Where the City comes to party

Bangalore - Back and Forth
Where the City comes to party
Deccan Herald

The first time I was out on Brigade Road on a wet evening at age eight, it took my breath away. The city lights did – neon, back-lit boxes, glow signs – bouncing off the road. Restaurants, glittery shops, the crush of well-dressed people, the delicious scent of women in high heels. The chatter of Cantonese in the Chinese Dry Cleaners, Kohinoor restaurant’s radio putting out Rafi’s Ai dil hai mushkil, a barrel-chested dark man wearing a Stetson, pulling on a cigar outside Basco’s, and out of Phillips Radio House came a lively rock ‘n’ roll number, Green Door.

This was the place I had heard so much of. A symbol of faded splendour, a place of excitement, nostalgia, romance, mystery and beauty, an area surpassingly unique. There were others, the orthodox elders who held the view that Brigade Road was “sin” – bars and wild party animals, dancing girls, and white people cavorting freely at all parts of the day and night. “Besides, they have no respect for money, spending it like water,” said a grouchy uncle from the old school.

The expensive part probably holds water even to the day. The ‘sin’ part was a reference to the dance parlours and pubs such as Basco’s during WWII.

Admiring Brigade Road, I’d hear my doctor-father reminiscing about his early bachelor days, “Even though expensive, the place had everything,” he’d say and after a reflective pause, “Why, after a gallon of petrol, cigarettes, a beer, a rupee disappeared just like that!”

Soon after Independence, Bangalore became quieter. For a while. The New Opera house and Paul’s Rex — where, after a late English movie, a ‘blind man’ greeted you with a plaintive “Poor man, sir. Old man, sir”, and if you didn’t drop a coin in his hat, he’d swear at you with choice expletives.

Eateries on Brigade Road such as Crown Café, Volgas, Nilgiris, and Gajalakshmi Bhavan had their patrons. But with the appearance of Koshy’s, Kwality’s, Breeze and the Only Place, a new exciting spin was put on the strip. In the 60s, Brigade Road became a favourite hangout for college students— to pound the pavements, to chat, laugh…and perchance, catch a pretty face from JNC or MCC. Often times, guys just hung around and watched life go by. This was the time when a rupee got you a masala dosa, a filter coffee…and a Beatles’ song on the jukebox at the modish Koshy’s.

So how are things on Brigade Road today? New, hip and trendy businesses have invaded once-neglected buildings. Pizzerias, fusion food, global brands of fashionable clothing, stylish footwear, the latest entertainment electronics dazzle visitors at every turn.

Many old buildings have already been, or are being torn down. Years ago the imposing Brigade Towers sprung up on the site of an old bungalow near Crown and Hercules Gymnasium. Now, Albion Stores/Mathias & Co and Victory Dry Cleaners premises are being targeted for a shopping mall. The old post office, Ashoka Electricals, West End Stores, the Standard Motor Company, Tarapore Circulating Library, Alex-ander and Ambassador tailors, Victory Book Stall, Becks, KSBA on the first floor, King’s Cycle Mart, Select Hair Dressers, the 1920s Campbell building, Buward’s Building, Eve’s Beauty Parlour, and St Louis Boarding House are some of the institutions gone or fading into history.

Coming back to money and fun-times on Brigade Road, what does a rupee get you? Peanuts. Literally, from a cart vendor near Cauvery. Even that is handed to you with unmasked condescension. For a rupee coin, the peanut vendor half-fills a conical paper packet and hands it to you with a wry smile. So what does it cost to catch a movie and a snack these days? “Like, you’d need a hundred for an afternoon outing,” a niece said, toting up prices for a movie, pop corn, and a latte.”

And that spending is no big deal. With Bangalore’s strong economy leaving many residents flush with moolah, commercial ventures are raking it in. “Students blow up five-hundred or more on just one afternoon outing,” says niece Reena. “So what if we can’t have a bash here with our limited pocket money? Brigade Road is still a cool place to hang out,” says student Rajeev Rao.

“At the end of the month, its sort of cool to chill out here.” “Right,” I said, empathising with a new-found soul mate.