Our first day back at work! No one from the Grants Team was at work today, and the office was eerily quiet, very lonely! I read online though, that every Tuesday there was a slam poetry reading at a cafe called Urban Solace in Ulsoor, Bangalore. I suggested it to Joanna, and we made plans to attend.
After work, the guard outside of the office usually helps me to find an auto, directing the driver for me. If they stop across the street he'll shout "Jayanagar, Jayanagar". It is very helpful and he is a sweet elderly man who always smiles in a very friendly manner when I come in the morning and leave in the evening. But today, I stopped him- I needed to go to Kanteerava Stadium instead, to meet Joanna at the climbing wall so we could go to the poetry slam together.
Kanteerava Stadium was huge, with so many different activities going on that it took me a while to orient myself and find the climbing wall. I had come in a dress from office and could see no place to change, so instead I watched Jo and some other climbers play around on the wall for about an hour. Then, Jo and I left the stadium to hail an auto. This proved exceedingly difficult, but we finally found one and reached Urban Solace with no difficulty. The restaurant is charming, with a decidedly cafe feel, bookstores all around and a very Western menu that made me skeptical. We picked a table near the back and observed the crowd, an interesting bunch of faces...quite a few fedoras, casual cigarettes and glasses of wine if you catch my drift.
I ordered a pesto pasta and it was superb, as was our chocolate cake dessert! The woman who was speaking was a graphic designer from Bangalore, slamming poems for the first time in public. She was smart, but nervous and long-winded so it was hard to stay focused. At the table next to us was a young girl and a young man again with a fedora and spectacles. He looked enthralled by the reading, slapping his knees, snapping, calling out in admiration and clapping loudly enough to put less enthusiastic audience members to shame. He kept turning around to our table and asking if I would read, and offered to buy me a glass of wine if I did. I politely declined and told him he should read, which he did, and well.
His name was Dominic or Dominique...pronounced like the latter in any case. He was the most confident and controversial of the poets, fearlessly dropping in sexual imagery and with a delivery that sounded most like slam poets I've heard in the past. An American girl who looked a little younger than us and who was there with her other American friend read a slam poem she had written about her mum, and then one elder man read from a book he had published.
After the whole thing was over, the young girl sitting with Dominic (named Smitha) came over and sat at our table. She said her brother was in graduate school at Dartmouth and that she was heading to the University of Wisconsin in June to pursue graduate studies herself. A graduate of Bangalore Medical College, she knew Dominic from school, where he was 5 years her senior. Dominic himself eventually came and sat with us. He explained that he was working with the IPL cricket league (performing some sort of managerial functions which he hated) to make money, and that he was trying to get to know India. He told us he had no desire to travel until he knew India, which he said would take him at least 7 years.
A while passed in good conversation, and then their friend arrived, a man named Ravindra, part of a Bangalore theatre group called Rafiki. We talked with them about the youthful side in Bangalore, the drug scene, safety for women and more until finally, around 10:30, the cab I had called arrived for us. Before leaving we were given "personal affirmation cards", which we picked from a large bowl. They are these coloured cards the size and shape of business cards that say things like "no matter what challenges come your way, always remember you are loved". Outside the restaurant, Dominique gave me a string of jasmine flowers. We graciously took our leave, overwhelmed with the interesting night...The driver was Avinash, a friend of a woman I know from work who is very reliable and he safely took us home.
After work, the guard outside of the office usually helps me to find an auto, directing the driver for me. If they stop across the street he'll shout "Jayanagar, Jayanagar". It is very helpful and he is a sweet elderly man who always smiles in a very friendly manner when I come in the morning and leave in the evening. But today, I stopped him- I needed to go to Kanteerava Stadium instead, to meet Joanna at the climbing wall so we could go to the poetry slam together.
Kanteerava Stadium was huge, with so many different activities going on that it took me a while to orient myself and find the climbing wall. I had come in a dress from office and could see no place to change, so instead I watched Jo and some other climbers play around on the wall for about an hour. Then, Jo and I left the stadium to hail an auto. This proved exceedingly difficult, but we finally found one and reached Urban Solace with no difficulty. The restaurant is charming, with a decidedly cafe feel, bookstores all around and a very Western menu that made me skeptical. We picked a table near the back and observed the crowd, an interesting bunch of faces...quite a few fedoras, casual cigarettes and glasses of wine if you catch my drift.
I ordered a pesto pasta and it was superb, as was our chocolate cake dessert! The woman who was speaking was a graphic designer from Bangalore, slamming poems for the first time in public. She was smart, but nervous and long-winded so it was hard to stay focused. At the table next to us was a young girl and a young man again with a fedora and spectacles. He looked enthralled by the reading, slapping his knees, snapping, calling out in admiration and clapping loudly enough to put less enthusiastic audience members to shame. He kept turning around to our table and asking if I would read, and offered to buy me a glass of wine if I did. I politely declined and told him he should read, which he did, and well.
His name was Dominic or Dominique...pronounced like the latter in any case. He was the most confident and controversial of the poets, fearlessly dropping in sexual imagery and with a delivery that sounded most like slam poets I've heard in the past. An American girl who looked a little younger than us and who was there with her other American friend read a slam poem she had written about her mum, and then one elder man read from a book he had published.
After the whole thing was over, the young girl sitting with Dominic (named Smitha) came over and sat at our table. She said her brother was in graduate school at Dartmouth and that she was heading to the University of Wisconsin in June to pursue graduate studies herself. A graduate of Bangalore Medical College, she knew Dominic from school, where he was 5 years her senior. Dominic himself eventually came and sat with us. He explained that he was working with the IPL cricket league (performing some sort of managerial functions which he hated) to make money, and that he was trying to get to know India. He told us he had no desire to travel until he knew India, which he said would take him at least 7 years.
A while passed in good conversation, and then their friend arrived, a man named Ravindra, part of a Bangalore theatre group called Rafiki. We talked with them about the youthful side in Bangalore, the drug scene, safety for women and more until finally, around 10:30, the cab I had called arrived for us. Before leaving we were given "personal affirmation cards", which we picked from a large bowl. They are these coloured cards the size and shape of business cards that say things like "no matter what challenges come your way, always remember you are loved". Outside the restaurant, Dominique gave me a string of jasmine flowers. We graciously took our leave, overwhelmed with the interesting night...The driver was Avinash, a friend of a woman I know from work who is very reliable and he safely took us home.
