Snapshots of the Garden City:
White Tigers and Red Bananas
Lorre Weidlich - your Hyde Park correspondant
The software I am documenting here in Bangalore is being developed by my company, i2 Technologies, for Nokia, the Finnish telephone company. Because it's being developed primarily here in India, the development team has had a steady stream of visitors from the West -- architects, development directors, project directors, managers, and team leads.

We don't mind, because they all take us out for team lunches at some of Bangalore's finest restaurants. Most recently, our visitors included two representatives from Nokia in Helsinki and the project director and documentation/quality assurance manager from Dallas. That's my manager, an overworked but incredibly competent lady named Carolyn, and she brought along the digital camera I've been craving since I arrived. Because the Finnish visitors wanted to see Banerghatta and I wanted to go along, I had an immediate chance to use it.

Banerghatta is a zoo and wildlife preserve. Visitors can go on safari -- a ride through forested land in a bus covered by iron grillwork. Outside, the tigers roam free. Inside, the humans can snap pictures to their heart's content. The six of us -- Aarto and Katja-Marika from Helsinki, Carolyn and Avi from Dallas, and Sangeeth and I from Bangalore -- left Bangalore about 11. The night before, Sangeeth had told Katja-Marika that in Kerala, his home state in south-west India, there were red bananas. Unfortunately, he had not been able to produce one to prove his claim, and she wasn't about to let him forget it. Toward the middle of our safari he began to talk about Banerghatta's white tiger and her response was, "Is this another red banana story?" There was most assuredly a white tiger, as well as a number of Bengal tigers and a few Indian lions. I was a total beginner on my new camera and it's a miracle I got any photos at all, snapping wildly without the foggiest idea how to focus. On our way back we stopped at a fruit stand in an attempt to locate one of those infamous red bananas. Yes, they exist, said the proprietor, but I don't have any. At least, that's what Sangeeth insisted he said -- the exchange was in Kannada (the Indian language used in the state of Karnataka) so we had to take Sangeeth's word for it, something Katja-Marika was not inclined to do. After we split up, about three o'clock that afternoon, Sangeeth went on the prowl throughout Bangalore's various food stores and vegetable markets in a passionate quest for his elusive red banana. He had until 9:30 to deliver it, because at that time Aarto and Katja-Marika were due to leave for the airport. After visiting one location after another without success, it looked as if his search would prove fruitless until he found a tiny Kerala store at the back of Bangalore's gigantic city market. It turned out that red bananas were out of season, but the owner had a five. Sangeeth delivered the red bananas to Katja-Marika's hotel at 9:20.