Last night’s rain was rough and lasted hours. Spirited thunder and lightning accompanied it, forcing us awake, keeping us awake. We heard the distribution transformer down the street explode twice. The power went out with the first blast, and we were surprised that the transformer had meat left to blow up a second time. This morning, I stepped out a half-hour late for my walk, at 5:30, because snakes are a real threat in the neighbourhood and I didn’t want to step on one unwittingly, on wet streets with no streetlights.
Yesterday’s red patches of the large and juicy spathodea had been washed away by flooding brought on by the downpour. The streets looked almost like their cousins in better-managed countries. A good start to the day.
But the air has turned greyer than the sky. The punishing rain has softened the streets, and constant traffic has skinned the asphalt and ground it to gravelly powder and dust for wheels to whisk into the air, all day long. You’re all right if you are in a car. It must be terrible for motorcyclists. As regards pedestrians, Bangalore stopped respecting them a long time ago.
Such are the sights and sounds of my city these days and, on top of them, it is a time of festivals of all faiths, and some party or the other are setting off firecrackers every evening. They’re also taking out colourful processions (with Bollywood and Sandalwood music) on streets that have no room for a lone pedestrian. I should be happy for them who are rejoicing: There’s invigorated bhajan and āzān, delivered over loudspeakers, early morning and late nights. And I am religious myself. Whatever the faith, God is being worshipped. But to be honest these amplified affirmations of devotion are a bother, even if they’re musical, and I’d rather they performed their rituals in their homes as I do in mine.
In such a state of mind, I was browsing on my Mac just now, and an Osho video caught my attention, in which he preaches, If small things are bothering you then your attitude is the problem. Accept everything, he says, and you will observe your breathing, without needing to force yourself to watch it, and then you will experience deep relaxation. Accept all that you see and all that you hear. And, he says, you must note the smells, and surrender to them also.
I have enjoyed occasional sermons of this compelling speaker on video. He has the eyes and the composure and the delivery (and the flowing white beard) to lock you in and believe every word he says. With quiet force, the man argues that smell has been repressed for centuries and therein lie the reasons for the misery of man.
Whereas I, I’ve always believed that smell is quite rightly ignored.
To inhale Bangalore and to accept it, to correct my attitude. O, Osho, who was never born and who never died! Who only visited planet Earth for a time. I’ll heed you through this week and sniff at our city in this gloomy season. Please, may I suffer no side effects.