S Ramaswamy,a 60-something autowallah,is preparing to return to Chennai. After 35 years of doing odd jobs — he was a clerk at a newspaper company and a salesman at a milk parlour — in Bangalore,the retired Tamil wants to return to his roots. Why,I ask him,as he drives me from Ulsoor Lake to MG Road. Because Bangalore is not the same anymore, he says,in flawless,if accented,English.
Born in Trichy and married to a girl from Chennai,Ramaswamy,like many of his generation,moved to Bangalore in search of a job. He could not become the restaurant manager he wanted to,but he made sure his children did well. I read the papers. I do yoga. I watch Tamil serials on TV. And I drive my auto for not more than three or four hours a day. But my son doesnt like it. He is a software engineer with Wipro, he says with pride. His engineer son is now planning to move to the US,while his younger son,an employee at Tesco in Whitefield — the Gurgaon of Karnataka — is headed to Poland for training. Finally,I can move on, Ramaswamy says.
Bangalores overcrowding has encouraged people with a little money to invest in farms on the outskirts of the city. The young working population — read techies — now aspires to a progressively rural life it has never known. Today,the norm is,get married,buy a house,buy a bigger car,and then buy a farm, says S V Srikanth,a systems architect who spends his weekends at his Hosur farm. The mantra is to make enough money to retire early and lead a simple life on the farm.
If this is any indication,in the coming years Bangalore could see more departures and arrivals than any other metro in India.
