see why I have to resort to playing with my trains?