On the contrary: Pop the bubble, it's Ulcer Lake'

As is my wont, I was taking my evening constitutional around Ulsoor Lake, inhaling the heady aroma of dead fish, sewage and the dust from the three lakh POP Ganeshas when I realized I’d attained geezerhood.

It happened like this: a young couple, let’s call them Shailesh and Suma, came up to me and asked, “Boating is allowed here, uncle?” I suppose I’m being unreasonable; some people may have been flattered to have been asked a sporty question in a nation of couch potatoes, just as a fatty may have been offended at being asked directions to the bhelpuri stall.

But I was gutted by the term of endearment: yes, the uncle bit. Repressing the urge to make comments about his aunt, I directed them in the direction of the pedal boats. They thanked me profusely and as they left they shared with me the info that they had come all the way from Rajajinagar to immerse their idol (clay, one hopes) and figured they may as well give their Fitbits a workout, hence the boating query.

Since I am now a crusty codger, I need no longer worry about hurt sentiments: I fully intend to rant, rave and fulminate on the subject of my pet peeves and if you, dear reader have any, feel free to share them.

My point is this: why would anyone in their right minds come all the way from the wilds of RPC Layout through two hours of maddening traffic to what my cartoonist friend Ponnapa calls “Ulcer Lake” to propitiate the Gods?

Surely there are water-bodies open for immersion in Rajajinagar, not to mention a kayak or two. Hebbal is an option and there is the added attraction of egrets and the Australian heron. Wouldn’t it be so much better for one’s health, sanity and equilibrium to commute as little as possible in this shambolic city?

But then I read that a wonderful steel bridge is going to be built by L&T at a piffling cost of 1791 cr and now Shalu and Suma’s travel time will be cut by almost an hour when they visit Ulcer Lake next year to fulfill their piety.

This, my friends, is what is known as progress. Or congress, as the case may be. On behalf of my long-suffering fellow Bangaloreans, can I request for a mudde approach to our civic woes? No cake, no caviar, just
mudde-saaru?