"A paved path alongside a road, typically intended for pedestrian use" - is what the dictionary says about the word 'footpath'. A Bangalore footpath? Sounds like a work of fiction!
As I trudge beside a 'footpath', to my neighbourhood park, for my evening walk every day, I dart, dodge, hop, skip, and pirouette with an expertise that could well make me the envy of a surefooted mountain goat.
Bangaloreans are survivors. They are the fittest. Charles Darwin would be smiling in his eternal abode. I am not just a pedestrian, I am a seasoned concrete warrior, deftly negotiating puddles, overturned concrete blocks, twigs, banana peels and blades of grass on a daily basis. The accidental bruise, twisted ankle and strained back are my badges of honour.
My daily walks are never boring as I almost always encounter four-legged companions on my way, adding an element of the unexpected, to my journey. The footpath sometimes doubles as a parking lot for the carefree bovines. On poorly lit stretches, I have often stepped on their generous offerings and have sometimes been honoured by an impromptu spray of 'gau mutra', as it gracefully cascaded down to Mother Earth. The canines appear in two avatars - the stray variety that one is always wary of and the pet variety led by a walker but can catch you unawares and pounce on you for a cuddle or a pat. Being hopelessly ailurophilic, I however, welcome feline intervention and enjoy the occasional catwalk on the sidewalk, by a tabby or a tuxedo.
The speeding two wheeler riders often treat the footpath like a race track, while winding their way through the maze. Pedestrians be damned. Their mission is to get to pole position before the signal turns green.
As dusk settles, the pavements transform into open-air food courts with makeshift seating arrangements, churning out culinary delights to suit every pocket and palate. With scurrying rodents and winged intruders for company, hygiene takes a backseat. The sensory onslaught is overwhelming. The aromatic symphony of flowers, fruits and street food combined with the grime and dust pose a serious challenge to my olfactory nerves. The cacophonous honking, animated street vendors and quibbling customers, are a test of my tolerance to auditory assault. My sixth sense, honed to perfection over the years, can detect a crater or dog poop from a mile. I have mastered the art of artfully sidestepping the obstacles in my path.
Come festive season and Lord Ganesh and his mother Gowri take up residence on the pavement in myriad hues and sizes. Divinity sharing space with humanity has to be the high point of mutual co-existence.
As the pedestrian walks the walk, I salute the spirit of this valiant crusader, who marches on, with no expectations from the civic authorities for happier days in the near or distant future. When I return home unscathed after my daily adventure, I heave a sigh of relief and say a silent prayer for the safety of senior citizens and the physically challenged, traversing these treacherous terrains. Tomorrow is another day.
Latha Raghuram