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Kuala Lumpur, third floor outlook, pink-tiled window ledge, Pasar Seni McDonald’s. "Baru" (try) "Ayam Goreng Classic McD Percik": author reading tray placemat, as Michael Bolton engorges the soul of Islam with his croonful Muzak tunes. Across the way: a chartreuse building front, outlined in yellow pilasters and architrave. A group of schoolgirls has arrived in their white hooded, blue smocked, navy skirted uniforms, only their Nike running shoes signaling regime change. A grey "Intrakota 37" bus, also blue skirted, pauses in the narrow street of this market district, above which rise progressively the traditional Arabic volutes of public building, the gables of older apartment dwellings, in mauve, in pink, in pale blue, the bland grey of parking garage, the modern distant high rise of Bank Rakyat.

More girls have arrived, friends of their fifteen-year-old classmates, two of the new arrivals in designer jeans, in many-pocketed khakis. Behind her back one tugs at the point of her head shawl. Apart from the other girls they have now taken seats at a fixed table, one of its stools in orange, one in aquamarine. Behind them, Ronald McDonald waves a yellow hand, as he stares out abstractly in clown-painted lips and nose, carmine hair, striped sleeves. In the street stroll three bareheaded Malay girls, followed by a swarthy Indian male of fourteen, his pink-billed baseball cap incompletely covering curly reddish locks. A heavy-set middle-aged woman, white shawl over robin’s egg top over black pants, glances into the merchandise display at 1 + 1, whose multiple paper signs read "Cheaper than Wholesale."

The fencing along the sidewalk, intended to keep pedestrians out of the narrow market street, has been painted gold, its railings black. In a black-collared, red "vodafone" shirt a youth teases two of the schoolgirls adjacent to author, then pauses to gaze out the window reflectively. "Happy birthday to you," he turns and chants with two of his confederates for the benefit of a darling Muslim girl. For the moment the relentless Muzak has ceased, allowing naturally melodious Malay to waft over the grey and white tiled parterre of this older building. Only recently globalized, its pink pillars are capped in salmon, its ceiling hung with repetitive advertisements for more localized adaptations of Malaysian dishes.

Just out of school at 2:45, the lovely girls are happier than a Happy Meal. "The good times, the good taste . . . of McDonald’s," the lyrics recommence.

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"Bank of Tokyo-Mitsubishi (Malaysia)" lobby, another air-conditioned venue, maroon velvet ropes draped from silver stanchions aligned on its grey marble floor. "Sila Beratur / Please Q Up," read instructions, repeated in Chinese. Arterial red neon numerals on a grey board display current exchange rates. At mid afternoon the bank’s clientele is sparse, our only potential drama whether or not author will be allowed to remain at his task. A guard takes seat nearby, nervously wiggling his blue-uniformed leg, as a white woman in casual attire fills out her deposit form at a Plexiglas stage surrounding the lobby’s sole supporting pillar. Its base has been covered with lively cartoon figures advertising "A Py Deepavali." Above, a clock is stuck at 1:32, "no spare parts available," the guard explains to a patron.

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Fafasan Enterprise book stall outdoor display of magazines: Wanita (Malay women’s journal); Bintang (movie stars, two out of four in baseball caps); Kisah Benar (movie magazine); Majalah Cermin (political comment, a picture of Mahathir on its cover); Sarina (an astrological magazine); Galaxie (an English-language fashion journal, the November issue featuring "Westlife: Up Close and Personal"); Anjung Seri (home decoration); remaja ("Sensasi, Glamor & Informatif"); Mangga (a romance magazine with "personals"); The Edge (Malaysia) (a "business and investment weekly"); Cine Fashion (from the looks of the cover, an Indian publication); Maskulin (men’s fashion magazine); i ("Get Wet & Wild Lip-Gloss FREE"); Indian Movie News (its text in Tamil); URTV; Air Fleet; Ibu (a women’s magazine); several Chinese tabloid weeklies (their English titles: Powerful News; The One Weekly; Sports Focus).

Newspapers: The Malay Mail ("The Paper that Cares"); Harian Metro; New Straits Times (Singapore); Berita Harian; Sin Chew Daily; Nanyang Siang Pau; along with the more scandalous Mingguan Perdana.

From the proprietors of this cigarette/candy/soft drink/magazine/newspaper stand, all displaced Madrasis, author learns that thirty per cent of Malaysians are ethnic Indians, an even greater number ethnic Chinese, that seventy per cent of the population speaks English. Most of the publications on sale here are nevertheless in Malay.

The skies have darkened. It begins to sprinkle. A large arcade protects the magazines.

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Late afternoon mall tour, followed by seated observation. It has rained quite hard, as it rains every day, one is told, during monsoon season. The atmosphere has cleared and become more sufferable, but retreat into air-conditioned space is still preferable to remaining in the downtown street scene, where no bench presents itself to accommodate author’s laptop. Accordingly, he situates himself at a table outside a bakery on the second of the mall’s three floors, as the denizens of Kuala Lumpur mount and descend its broad staircases, pausing on ample platforms to regard themselves.

A Malay stall crammed with carved wooden objects displays products from Thailand, Laos, Burma, India, China and Malaysia itself, embracing the motifs of Hindu, Muslim, Buddhist (Mahayana, Theravada), animistic and modern myths. Taken together it constitutes a bracing multiculturalism. In turn other stores are run by ethnic Chinese, ethnic Indians, other Southeast Asians. "Sawasdee" sits alongside "Jade World" across from "Kedai Batik Faruzzi." Native products are by far the most colorful, charming, unpredictable. Malaysia, it would seem, is a land of polite delights.

On the staircase balcony rises a fork and a spoon, the former ten feet high, the latter shorter, bent as though in feminine modesty. "Free Smell," reads a sign above the baker’s aromatic oven. A youth walks past, a red cup of coffee steaming in stencil on the front of his grey tee shirt. On the second landing an elevator door opens to reveal a mirrored interior. Three girls in yellow, orange and purple blouses, scarves respectively in white, cream and brown, stroll hand in hand. A pensive college girl in white from tip to toe pauses to study colorful scarves. "Centre" says the only word of a partially visible sign. A boy in red-laced black basketball shoes peers at author’s computer screen, his shirt front reading "Engineering / Mission." Smile begets smile. The ethnic tensions for the moment all lie beneath the surface. Like the dark green-bordered light green store and its cream-bordered yellow counterpart, compatibility rules the day.

A beautiful girl in white hood, Levis, brown arms and an even darker face has chosen a black shirt whose white text begins "NASCAR." At the railing she is joined by two friends, one in black-billed white baseball cap, the other in bareheaded elegance, a large silver Rolodex pushed high above her dark wrist.

Madison Morrison

Upmarket Bangalore, Hotel Broadway: author’s first meal at moderately priced restaurant since registration at Rs.300-a-night Gupta’s Boarding and Lodge. His thirsty indulgence consists of ordering coffee and water and lassi to go with butter chicken and roti. The decorous dining hall is decorated with earth colors: rust/rouge/black/tan tablecloth, matching rust napkins. In keeping with South Indian practice the plates are metallic and shaped for finger usage, though silverware has also been provided. Author’s luxurious two cups of sweetened coffee arrive in a thermos, his lassi (curd drink) in a glass, his mineral water in a plastic bottle.

Now the "butter chicken" arrives in a rust-rouge sauce with side plate of chopped onions/ other condiments. A young waiter in blue-black hair and moustache, dark brown skin, folds rust napkins by holding them up to chest-level against his shalwaree. The Karnataka skies are scumbled in dark grey cloud. Onset of monsoon season coincides with Deepavali, the Festival of Light. Over the windows rattan shades have been drawn down, wicker-shaded lights hanging above individual tables left unlit. Overhead, a rouge-tiled ceiling slopes from fifteen feet at the restaurant’s interior to the top of air conditioning units abutting its windows.

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The Festival of Light—Deepavali—is likely to turn into a festival of darkness for seven people including five children, most of whom face the possibility of losing their vision. In the case of three victims, an eye each has been surgically removed (Deccan Herald, November 6, 2002). Pick any Gents Shoes / Pick any Ladies Chapal. Tragically, four of the victims sustained injuries when crackers lighted by others hit them accidentally. The Cellar Top Hair Dresser. All seven victims. Time Land (a watch shop). Have been admitted. Suitall (men’s clothing). Over the last two days. Body and Sole ("Foot Wear"). At Minto eye hospital in Bangalore. Olympus: Focus on Life (Mysore Photo Emporium).

The patients are: Nasruddin (6) of Shantinagar in Tumkur. Forever Yours Orient Fans; Perfect General Stores; Liberty Collections. Manjunath (9) of Amrutahalli. Old Monk XXX Rum; Pearl Times; My Dream Pub-Bar. Vinay Kumar (13) of Chikkanahalli village in Mulbagal taluk of Kolar district. Hotel Himalaya, Hotel Hindustan, Master Tailoring. Priya (15), daughter of a daily wage labourer in Laxmipur near Gandhinagar. Monsoon Express Travel; Bombay Dyeing; Om Shiv Recreation Association. Mahesh (21) from Allalsandra near Yelahanka in Bangalore. Sapna Book House; Live-In Jeans; Peter England Fancy Apparels. And Narendra Kumar (15). Chanceless Sports. And Umashankar (22) of Srirampura. Government Silk House; Ultimate Collection; Paradise.

Nasruddin (6). Pan America Shirts & Trousers. And Manjunath (9). Attitude: Carry It in Your Bag. Sustained eye injuries when a cracker lit by somebody else hit them in the eyes as they were walking on the road. Burma Bazaar, Bangkok Plaza, Dubai Bazaar. They were immediately rushed to the hospital. Admire: The New Look of Fashion; VIP Frenchie Briefs, He and She Foot Wear. One eye each of Priya. Classic International. And Mahesh. Foresight: Computer Horoscopes. And Vinay Kumar. Silly Point: The Sport Shop; Veg Fast Food; PlayWin. Has been removed by surgery. Asiatic Stationers. Priya is a Standard X student in Sevashram School. Olympic Hair Dressing Saloon. She was injured. Status Bar and Restaurant. When a rocket. Hotel Fish Land. Hurled by a boy from her neighbouring house. The Catholic Syrian Bank. Hit her in the eyes. Venus Plaza: Futuristic Shopping Centre. As she was returning home from school. The Crocodile Gallery. While she has lost one eye, her vision in the other eye too is blurred. A. Gopi Prakash: High Court Advocate. Mahesh (21) sustained eye injuries when the bomb he lit inside a coconut shell exploded. Rawa IT Solutions. The impact of the explosion was so much that one of his eyeballs popped out.

Meanwhile, a resident of Shamanna Garden, Saleem (28) is battling for life at Victoria Hospital with 60 per cent burns, after a "rocket" (fire cracker) accidentally hit him. Nalapads Hotel Broadway. The incident is said to have occurred in the evening. The light is dim but adequate. Byatarayanapura police have registered a case.

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At the end of the dining room, as waiters shuffle past, as three newly-arrived youths stare at author from adjacent table, a wood-carved fisherman in haut relief casts an actual net from an actual wooden fishing boat, elevated above the roiling mural sea and stationed beneath a swirling sky of spray-painted white, grey and blue configurations.

The bill arrives: Rs.171 (less than $US4). Author leaves a generous tip.

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K.G. Road rush hour scene: a cow heading up the railed median divider against full-throttle, full-throated traffic symphony. A lad tending her has been trapped on the other side of the divide and must alternately hop up on the median to poke at her with a stick and hop down to catch up with her. Picking up the pace, she trots on out of author’s purview.

Across the way stands a portion of Gupta’s Market: "metro fashion. retro prices.," reads its modern sign, black on backlit white; "megamart," another, whose second and third syllables have been separated by a "g," figured as a pocketbook, into "me" and "amart". Beneath this encompassing banner smaller fancy shops are clustered: "Anarkali Silks," "Sonata Software Solutions," "Titan," "Sai-Bin Silks," "Gurals Sarees."

Yellow-topped black-bottomed auto rickshaws sputter, cough, splutter along, rasping out their metallic horns against encroaching buses, bicycles, a white minivan, a red tractor returning to the city a wagon filled with sleeping workers. Saturated neon burns into a dark smog-grey sky: All is brightly colorful: "Hotel" (red) "Sharada" (blue); illuminated storefronts; a lurid movie advertisement, whose principal figures rise four, five, six stories above the square. "Info at your fingertips. Only from Hutch," reads a sign covering the rails of a pedestrian crossover.

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Phnom Penh: "Om Kotak Mahindra / Life Insurance." It’s all about economic diplomacy and turning the decade-old "Look East" Indian policy into a "Do East" policy. "The Raymond Shop" (a chain store). With an eye on this, Prime Minister Vajpayee proposed an ambitious Free Trade Area (FTA) with South East Asian nations during the first-ever India-ASEAN summit on Tuesday (The Times of India, November 6, 2002). "Santosh Textiles / Mysore Silk Showroom."

Also taking note of the menacing shadow of terrorism in the region, Vajpayee called for "sharing of intelligence and information to jointly counter the scourge." In the neighborhood author has now made the acquaintance of: (1) the young man in tortoise shell glasses who pours morning coffee at the vegetarian restaurant.

The FTA proposal, with an implementation period of 10 years, was generally welcomed by the ASEAN nations during the summit, said Yashwant Sinha, External Affairs Minister. (2) the woman who sells him his midafternoon bag of Lays Sour Cream and Onion Potato Chips. India has proposed the FTA to gradually pave the way for becoming a full-fledged member of ASEAN, especially since SAARC is making no real progress in resolving Indo-Pak political differences. (3) Vijay Chendra, attendant at the nearest Internet café, who today, in a friendly gesture, gave author his email address. By becoming a close partner of the only existing effective Asian trading bloc, which has a combined GDP of $737 billion, India will be able to deal in the future on better terms with powerful regional blocs like the European Union and North American Free Trade Area. And (4) the family selling sarees on this side of K.G. Road, who last evening presented him with a box of sweets in celebration of Deepavali.

Moreover, apart from creating the much-needed economic and strategic space in the entire Asia-Pacific region, India is keen to keep up with rival China, which has far outstripped her in the economic development race to carve out newer markets and to wield greater political influence in the region. For such a big city, Bangalore’s denizens are remarkably friendly toward the unknown foreigner who has suddenly appeared with neither money nor business connections. Significantly, ASEAN and China have already normalised an FTA arrangement scheduled to be implemented over a 10-year period. Once he has recovered from his 24-hour journey, he is hoping to explore Bangalore’s yet more complex modern sector. "We are seeking to accelerate trade and investment flows between India and ASEAN through enhanced cooperation with the ASEAN FTA," said Vajpayee.

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No sooner has Deepavali ended than Ramazan begins. Islam is a religion, which cares for human relationships and shares the sufferings of fellow beings. Among the shopkeepers of author’s neighborhood, a good many seem to be Muslim. This is evident also from the fact that after entering into its fold through Kalima-e-Tayyiba. At the sweets stall this morning, such was the case. Among the four fundamental tenets of Islam, two of them, Fasting and Zakath, are dedicated to and concerned with the mankind. In the saree and silk shops, yesterday as well as this evening, he encounters people of the Muslim faith. Fasting is obligatory in the month of Ramazan, which draws its holiness from the fact that the Holy Book of Quran, a source of guide to the mankind, was descended on earth from Heaven in this month through the Prophet Mohammad (Peace be upon Him), the last Prophet of Islam, from Allah, the Almighty. Both times he is invited to take a seat for extended conversation centering on family, on occupation, on place of origin but neither on politics nor religion.

When he asks the son of a dealer in women’s clothes (not the saree but the chatcha and the rangaree,) if he will follow a career in business, author is reminded that this is a question of God’s will. Fasting not only teaches us self-control over passions for evil desires but also makes us feel the intensity of the hardship of the deprived for daily basic needs of living. This merchant, after other conversational topics have been politely exhausted, proves especially eager to tell of a new healer who has made his presence felt in the region. It develops sympathy for those who are not able to meet their two square meals. Upon a sufferer from cardiac disease he has performed a miracle. Quarreling, backbiting, telling lies are strictly prohibited during fasting, which deeply hurt the feelings of the affected people. Its details are recounted. Though on other days too these evil practices are forbidden for any Muslim. At an assembly of 4000 devoted admirers and medical practitioners he has taken a simple pair of kitchen scissors and excised the heart. Fasting provides a mode of training to eschew such evil habits. The patient, who hitherto had been unable to walk, was told to arise and go. Fasting also promotes the passion for patience, humbleness and sense of submission to the Creator.

His heart returned to its cavity completely healed, he set out on foot, no mark of the incision visible. A small portion of wealth, left accumulated in the previous year, is to be distributed among the deserving people, thus creating a sense of gratitude among the rich and a sense of gratefulness among the under-privileged towards the Almighty. All those who have performed their spiritual duties towards the Creator and the created in this month and have accomplished the mission ordained upon them, have got every right to celebrate Eid-ul-Fitr, as a day of successful culmination, but of course, not before paying Fitra, another obligatory gesture of kindness towards the poor (The Hindu, November 7, 2002). This healer is reputed to have solved the problems of cancer victims and AIDS sufferers as well. The clothing merchant’s own son has been cured of heart trouble.

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EXPATS ON THE BACK (The Economic Times, November 8, 2002). Seventy years ago there was Larsen and there was Tourbro—two Danish engineers who quit their jobs while on a posting in Mumbai with a big-time transnational firm. They decided to turn entrepreneurs and start a company—which grew to become one of India’s most highly valued conglomerates.

Cut to the present. Since 11:00 o’clock, when I read your email with its suggestions as to what I should do to solve my problem, I have spent five hours with two computer experts. Indian business territory is once again being cased by dozens of new-generation Larsens and Toubros. I copied down the settings of the local machine, as you suggested, then asked the waitperson at the expensive Internet café on Mahatma Ghandi Road whom I might ask to help me. Former corporate executives from Britain, France, Australia and Italy are convinced that India is the big new entrepreneurial opportunity. He directed me to a guy about 45 years old, named Peter Prem, who runs an Internet café of his own and a print shop. In the globalized knowledge economy, they’re building upon international experience, leveraging their knowledge and brazenly hard-selling their expatriate connections to rope in business for fledgling enterprises. Peter was unbelievably friendly and helpful, interrupting his printing business for four hours to work on my computer. None of them wants to go back home.

Within an hour or so we had managed, through phone conferences with the local AT&T office, to connect to their Bangalore server. Francis Wacziarg first came to India as a backpacker fresh out of business school and returned soon after as a commercial attaché to the French consulate in Mumbai. The problem is that in India one can only use attglobal by itself to reach other addresses in India. Four years later, he shifted base to Delhi, where he was chief of Banque National de Paris. The Indian government will not allow any foreigner to operate a server in India. When he quit and launched out on his own, he took the path most familiar to executives with the entrepreneurial itch: he became a consultant.

So, after I had connected and waited for authentication, after I sent a message, I was told that I was "unauthorized" to do so. Initially set up to aid Indo-French joint ventures, the private company that bore Wacziarg’s name ultimately became a successful trading house, importing French wine, cheese, perfume and supplying leather goods, fabrics and garments to major European retail chains. As the inevitable surplus accumulated, Wacziarg took the next logical step, the one that is likely to remain the 60-year-old’s main claim to fame. In 1986 he bought the Neemrana Fort in Rajasthan from Maharaja Rajinder Singh and, along with friend Aman Nath, set about restoring the property and converting it into a hotel. It took another hour to figure out what the problem was. Today, Neemrana Hotels Pvt Ltd has eight properties in Rajasthan, Maharashtra and Pondicherry, and Wacziarg is an hotelier of some repute.

In 1990 he received Indian citizenship, the culmination of a three-decade love affair with the country. The AT&T person kept suggesting that I make a long distance call to Singapore and connect there. "I first tried getting citizenship in 1984 but was refused. I didn’t need it for my business, since I already had the necessary permissions. For me, it was an emotional issue. I felt a sense of homecoming the very first time I came to India 33 years ago," he says. Needless to say, I was not about to do so. Indeed, for most expatriate entrepreneurs, the decision to stay on in India is as much emotional as rational. Some fall in love with the country’s colourful culture, its exotic spirituality—or, more often, its beautiful women.

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Finally we figured out that in India you must have a vsnl account or another newer Indian account to which you first connect and from there connect to attglobal. This procedure will work either for connecting by cable at an Internet café or for direct dial-up. But now the drama began: it took Peter, constantly on the phone to AT&T, two more hours to configure my attglobal settings, but even so I couldn't get through. Finally he sent a boy out to purchase 25 hours of Internet time from a company called Now. Then he spent another hour on the phone with the Now representative trying to get their information to configure properly.

When Peter despaired, we had to ask the Now representative to come over. In about 45 minutes he managed to configure my computer so that my mail would go to Now and on to attglobal. I immediately downloaded 30 emails, but found that I couldn't send. This required another half hour of reconfiguration. I watched every bit of this being done, but I'd give myself about one chance in a hundred of repeating what it took these two computer experts five hours to accomplish. When I get back to Taipei, I will have to ask you to undo everything and return my computer to its normal settings. I suppose that will take at least another hour.

Is this madness, or what?

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HIRE AND NOW. Outing to Bangalore’s Windsor Manor Sheraton. SHRIMP DUMPING CHARGES MAY HIT AID FLOW TO INDIA. Author situates himself in Irish Bar, where the menu advertises Guinness Ale for Rs.170 a glass (offer declined). INDIA TO TAP US E-BOOKS OUTSOURCING MARKET. Over dim mantelpiece, an assemblage of expensive garage-sale English provender: two silver candle-sticks in the shape of Corinthian columns; a blue-and-white Qing dynasty vase; a decorated silver bucket (Dionysian grape motif); a deep Chinese soup tureen turned on its side to reveal view of English village painted in its deep-blue porcelain interior; an ornately figured, silver-framed mirror. AIR TODAY, GONE TOMORROW.

Above the silver-framed mirror, the TV monitor shows India vs. West Indies at cricket, score 240-4. Silk maharaja-turbaned black-skinned waitperson, white gown, green gold-bordered cummerbund, stands with handheld communicator behind his back, enjoying the silent broadcast. On the wall opposite, all sails are "go" off Kilkenny. Assistant manager in double-breasted blue suit too large for his five-foot frame enters, approaches table but defers to author’s activity.

KNOWLEDGE MANAGEMENT IS POWER. As modernized Limerick/Tipperary/Sligo folk songs waft over us, waitperson Raijan tells author that this is the first Irish pub in India. Parlis Kumar, in white dhoti, white jacket and sash (angarastram) suggests that author should wear South Indian clothing. Bill Gates on India vs. China: "Excuse me, sir," asks Raijan, "What is your favorite sport?" "China is definitely the one to look toward; after all, these global jobs will move around to the country that does them best." Conversation turns to American football, basketball, baseball. For the moment cricket is in eclipse.

WEB SERVICES SPACE IS NEW, BUT RIVALS FEAR MICROSOFT (all headlines from The Economic Times, November 8). Meanwhile, through-view into all-white terrace, overarched in the manner of the great European glass exhibition halls. (Ahmedabad, Chennai, Hyderabad, Kolkata, Mumbai, New Delhi.) Besareed wait personnel, chefs in tall hats, a western-uniformed hostess stride by. Bill Gates on Whether an Indian Can be CEO of Microsoft: Virtually no clientele have taken the bait. "I think there’s a definite possibility of an Indian heading Microsoft someday in the future." Author has ordered mushrooms and, for the benefit of Raijan, proudly pronounces himself "vegetarian." "Brahmins do not eat mushrooms," Raijan retorts.

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Bangkok. Marking a major change in foreign policy, Prime Minister Atal Behari Vajpayee on Friday said, for the first time, that there was a "healthy competition" between India and China. Vajpayee’s statement assumes significance, especially following Yashwant Sinha, External Affairs Minister, who had categorically said on several occasions that India was not competing with China. The statement was made in the context of India’s "me-too" policy of setting up a free trade area with ASEAN over the next 10 years a day after China had done so.

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Madison Morrison

Author by auto rickshaw, 9:30 pm, to check out the hot new band in town, which is playing at The Park.hotel. Bangalore rockers Thermal and a Quarter revive an exclusive live experience. The wallah wants twice the normal rate due to the late hour. For years Bangalore has craved the music that was so intrinsic to its cultural fabric. We careen through broad but still dusty, underlit avenues to arrive circuitously at Trinity Circle on M.G. Road. Where they could be themselves, chill out and listen to the music they love most, playing live in their midst (The New Indian Express, November 9, 2002).

Looking forward to a whole spectrum of moods and a rousing, energy-driven set from the new album "Jupiter Café." At the gate the foreigner in proper attire (polo shirt, khakis) has no difficulty gaining entrance. Bangalore’s favourite music by Bangalore’s favourite performers gently blended with "thermaled" cover of Sting, Pink Floyd, Dire Straits, The Beatles, Cat Stevens, Steely Dan. Inside the gate, cars of the daddies of rich kids fill the court.

Entry is by invitation only, so make sure you invite yourself over. The band itself is a little disappointing: heavy on guitar, light on imagination. Passes are available at Pecos, Sound Options, Habit. Naïve and jocular, the lead singer engages in social repartee with his well-heeled audience, who have soberly, modestly seated themselves on the carpeted floor of a small annex. Music World, Planet M and Calypso. After 20 minutes author departs, engaging a new auto rickshaw wallah who wants twice again the earlier rate but at last agrees (having been walked away from) to a fair price. .

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The Asian Age (Weekend Edition, Bangalore, Sunday, November 10, 2002), BACK IN FOCUS. Slip [sic] disc seems to be a growing problem among actresses these days. Wonder why? Bipasha Basu is resting it out at Leelavati Hospital in Bandra to get her back in action. Doctors have told her that the problem arose because of too much stress. Bipasha has just returned from Pondicherry, where she was shooting for Jism with John Abraham. Actress Reshmi Ghosh has returned from Mauritius with a slip disc. She was shooting with Milind Soman and Riya Sen for Saazish. And we all know that Milind is quite capable of handling two girls at the same time. Hope the slip disc is not the result of manhandling!

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Lakshmi Gopalswamy is a Bangalore-based Malayalam actress. Her debut film Aray-annagalude Veedu fetched her the Kerala State Award. Apart from that, she is an accomplished Bharatanayam dancer. She shares her likes and dislikes with Lakshmi Gopal, interviewer for The Bangalore Age in its cultural supplement, "artrageous":

You love . . . Straightforwardness. As a populist gesture in 1997 the government of Punjab ordered the state-owned utility to stop charging farmers for the power that runs their irrigation pumps. Now the government has been forced for lack of funds to reinstate the charges.

You hate . . . Selfishness. "This house, these buildings, everything you see is pledged to the banks," complained Baldev Singh Mianpur, 50, who runs one of Punjab’s farm unions and also grows wheat, rice and vegetables on 10 carefully tended hectares near here.

Your worst nightmare . . . That I’m on stage and blank out. "Besides," he added, "We were paying for electricity before, but neither the quality nor the supply was reliable."

Your favourite singer . . . Haariharan. While India’s liberalization efforts have spurred some success stories, notably in the software industry, its economy continues to be hobbled by trade barriers, poor infrastructure, interest-group politics and bureaucratic resistance.

Your favourite movie . . . Breakfast at Tiffany’s and Umrao Jaan. "Americans hesitate to invest in India," said Robert Blackwill, the U.S. ambassador, "because of uncertainty over India’s economic reforms."

Your favorite play . . . "Phantom of the Opera: a Musical." Part of the Indian government’s resistance to market-oriented reforms of the power system stems from genuine concern about the effect of higher electricity rates on the poor.

Your favorite sport . . . Soccer. But it also reflects the clout of key constituencies, notably farmers, who are among the largest beneficiaries of power subsidies.

Your favourite book . . . Seagull and Alchemist. Punjab is India’s breadbasket.

Your favorite cuisine . . . Thai. A vast expanse of wheat and rice fields lapping at the foothills of the Himalayas.

You regret . . . If I had shed three kilos sometime ago, my career could have been better. It is administered here in Chandigarh, a pleasant, park-like city 112 kilometers northwest of New Delhi designed a half-century ago by the Swiss-born architect Le Corbusier (The International Herald Tribune, November 8, 2002).

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A butterfly, pale and quick, flits above the courtyard’s trellis, on which three plantations of "Creepy Charlie," says a gardener, have managed to create a full canopy. The lush, expansive, elegantly planned and executed courtyard, the manager informs us, was instituted in 1992. The lively gardener has treated author to the names of the plants that he is watering, along with many more that he routinely tends.

On the wooden stanchions supporting the trellis have been pinned Mexican sashes in carmine, forest green, pistachio, orange, sea blue, white and purple. Behind author, on the arcade’s tiled floor, lounges a comically lazy ceramic Mexican in a real straw sombrero; he gazes out past two regal stone elephants. In the foreground, before the trellised restaurant space, cacti bristle atop a suave surf of Liliturf. To the right begin terraced hedges of Alfania, Algoma and Sealing Wax Palm, behind them a Bird of Paradise plant.

Overhead: a tree "too big" in the gardener’s words, so big, in fact, that the hotel’s architectural plan had to be modified to accommodate it, at the cost of "many many money," says the manager, who had earlier cast aspersions on the gardener’s English. Through its manifold branches are visible the hotel’s staggered balconies, all fringed in lavender Lantana, some accentuated with tufts of orange-red Exira. White railings add a reassuring touch.

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The Bangalore of old used to look down with genteel snobbery at what it viewed as the glitz of Bombay, the power of Delhi, and the intellectual pretensions of Madras and Calcutta. Today it vies with Bombay in commerce, and with Madras, Calcutta and Delhi in lifestyle (Maya Jayapal, Bangalore: The Story of a City).

A senior French couple at table next to author clink their little mugs of beer. "Bonjour," they pronounce in uptalk tones to new arrivals, as they stand to greet these younger guests. After establishing his authority by extending his dominion in the surrounding area, Kempe Gowda gave himself the title "Yelahanka Nadu Prabu." At noon the skies are beautifully mottled, last night’s temperature drop requiring today a second shirt or in author’s case a summer suit. In the time the Yelahanka Nadu Prabhus ruled the region but were feudatories of the Vijanagara kings. Having now reseated themselves, the French couple is joined by a lively Indian lad of 8 or 9 in electric green cable-knit sweater with an emblem of Mickey Mouse over his heart. As author continues to survey the horticultural scene (Duranta surmounted by Euphorbia Caracasana, atop which a leafy copper plant unnamed), he eavesdrops on the boy’s impeccable French. Later they became vassals of the Marathas and the Muslims, as dictated by the exigencies of the times. (Out of this bank soars an Areca Palm, behind it all an abundance of Lord’s Lady Palms, Coconut Palms, indigenous deciduous trees along with native and western conifers.) In 1728 they were conquered by the ruler of Mysore, Dodda Krisina Raya Wodeyar, and their day was over.

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Two Japanese businessmen have arrived to take seats at a table in front of the tiers of hedge. It was about the same time that the Maratha leader, Shahji Bhonsle, Shivaji’s father, rose to prominence. One is dressed in a tennis shirt, the other in starched button down. Keen to make his court the center of Maratha art and culture, Shahji invited poets, musicians and saints to present their compositions at court. A Japanese-speaking waiter is summoned to take their order. Hearing of the intellectual and artistic ambiance of Bangalore, many noted artistes came from places as far as Nasik, including the poet Jayaram Pindye, who, on being introduced to Shahji, is said to have placed 12 coconuts before him to show that he could compose poems in 12 languages. The senior businessman takes out two spiral folders, one light blue, the other darker blue, and lays them on the table. Shahji also encouraged learned men to give discourses, thus making the court a focal point of intellectual activity. Two cups of coffee are presented with great ceremony: placemats, napkins, coffee spoons, cups and saucers, a goblet of ice water, a boat for sugar, a pitcher for cream, finally the aromatic pouring of Mocha-Java.

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Meanwhile to the left of author a middle-aged American woman has taken a seat against a backdrop of Philodendron Selloum, Dracaena Mahatma and Weeping Fig. In 1658 Shahji returned to Bangalore and remained there till his death. Briefly a tactful assistant manager engages her in readily comprehensible pleasantries. He died in 1664 after a fall from a horse while hunting at Basavapattna, on the banks of the Tungabhadra River. After she has asked if she might see a magazine or two, half a dozen are brought to her table.

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The development of the Bangalore Pettah as a commercial centre in the days of Haidar and Tipu is often overlooked. The francophone Indian lad has run off to play. The textile industry gave rise to subsidiary trade in the materials necessary for dyeing. Beneath his green cable-knit is a fashionable yellow undergarment, visible at the neck and now at the waist. Such as indigo, tamarind, soda, sugar and sesame oil. The American woman has also departed, leaving her unread stack of magazines behind. Turmeric, arsenic, lac, gum, wax and other items imported from places as far away as Madras. The balding elder Japanese, who had chosen to face hotel rather than garden, takes out a cigarette from a small gold case and lights it with a gold lighter.

Fath Mohammed had two sons, Shahbaz and Haidar Ali. The young Indian lad returns to reengage his adoptive parents in conversation. Haidar’s pride in Bangalore is evident from his efforts to improve the fort and town. Suddenly the threesome arises and leaves amid much French chattering to an uncomprehending waiter. With the help of the khilledar (commandant) of Bangalore, Ibraam Khan, his maternal uncle, he saw to it that the oval fort in the South was rebuilt with strong stone. The francophones are replaced by a middle-aged blond woman whose natively spoken English cannot at first be identified as British, Canadian or American.

He also constructed the Delhi Gate in the North and the Mysore Gate in the South. The single, clearly American, woman has been replaced by two lively Dutch girls, quite attractive, both in their mid twenties, both in ponytails. The other Bangalore landmark by which Haidar Ali is remembered is the Lalbagh Gardens. Politely they switch from Dutch to scarcely accented English, as an Indian waiter in black vest arrives, his tieless white shirt buttoned at the neck. Impressed by the Mughal gardens, especially by the masterpiece at Sira, he conceived the idea of Lalbagh in 1760. Having ordered, the girls survey and comment upon the Oberoi courtyard.

An account of his life by a Portuguese serving in one of his regiments reveals that Haidar would work in his garden in the evening with his concubines, each holding a nosegay of flowers. An Australian guy in his early thirties, pink-smocked, has been joined by two girls in their early twenties. Those from whom Haidar took a bouquet were the ones designated to keep him company that night. A blond Caucasian woman, having taken a seat at the table of the departed francophones, is now joined by a beautiful, longhaired Oriental girl in maroon shift, neither of their nationalities yet determinable. "Rim Naam" reads the wood-carved restaurant sign behind the Australian and his consorts, who have both lit cigarettes. The Oriental girl and her Caucasian friend having suddenly departed, the Australians pick themselves up from their less comfortable upright chairs on the terrace to settle into the vacated easy chairs to author’s right.

Dr. Buchanan’s most detailed comments were reserved for the weavers and dyers. The two girls are both full-bodied and sexually active. According to him the Puttuegara, or silk weavers, dyed much of their own fabric, using turmeric to make it yellow. Arm in arm two Chinese girls stroll down the arcade. Then they gave this silk to the Nilligara, who dyed it with indigo. The more fully breasted of the two Australian girls drags deeply on her cigarette and smiles at author. When washed by the Puttuegara in tamarind infusion the cloth turned a fine green. Now the other girl, in purple V-necked tee shirt and tight Levis, glances at him too. He lauded the ingenuity of the weavers and noted that, with encouragement, they were ‘capable of making very rich and elegant clothes of any kind . . .’ She too drags deeply on her cigarette, glancing at the Aussie’s beer belly. The two Dutch girls have arisen and departed. The Japanese businessmen ask for second cups of coffee. Author finishes paragraph, calls for the bill, gathers up his book about Bangalore, his Herald Trib, his notebook, his pen and heads on out.

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Snipe shooting was another sport enjoyed by the officers. Trinity Circle. Since snipe abounded in the marshes around Bangalore. Two mule-drawn wagons of green hay clomp through the intersection, the second with a bicycle laid across its fodder, a boy-driver seated atop the pile. The late Ralph Mitchell, an 82-year-old Bangalorean and former teacher at Baldwin’s Boy’s School, remembers going to the villages off Hosur Road to shoot wild boar, which were in the habit of digging up their groundnut fields. Battleship.

From author’s vantage point, seated atop a stone pillar on the traffic island, are visible: There was also plenty of duck shooting. KidsKemp / Boys, Girls, Women’s Wear, Toys. The Frog Prince, Pinocchio, Superman, Sleeping Beauty. In the tradition of English country squires, Bangalore had a hunt season and a Hunt Ball at the BUS (Bangalore United Services) Club. The high-rise rust-and-cream Vijaya Bank; the Taj Residency Hotel; Holy Trinity Church. Three Little Pigs, Jack and the Beanstalk, Hansel and Gretel, Gulliver’s Travels. The Reverend William Elphick recalls in his letters the Hunt Show that he attended. Its trefoil archway bearing atop it a proud, four-square cross: at midday unilluminated bulbs at each end of the crosspieces, four more running down it from tip to toe. The Flintstones, Magic Tricks, Monopoly, Stay Alive: The Ultimate Survival Game. He was suitably impressed by the Musical Ride of the Mysore Lancers. Action Man, Looney Tunes, Batman, Popeye.

Mrs. Bagley. Bead Studio, Play Faces, Fashion Wheel, Snakes and Ladders. Recounts how she and her husband. Crinkler, Case of Colors, Mop Top, Animal. Either rode or bicycled up Battery Lines. "DON’T CROSS YELLOW LINE" say the red letters stenciled on a white ground in turn painted on the green police stand at the center of the traffic island opposite. And how she exercised his ponies in the countryside. Creative Kit, ABC & 123, Solitaire, Connect 4. This photo shows a happy trio [Indian male arm in arm with English female/Indian female] on bicycles, 1928-1929 (Courtesy Patrick Wilson). Judo, Chinese Checkers, Cluedo? Downfall. Continuing on other side of street: Mickey Mouse, Memory, Animal Families, Monsters, Inc. Prudential ICICI, Mutual Fund, IndusInd Bank, Du Parc Trinity. Badge Maker, Guess Who? Mastermind, The Game of Life. The horse too was a tremendously liberating influence for the Englishwoman. Money Manager [games for young Bangaloreans]. For she could roam about the countryside and get to know it. Game of Games.

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Old-time residents of Bangalore remember the walks they used to take in the late Forties and early Fifties. Author takes midday stroll to the Bangalore City Rail Station to inquire about onward passage and to study its up-to-date book and newspaper stall. It was a ritual much anticipated and enjoyed. "The Promise of Purity," reads a kiosk’s advertisement, "Softee Ice Cream." Bowering Institute, called Literary and Scientific Institute, was established in 1868 [a second passage from Bangalore: The Story of a City]. "Retiring Rooms."

They would be dressed in their Sunday best. "Insert One Rupee Coin." The foundation stone for the original building was laid in 1888 by Lady Prendergast at the bandstand in St. Mark’s Square. Seated on the marble floor of the station, in pink silk saree/choli, is a gorgeously black Indian woman in her early thirties. The building was completed in 1891 at a cost of Rs.23,000. Which consisted of frilly dresses with flounces and ribbons. "Tea and Fruit Stall." And they would promenade to the bandstand and continue along what was originally a circular carriage road, to see and to be seen. Now, unfortunately, she is joined by her husband.

There was a billiards room, a card room, a theatre, tennis courts, a library and a reading room. A girl walks past with a purple bag fashionably slung over one shoulder, her long brown dress in a watery, shimmering, gold-bordered silk. The entrance fee to the large building was Rs.3. "Internet Center: Dishnet DSL." According to old bulletins, games such as Brag and Baccarat were played at this Institute in the early days. "Mysore Sandal Soap." Even though gambling was forbidden, and a loss of Rs.4300 was registered in the bulletin of July 20, 1905. "Refreshing New Taste." Therefore it was no surprise when the November 2 bulletin of the same year. "All New Herbs." Recorded that the game of Brag was struck. ("Colgate Herbal"). And Picquet substituted.

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The pride of place in Bangalore’s architectural landscape [a third passage], therefore, goes to two public buildings, the Attara Kacheri and the Vidhana Souda, standing opposite each other in the middle of well tended gardens. Shiv Khera, You Can Win (International Best Seller). Together they symbolize the Karnataka Government. ("Now India’s #1").

Bowring was also responsible for these stately Public Offices (the Attara Kacheri, which now houses the High Court). "Higgin botham’s WEL COME [sic]." The ritual [that second passage again] included an ice cream from where the popcorn stand now is, near the present Tennis Stadium. Macmillan India Ltd.

The Vidhana Souda was built under the supervision of Sir Arcot Narayanaswamy Mudaliar during the stewardship of Kengal Hanumanthiah as Chief Minister of Mysore State. (Delhi Chennai Jaipur Mumbai Patna Bangalore Bhopal Chandigarh Coimbatore Cuttack Guwahati Hubli Hyderabad Lucknow Madurai Nagpur Thiruvananthapuram Visakhapatnam). The flavours were vanilla and strawberry. Published New Delhi, 1998. And they were served in silver paper cups. Jackie Collins, Hollywood Wives. Completed in 1956, after a construction period of four years, it cost Rs.75 million. Harold Robbins, The Secret. It is a most imposing edifice, a magnificent example of the fusion of Indian styles: "This book will help individuals:" Dravidian, Rajasthani, Chola and Kannada.

"—Have confidence by mastering the seven steps to positive thinking." A rack of comic books. With ice creams in hand, they would stroll to the fountain, beautifully lit and cascading. "Developer: Graphic Goodies."

"—Be successful by turning weaknesses into strengths." Over 5000 labourers and 1500 stone and wood craftsmen worked on building and embellishing it.

"—Gain credibility by doing the right thing for the right reason." With frieze panels and ornamental details, including arabesques, floral patterns, geometric designs and motifs picked out in colours on doorways.

"—Take charge by controlling things instead of letting them control you." "Touristic Information Centre of Karnataka."

"—Build trust by developing mutual respect with the people around you." "Cauvery Arts & Crafts Association."

"—Accomplish more by removing the barriers to effectiveness." Through the station’s doors we are offered a view to the fenced park that sits before it, within which a statue of Laxmi, her breasts enormous, her hands held with their palms together, raised above her head.

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