Bengaluru never sleeps: 24*7 workers keep the night alive

As the city calls it a day, an army of workers ­ doctors, BPO workers, civic workers, cops, drivers, firefighters, chaiwallahs, flower women, vegetable and newspaper vendors ­ begin their night shift. Nightlife in Bengaluru is more than pubs, eateries and high-end party hotspots; TOI spends the witching hours on the streets to find the city alive and restless in parts, throbbing with a different purpose...It's no insomniac, this city.

As we sleep, clinging to dreams of a better tomorrow, and the homeless scout for space under flyovers and by street sides, authorized nightlife comes to an end, the beat cops relax a bit, poster boys hit the street walls, farmers drive into the city and the 24-hour dairy sends out its first van... Bengaluru is preparing for tomorrow.
There is activity in old and new areas, only the character differs.
Past 1am, buildings in the IT-BPO corridor along Bannerghatta Road, Electronics City, Bellandur and Whitefield beam lights from transparent rooms as a young workforce puts in what the Pensioners' Paradise terms the `graveyard shift'. Small, makeshift tea-and-cigarette stalls, and bicycle teawallahs mark their turf outside. Many stay until sunrise, along with the IT employees.

Move out of these areas towards central Bengaluru via KR Puram and Ulsoor, and the scene changes. Under a strange sepia sky, the rich-and-poor divide is sharp ­ skyscrapers in bright, artificial lights, the chic high streets of bankers and tech workers, and just beyond, its sombre underbelly. Bengaluru is many places and many people.
It's past 2am and Shivajinagar is bustling with activity, charcoal burning bright under grills cooking beef and other meat. Russell Market is shut; it's taking a catnap, but farmers are already unloading their produce from vehicles. It will be only after sunrise that meat and seawater fish arrives from various places, for which the market is famous.

Narasimhappa, 35, has come with 80, 16-kg sacks of tomatoes from Bagepalli in Chikkaballapur. The market price d transported to the retail market; (Below) A ranges between Rs 18 and Rs 20 a kg, but he gets Rs 100 for 16 kg -Rs 6.25kg. "Of the Rs 8,000 I'll earn today, Rs 2,000 goes for transport, Rs 1,000 on commission and I spend about Rs 300 on myself," he says.
Narayanaswamy, 17, from Gollahalli near Nelamangala in North Bengaluru, has similar issues. He has 92 sacks. "Not sure if I'll sell everything, but this is my only hope," he says.
On the way to KR (City) Market, a board emblazoned `247' is visible on the General Post Office building.
Soon, a truck leaves its gates for the airport.
It's about 2.15am.
Girish, the driver, says: "The timings are precise. We also ferry letters from other countries into Bengaluru."
On Magrath Road in the CBD, CH Srinivas Rao, 40, is laying water and drainage pipes. A migrant from Jaggayyapeta in Krishna district of Andhra Pradesh, he wouldn't be spotted with an `I Love Bangalore' T-shirt. "We leave our rooms on Mysuru Road after 2am. We stop for tea only if we see the postman's vehicle, or we know it's past 2.30am," Srinivas says. He is one among the army of workers building the city by night.

Like Ramesh Kashyap from Chhat tisgarh, who is camera-shy. "I have a debt and Bengaluru is a great opportunity .I don't know if I'm building Bengaluru, but I am building the Metro so I can pay off my debt," he said. WAITING TO MOVE ON It's about 2.30am, and Majestic Bus Stand is awake. The buses aren't mobile, though. Yesu A, 40, is waiting with his family. A cinema operator at Siddeshwara theatre in JP Nagar, he landed at 1.15am from Nandikotkur in Andhra Pradesh's Kurnool district.
Several others waitidly, but Manju nath K, 36, is busy sorting out newspaper bundles. "I have to send these to Ar asikere, Shimoga, Ku nigal, Hassan, Chan narayapatna and other places," he says.

It's 2.45am, and the City Railway station looks like a refugee camp ­ trav ellers snuggle under blankets in the station lobby, as inter mittent chants of `tea, tea... kafi, kafi...' keep the sleepy awake. Others struggle in difficult positions, some sitting inside defunct kiosks, waiting for their train.
Balancing the patina of yore and a modern glaze, Bengaluru is restless in parts, quiet and at peace in others. South Bengaluru is largely asleep. But at the Jayanagar Fire Station, a fireman on sentry duty is chatting up his senior. Stories at fire stations, like police stations, are either gory or funny. "About 1am last Wednesday , we got a call from Gottigere that an animal was stuck in a pit. We flower section reached and found an adult horse. It took the three of us four hours...," he narrates.

Other emergency services are alive too ­ like the ambulance rushing towards Victoria Hospital, just like many others have criss-crossed the city through the night. Doctors, waiting for the ambu lance, begin treating the patient when another ambulance rushes in with an old lady . Hospitals, a major urban lifeline, are among Bengaluru's nocturnal places working quietly .
MARKET WAKES UP In the hours leading up to dawn, a chilly air blows in some fresh smells in KR Mar ket, which is just coming alive. The aroma of fresh coriander, curry leaves, roses and mangoes, overwhelms the otherwise filthy odours. By 3.45am, the supplies begin to flow in.

From roses to gerbera, jasmine and marigold, the market is filled with flowers that magically disappear by 7am, to reach retail neighbourhood shops. Just like the greens. People like Sarojamma, 50, travel long distances to reach the market by 4am. "These are for pujas at home, we want them fresh," she says, as she picks up her flowers and readies to leave for Bom masandra, 21km away.

Ramesh, who brings his roses from Chikka Tirupathi, says he has many regular customers like Sarojamma. But she doesn't buy his roses. "The past six weeks have been difficult, we are get ting only Rs 25 for 20 roses, though when the going is good, the price goes up to Rs 100-Rs 125 for 20 roses. From next week, business will recover," he said.

Some vegetables and fruits remain to be sold, as other areas of the market perk up for another long day. Until night dawns again.