Thanks for the bandh

Thank you Mahatma Gandhiavare for teaching us how to protest.Sometimes some of our brethren turn violent, but quite often bandhs are peaceful.Out here in Bangalore it's been a blessed Thursday.No cars, no scooters, no motorcycles, no buses, no lorries.In Langford Town-Richmond Town with their quaint street names -- Moyenville Road, Olleff Road, Eagle Street, Curly Street, Serpentine Street, Walker Lane, Rose Lane, Myrtle Lane, O'Shaugnessey Road, one felt like one has been transported to the '50s.No traffic, just the dulcet song of the cuckoo as it romanced another plump cuckoo on the mango tree on Berlie Street.In the Prestige Elgin complex, with its red brick walls, a score of grey pigeons with their turquoise green necks, seemed to coo all the more loudly, there being no other sounds around.Almost in response, a dozen parrots nesting on the jamun tree on Hosur Road, squawked and arced into the sky.The traffic policeman, being slowly killed by the noxious fumes every day seemed very happy, even waving out a greeting. Bless him.Nike's on, one walked, carefully stepping over the granite stones all pushed asunder by the Optic Fibre cabal.The tea stalls in Johnson Market march to the tune of another drummer. They remained open, selling their buns, biskoot and chai. Tastes good, you know.Past Fatima's and All Saints, no haphazard parking.At the intersection of Brigade's and Museum Road, the triangular plot where the Shoolay Police Station once stood. In the empty space, one almost envisaged that old colonial building with its two lock-ups on either side of the entrance.Past St Patrick's and Sacred Heart's. The good lord seemed at peace, not a soul had turned up to beg and plead or pray. Bandhs have that effect on the populace.Crossed Residency Road in 12 seconds flat. Remembered the time as a student at St Joseph's, when one could do that in the thick of traffic.Past the KPTC office and a peek at the little temple that marks the entrance to Rest House Road. No poojari there and no devotees. God's in his heaven, all's well with the world.Oh, how beautiful Rest House Park looked, minus people! Two monkeys sat on the concrete bench chattering, perhaps discussing how they were really the more evolved species. Unfortunately, couldn't understand their language. Kannada any time.Justice Michael Saldanha seemed to have locked and barred himself behind the iron grill of his house. No lofty pronouncements. Cubbon Park is safe, thank god.A brisk walk on Rest House Crescent -- Mathias, Mascarenhas, D'Lemos D'Sa, Fernandes... bungalows with their bougainvillea, farangipani, coconut trees...Church Street, silent.And the offices of The Times of India.Across the City, people chilling out.Searching for `kadabu' hidden in the kitchen. Cold beer in some homes. Television, music, families `forced' to spend time together.For the journalist, there ain't no bandh. Just work.Thank you Mr Politician.allenmendonca1@indiatimes.com.