‘A very peculiar color’ I thought, as I first set my eyes on the building. Little had I thought that this house would be home for almost 4 years, and that I’ll have the distinction of being the only person to have lived in each of the 3 floors. Now how this came about is a pretty interesting story, but for a different day. Here’s a quick recap of the some of the memorable aspects about this fluorescent green haven, the street and the city
- A fluorescent green haven
Mugged: Got mugged on the eve of Independence Day 2008, not too far from the house. I remember extricating myself from the situation and making a run for the safety of the house. The situation was more comical than dangerous but I’ll avoid presenting more details given my tendency to exaggerate the story 
- The crime scene, right under the lamp post.
Après Moi le Déluge: Had absent mindedly left the kitchen sink tap on at night, when the water supply was temporarily off. And I don’t know how I managed to place a utensil just in the right position for it to channelize the water to the kitchen floor, and subsequently to the entire house. We were woken up by a bemused landlord at dawn, only to realize that the house resembled a ship wreck and our street, a tributary of the Kaveri. Most of the morning was spent in mopping the floor and carrying most of the household goods to the roof for some sunshine.
Raat Gayi Baat Nahin Gayi: A drunken night where my role was that of an unsuspecting instigator, spectator and also a victim. Met with a few friends, who had an off day at the bar, and given that my pad was the closest, we descended here. There was some throwing up, some cleaning up and a lot of emotional junk. Luckily for me my flat mate was out of town, and he’ll never know the fate of his mattress, which I replaced without his knowledge.
The Street: The Rangolis, the chatter, the pretty people, two of my namesakes, lots of animals (resident and visitors) all make for a very vibrant street. Have made friends with the 3 stray dogs here, who share my sincere hope that the landlord’s prodigal cat will return some day.
- The missing cat
A Farewell Dinner: Had invited over our friends from the 2nd floor to a farewell dinner, one of them was leaving town. The scene was set and I felt like Julia Childs about to win over her guests with sumptuous food and my disarming manner. With the food on the burner, I rushed to their house to collect one of my utensils they had borrowed, locking the door behind me. The landlord was away, so the spare keys were out of reach. The flat mate was cruising on the Mysore road, and he mean-biked his way back mistaking the situation for a potential disaster (ie that there was gas leak and the house could blow up to bits). Meanwhile the guests and I sat at the staircase, at first in admiration of the aroma which wafted through the open windows, and then ruing at the ephemeral nature of a thing of beauty (in this case a promising meal).
- The guests on the staircase with our friendly street dog
People: I was lucky to have decent flat mates, neighbors and a decent landlord. Though he undid some of the good will a few months ago, on my last day in Bangalore he redeemed himself beautifully. My recently married ex-flat mate, his better half and I had dropped in at the landlord’s. We were welcomed with genuine warmth by their entire family, and we shared the nostalgia of the last 3.5 years. But what won me over was that as soon as we were at their door, the landlady rushed into the house and returned with a ‘pooja ki thali’ to welcome the new bride, and presented her a ‘shagun.’ A simple gesture with a devastating effect
Posted by aditya nabial 
