BENGALURU: Several years ago, one sunny noon after we finished work, a colleague asked me if I wanted to visit the National Gallery of Modern Art. I said ‘yes’ on a whim. We strolled into the premises and just like that, NG MA became my most beloved place in Bengaluru. Whenever I needed some time away from the rancorous realities of the material world, it was my goto place.
Sometimes, there would be an exhibit that provided ample food for your brain, while on other days, just sitting down on one of those stone benches under an old tree with a book was more than enough. There would be a steady stream of art buffs and artistes going about their businesses. The serene pond seemed as if it could mirror our thoughts. On rainy days, when the whole world was enveloped in greyness, I would rush to the Gallery, sit down with a book, having some delectable coffee and sandwiches from the canteen. At NGMA, I could always write so easily, without interruptions or distractions.
All this was, of course, before the pandemic, after which I developed a steady fear of visiting public spaces. Being cooped up at home for months and suffering much due to Covid-19 did a huge number on my psyche. For a long while after recovery, I was very scared of interacting with strangers, although I put up a brave face. I take the same corner twoseater in Namma Metro to this day and get perplexed over the sea of strange faces I come across at the Majestic station.
I have not boarded a city bus after the pandemic and was on the verge of having a panic attack after attending a wedding. When I finally decided to venture out by myself after much deliberation, it was to a book release event. I was confident it was the perfect place to get back into my old pattern. I had heard of this writer and there was a good turnout. However, I started feeling claustrophobic soon after and had to rush out. It took me some more time to step into a bookstore, as I had grown accustomed to ordering them online. We were driving by Palace Road last week and my daughter suddenly asked me: “Wasn’t it your go-to place? You often vanished into it,” she quizzed me.
I glanced at the entrance and told her it had been years now. “Why don’t you visit again?” she said. I nodded and wondered why I had not thought of this place. I recalled watching an artist sketching in a little journal at the campus while reading Bob Dylan. She saw me watching her and smiled. We had a brief discussion on poetry and a Korean artist whose works we both had come across a while ago. I also recalled writing a poem squatting at a quaint spot I found next to the canteen. I have come to realise it is a place of tranquillity and creative enjoyment. I am planning to visit NG MA one of these days and I know I will be charmed and elated once again.