The urban landscape of India is dotted with a wide variety of cities and towns, each of which stand out for some peculiar quality, a flavour, an aura that gives the place its charm. Having lived and travelled in no less than five big cities of the country, I might call myself a student of urban landscapes and their uniqueness. Our little Mangalore, the bearer of the rich Tulunadu heritage, stands nowhere low in comparison with a few prominent others. And our city’s charm lies in its homeliness.
I first came to Mangalore in August 2008, to the home of a friend of mine who I studied with in Bangalore. I was still new to Karnataka and was still getting used to its culture and language. Among my first experiences on the way to Mangalore were the endearing view and chill of the Western Ghats, lines of arecanut plantations, and rickety roads. After entering the city, I was welcomed at the KSRTC bus depot by the large and then the only, Bharath Mall, with Big Bazar spelt out in large. The roads were fairly crowded with vehicles. ‘Boy, I like the feel of this place,’ my heart told me then.
My first stay in the city was at Kotekani, a fairly affluent area as I remember noticing, and my friend’s house was warmth personified. Her father and she told me a lot about the literature and lifestyle of Mangalore and Dakshina Kannada. They informed me about the different languages of the region and the multifarious cultures. I was taken to Panambur beach, and at the age of 21, for the first time, watching the vast expanse of the sea and feeling the sliding sand under my feet as the waves struck, I was no less than thrilled. I went back with a very pleasant memory.
Who would have imagined that I would land in the same city a year later, and be an accepted resident of the region? On my second visit – a visit to become a resident – I was on a lonely trip. The Sahyadri and the greenery were mesmerising as ever. I had taken a day bus from Bangalore to take in the scenery better.
Mangalore has been my home for more than two years now. It does not have the grueling travel distances of Bangalore or Mumbai, or the fierce sun of Ahmedabad or Delhi. It is more welcoming and friendly than many other towns I have stepped in. The people here care to return your smiles and are courteous and more obliging than their counterparts in Ahmedabad or Mumbai. I have not yet been subject to the eve-teasing common in most parts of Kerala, nor have I had to endure theft, burglary or fraud of any kind (touch wood!). I can walk on the roads even at night, and no one has scared me yet. The city has been very good to me.
I admit that even after three years in Karnataka, my knowledge of Kannada is no more than that of a three-year-old child. I stumble upon words, make gruesome errors in grammatical structuring, and often murder the language mercilessly in my attempts to converse with the localites. But while I was crucified for this in Bangalore (“Neevu Karnatakadalli iddu Kannada kaleebekku madam”), the Mangaloreans have been very kind. Most of those who ask me my origins (“a Keralite from Gujarat”) have appreciated the amount of Kannada I have picked up so far, and others have generously offered to talk with me in my mother tongue Malayalam, which seems to be the city’s fifth language after Tulu, Kannnada, Beary and Konkani.
That brings me to another salient feature of the city – its personification of unity in diversity. Baring the fanatical attacks of Rama Sene and Bajrang Dal, Mangalore has a very congenial cohabiting of the different religious sects. The various castes of Hindus, Muslims and Christians peacefully and cordially inhabit the city. Ahmedabad too has a sizeable Muslim population, but they have their own ‘areas’ and there aren’t many pockets in the city where families from the two religions live together.
Add to that the Gujarati Hindus’s strict vegetarianism, and the religious divide deepens.
But in Mangalore, they’re all friends. Despite the tensions deep down people’s hearts after the 2006 riots, even as a newcomer to the city, I feel the existence of congeniality everywhere. I have resided in Ahmedabad for 16 years but had just one or two Muslim friends, where in my two years in Mangalore, I already have around half a dozen of them.
I might be sounding like a tourist who is determined to find no fault with the city I’ve decided to live in, or like a sycophant who is trying to find acceptance through adulation, for my friends who have been in this city all their life point out to me several faults of the place – the chief being the lack of broad-mindedness among people, gossip and rumour-mongering, limited number of posh hang-out places, and a dead night life.
I’d plead to them that while the first two are features common to the entire humankind, especially when more number of people have a greater of idle time and limited exposure to the world, the last two are just a matter of time and development. Already we have franchises and showrooms of national retail chains such as Aditya Birla’s More, Future Group’s Big Bazar and Spar Hypermarket; fashion stores like Pantaloons, Lifestyle, Westside and Reliance Trends; and for liquor enthusiasts, there is an excellent collection of imported and high-quality spirits at Wine Gate. Shopping havens like the state’s second-largest mall – the City Centre – and Pio Mall at Bejai are also ready to sweep our people off their feet. In no time, we’ll see Mak Mall at Kankanady and Mischief at KS Rao up and running, relieving the metropolitan residents of at least one complaint.
However, no city becomes metropolitan through these elite and opulent structures alone. In fact, the more posh a city becomes, the less it feels for its people. In a city like Mumbai or Delhi, unless you live in the lower-income areas, nobody would either know or care if some tragedy befell you. A city like Mangalore, on the other hand, still has its heart in the right place. People care, and though you might call it intrusion of privacy, you will miss it once it becomes as huge as Mumbai or Delhi.
The city is now peopled with residents from across the country, thanks to the booming BPO and IT sectors and the excellent standard of education. Students and fresh employees come from as far as Nagaland and West Bengal in the east to Uttaranchal and Haryana in the north, while the people of the five South Indian states are already part of the regular crowd. Their common complaints include bad roads, incessant rains, killing humidity and lazy weekends. Well, in my opinion, if they wanted the same facilities in here as they have in their respective cities, they’d rather go back. A different city means a different experience. You have to be ready for a give-and-take.
My 16 years of stay in Ahmedabad, a year in the silicon city of Bangalore, brief stays in Mumbai, and short visits to Kochi and Delhi were all different experiences for me. Mangalore is no less. It offers me excellent hospitality, acceptance, independence and a new identity. I feel at home.
The writer at Costa Coffee House, Dwarka sector 6, Delhi
View from Marine Drive at Kochi
Relaxing at Kamat Lokaruchi off Mysore Road,
Bangalore
Sitting by the Netravathi at Morgan Gate, M'lore
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