The first thing that strikes you about Mangalore even before you deplane is the deep red soil, the magnificent view of the never-ending coastline and the heady mix of blue and the green that only the sea can reflect.
A sneak preview into paradise is brought to an almost unwanted halt as the plane changes its course abruptly and manages to find an air-strip in what seems like an unending expanse of coastal greenery. Even the airport in its attempt to co-exist with nature is perched perilously on a hill-top. The airport is refreshingly efficient albeit a bit small.
My guest house is almost an hour’s drive and I am excited at the prospect of a firsthand glimpse of the town which to me has till now be in a small dot on the western coast of our country. One of the most rewarding experience for any new-comer to a coastal city is the sheer joy of catching a glimpse of the ocean when you least expect it. I spend the first half off my journey craning my neck with this very purpose in mind, I have no such luck. My driver sensing how I feel remarks that we are atleast 20 kms off the general direction of the coast. Miffed, I sit back and try to concentrate on the more mundane things.
Most roads on the way seem to be under construction and bias is towards concrete. I encounter no working traffic lights. I attribute it to a lazy Sunday afternoon. I manage to sight an MG road and a Moti Mahal restaurant.... India’s most favourite names for a street and a restaurant respectively. The amazing thing throughout the drive is the absence of significantly prosperous or significantly not so well off areas. There are no slums to speak of and at first glimpse; it seems that the Mangaloreans enjoy a good standard of living. This of course is a testimony to the hard work and enterprise of the locals who took advantage of the Gulf employment boom.
In the evening, I go to the nearest beach which is the other end of the town... Panumbur... it’s the Mangalorean counterpart of Juhu... but thankfully its cleaner, less commercialized and substantially less crowded. I miss the sunset thanks to the good trains that blocks the only way to the beach. I am merely amused and attribute it to the idiosyncrasies of small town India. I make subsequent trips to this beach... but strangely miss the sunsets on every occasion. I do the usual tourist stuff and click snaps with gay abandon. In my attempt to capture the beauty around me forever, I later realise that I have missed it altogether.
In Mangalore, you are always surrounded by history. A small walk from the urban jungle and you could find yourself in an area known as Temple Square... and you could mistake yourself for being in Mahabalipuram, Thanjavur or Konark. At every other nook and corner are delightful little pre-colonial era cottages and pristine churches. In Mangalore, the new and old co-exist harmoniously. To my untrained eyes, there are glimpses of Goa or is it the imagination of a tired mind longing for a break.
On most days, I am busy with work and don’t get much time for sight-seeing. My impression about Mangalore is formed by what I see on the road to work and the people I meet. How a city travels, how it makes the outsiders feel, what it eats and how it treats its women says a lot about the city. Mangalore scores very highly on all these.
I use all possible modes of travel... the office, the city bus and the autos. All of them are refreshingly efficient. I am greatly impressed by the way natives have embraced Hindi. It’s the first sign towards making an outsider feel at home. The traffic of course is maddening at peak hours and the horns used by motorists here are significantly louder than anywhere else that I have gone.
At work, I am surprised by the refreshingly helpful nature of everyone around... I also notice that “Pai” and “Shetty” are the most popular surnames:)
Mangalore doesn't pretend to be anything that it is not... It may be a sleepy old town on the western coast... but it treats its citizens well... is a convenient and safe place... some sort of a family man's paradise......To some extent though it lives in the shadow of Bangalore. Most vernacular newspapers have more news items concerning its “prosperous” cousin. Mangalore to me means the much needed time for introspection... this is not a conscious effort but comes naturally... may be its the effect of the sea:)
The human mind usually sets off a trail of comparisons and judgements when confronted with something that is not routine. My stay in Mangalore is one such experience.
As I prepare for my journey back to Pune, I try to recollect the best of Mangalore...it’s not the unspoilt beaches that come to my mind, not the temples or the churches or the quaint by-lanes. I take with me the idea of a life much different from the one I currently lead, much simpler and certainly less complex. Mangalore then to me is not just a place.... but a way of life... I leave with the hope of keeping with me the solace and peace found here forever.
Like most small towns in India, Mangalore stands at the cusp of urban development.... One just hopes that is wise enough to learn the lessons from its counterparts across the country. A Mangalore on the map of India is any day better than another “prosperous” concrete jungle.
