In the hustle, bustle, smoke, and dust, these reserved green spaces are like oases in the desert.
Bengaluru, once known as the Air Conditioned Green City, reels under pollution, dust, and weather change. Thank goodness for the rare strips of green they call the Parks in this once pristine city.
Bengaluru, June-September 2015
Before the day takes over, I yield to my guilty pleasure…. the morning walk in the neighborhood park. Jealously I guard this precious time before the routine becomes master.
The Park is a long patchwork of green between the main streets. Each strip has its own plantings. Asoka or Saraca Asoca trees make up the shade for one park. It’s known as the tree with no sorrows. Tied to the Buddhist king Ashoka, it’s said that the juice from the flowers of this tree can help uplift moods in depressed individuals. However, the Flame of the Forest trees dotted in between, create shock and awe with the mature canopies and the brilliant flora.
A host of other trees make up the green strips of land. Tamarind, decorative date and areca palms line the park neatly. Some months the parks light up with pinks, yellows, and reds, purples. Cassia, Gulmohur, silk trees, jacaranda, and several other trees with the unique leaf forms and branches create cathedrals above, allowing peeks of blue skies and cottony clouds. Stopping midway to do a pantheistic salutation to Ma Nature is an unstoppable urge for me. Watching the several yoga lovers around me, I’m not embarrassed to strike a tree pose mid path.
Gustav Hermann Krumbiegel, a German botanist brought in native plants from different countries, notably South America while planning several avenues in Bengaluru. He loved the city so much, that he lived here until his passing. There’s a road named for him near the famous Lalbagh. About the plantings he imported to Bengaluru, the city somehow has claimed them as her own with brilliant flora and verdant tops. It’s said that you can plant a walking stick in the fertile red dirt, and this sylvan city will make it sprout leaves.
The walking path is paved, and the walkers are a diverse lot. They come in all ages, and from different socio-economic strata.
Around the path vendors with carts hawk seasonal fruit, vegetables, greens, and flowers.
Every other day, a tempo arrives with fresh produce: beets with greens, carrots with tops, kohl rabi, okra, tomatoes, and greens. The fruits are the testimony of the changing season. When I landed this summer, carts groaned with the weight of mangoes. At departure time, it’s mostly pomegranates, custard apples and apples. Staple fruits, mostly bananas, jackfruits, and papaya are always a fallback. The dewy fresh-picked produce is a treat, and I have to remind myself to shop less, so I can shop often. Sometimes I finish up produce shopping before the walk and leave my bag with the vendor. I can with limited baggage, enjoy the walk.
Armed with my trusty music, smart device, shopping bag, and some rupees, I start the walk. The few weeks I have been here, I managed to make new friends, find some old mates, and see familiar faces of the regulars.
Get early to the park, and you cannot miss the Laughing Club members. They don’t mind looking a little different, as they laugh away their cares. It’s a sight to see them breathing in unison, with the mindful yet unfettered laughter, and their yogic exercises. Invariably, they are the older lot, who have cottoned on some wisdom, and unloaded all self-consciousness. It’s a benefit to them, that’s apparent, as they have been at it for nearly a decade or more.
There’s yoga in the park. It’s common to see several self-motivated individuals doing their own thing, while there are some group activities too. Then there’s an exercise coach with his regular student group who are into push-ups, weight training, and other core exercises.
The park has outdoor exercise machines. These are of course not motorized, happily this allows for the body to do the work. There is a leg press machine, an arm exercise machine, a twister, a side swing, an elliptical, and something that looks like the Arc Trainer. I love the swinging equipment, as these make me feel like a child. Exercising en plein air can be liberating. I shed all inhibitions and swing on the machines feeling my childhood return.
The three power walkers are basically led by the speed of Devi, and they have become my friends. I very occasionally join them, and converse between breaths with them. I enjoy doing my own thing instead of subscribing to one routine. So I join them for a couple of rounds and continue my way.
My pace is varied; one day music is my guide, and I have a slew of genres with different beats. I let these dictate my walking pace. Some other days, it’s more mindful walking. I take charge of bursts and stops. Then there’s the grateful walk. Gratitude for active limbs, for the park, for the fresh air, for the trees, for the overhanging leaves, for engaging all senses, and most of all, for the moment. I jump up and touch the leaves, or put my palm on the tree that stands there, acknowledging that it provides shade, purifies the air, and offers a calming green comfort. I don’t know if it’s the endorphins kicking in, but at that point in time, every living cell pulsates in the crystal-clear moment.
You never know what you will hear or see, or whom you will meet. There’s the young family into fitness that comes on weekends. Everyday, the older lady affected by a paralytic stroke, slowly rehabilitates herself. Initially, she had a male helper holding her hand, and now slowly she has progressed to walking alone with a cane. One lady sees me with a bag, and tells me not to carry so much baggage. “Be free, lose the bag,” she advises as she breezes past.
One day, I hear a simple mantra to life from a group of male buddies walking together. One friend summarized his group discussion succinctly. Healthy living is a combination of physical fitness, mental fitness, healthily connecting with people, and spiritual fitness. I had to say kudos my way to this free daily dose of wisdom again.
Then they turn me to their guru friend Dr. Anil Gupta, and he shares with me some expanded wisdom you can hear in the audio link.
After the walk, my last stop is the young coconut water. The vendor knows what gauge of coconut cream I like. He can unerringly pick the coconut I prefer based on the cream thickness and sweetness of water. How he does that, I’ll never know.
Uprooting oneself every year is not easy, but life sometimes is unpredictable. So like the mythical walking stick, it’s time to sprout leaves, cast shade, and put forth flowers wherever one is at any given moment.
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