Day 28. I parked near the construction mela like I do almost every day and peered over the edge. In a heartening show of solidarity, college students were pitching in to complete what trained, paid masons were struggling to do. They had even set up a helpdesk to explain the convoluted traffic plan to the public. Some pro-active Bangaloreans at last! Such a relief from the usual jaded, moaning lot!
Manipuri artists were creating sun-patterned frescoes along the walls. Painters were giving a final coat to the concrete. The errant bulldozer was smoothening out slopes in a calm, lobotomized manner. The wronged crane was nowhere to be seen. A group of 60-something gentlemen were standing atop the underpass, fingers pointing in every direction, giving a hapless supervisor a piece of their collective intellect:
"Allappa, hing craas aag katsi yen sukha bantu?" (But young man, like this crooked you build means what comfort has come?)
"Ishtu chikka bridge mel yenaiya madthiya? Shuttle-badminton aadthiyenu?" (On such a small bridge what lord you will do? Shuttle badminton playinga?)
"Haiyyo, yen katsthaaro, bidthaaro. Thale iddru upyogsalla saar ivru. Eega idara mel bussu, gissu, maNNu masi, ella band sikakond bitre devre gathi ."(Haiyyo, what they will build, what they will leave. Head is there also means they will not use sar. Now bus, giss and several similar sundry objects will come and get stuck on top of this means god is only recourse.)
"This is vy country has gaan for daags sar. Aal these peepal musht be lined up and shaat I tell you. "
"Sir ond nimisha, bande" (Sir, one minute coming), said the long suffering supervisor, and vanished into the underpass with the old biddies harumphing after him.
I studied the student helpdesk's thermocol plan (slightly soggy after a cloudburst), and noticed that my dancing fountain idea to entertain gridlocked commuters on the U-turn atop the underpass, was not included. I advised the student body to undertake installation activites immediately. Grim studently silence ensued. Nevertheless, I managed to get a fair idea of what the traffic plan is going to be, and this, I think is it (fountain optional):
But sob!!! All the action will be be over in a couple of days and I will miss it sorely! What on earth will I do now, without squint eyed supervisors, mad machinery and genteel crowds to blog about? Sniff!
I will therefore leave you with an ode composed in memory of the birth of the Cauvery Junction Magic Box Underpass, before I go away and cry myself to sleep:
You will help to crassu
The road without laassu.
Of your ingenious planu
I am a fanu
And so is my clanu.
So my magic baaxu,
Pull up your saacksu
Because you provide irrefutable proof that Benglur raacksu.