Once upon a time there was electricity

As India steps into the next decade as an economic power, military power, technology power and other sobriquets garlanded by so-called pundits of the new world, its engines on which it runs - Mumbai, Delhi, Bangalore and other cities stumble along on some old fashioned crutches. As a member of its tech-engine diaspora, yours truly has endured the necessity for the crutches that Bangalore supports itself on. While it is the grit-determination combo of the Mumbaikars, the tradition-innovation duo of the Delhiites and various innate qualities bequeathed by tradition for the other engines, it is more of a portion of chance and benevolence of nature that fuels Bangalore's crutches.

One of the turrets of infrastructure taken for granted is electricity. In Bangalore, its more of an amenity, which one pays for in case its granted by the all pervasive BESCOM. It has for one, managed to change a habit in me which my mom had given up hope on - the age-old wisdom 'early to bed and early to rise makes one healthy, wealthy and wise'. Although the former part is still untouched, the latter part is now literally controlled by BESCOM (sounds like MOM - guess providence had a dirty hand to play in this one).

Even though Indians' dependence on electricity is not as 'scary' as those of the Americans (they have almost everything from their alarm clocks to smart homes hooked-on), it has a stronger story to get an entry into the roti-kapda-makaan coterie than does India in getting into the UN security council. One reads the paper to often see the powers-that-be put up an act of helplessness when mildly troubled on such issues - but its never surprising that they dont break a sweat even in the face of global warming (which may have something to do with the fact that media coverage usually happens in the confines of generator backed 5-star environs).

The day usually starts with one being woken up by the tickle of a drop of sweat that traverses from brow along the contours of the face to the neck. When realization dawns that one's sleep is no more accompanied by the fan or A.C. and the bedsheet needs some bit of sun, there's not much option than to get under a cold shower. Some cold milk and the soothing confines of the air-conditioned office has become more enticing than a usually logical work-at-home option. The age-old 'warm welcome back home' is quite literally warm! You are back home, but not Mr. Electricity! The plot of a racy Frederick Forsyth novel might have contemplated a nexus between the candle traders mafia (or the generator makers association) and the government, but had the grey cells of our politicians enough ability to digest lesser authors, our mom's wouldn't have had to thank BESCOM officials for waking us up early!

Hmm...On second thought the lack of TV or the internet at night gives me some more time to be spent with my wife! Thats when one manages a long pending snap of hers :)