Koramangala

By Arpitha Kakade

16th Century AD

The great Harihara I and his brother Bukka Raya I 's establishment of the Vijayanagar empire was doing better than ever. New dreams, hopes, and expectations continued humming. The city was in bloom, just like the flowers in Ambarama's backyard. The Vibrant Chrysanthemums painted themselves orange and embellished not only Ambarama's backyard but also her daughter’s voluptuous hair.

Lakshmamma, Daughter of Ambarama and Gullappa and the wife of Gudde Gowda, was a brave woman, a dutiful wife, an immaculate daughter, and a mother-to-be. The ombre sky complemented her sari whilst her flushed cheeks camouflaged in Ambarama's bed of red roses.

"Lakshmamma!" a voice called for her. A voice she was familiar with. Her gleamy and dreamy eyes quickly shifted their focus to the direction of the voice. A shy giggle crept onto her face once she saw the owner of the voice. It was Rajanna and his horse-drawn carriage. The horses and carriage were her free ticket to her in-law's residence. She ran, taking small footsteps and making stomping sounds. Her jewellery giggled and her anklets sang jolly songs.

"Slow Lakshmi, the horses won't run away." Came a yell from Ambarama. Lakshmamma took the support of the wooden rim of the carriage and sat down before bidding a silent goodbye to her mother. Ram and Shayam, the two horses pulled the carriage at the command of their master. The carriage was a wooden one, it was brown and glossy. Red cotton cloth covered either side of the carriage, however, there was a small window-like opening on both, the left and right, sides. Lakshmamma looked out the left opening and rubbernecked into the blue sky. She lowered her vision to see the people of the city that her father-in-law, Kempe Gowda, dreamt to turn into a city. She, too, could envision Bengaval-uru, the city of soldiers. The horses drew the carriages near the construction of the mud fort. The mud fort that Kempe Gowda was establishing. The fort was majestic, and the smell of wet mud tingled her button nose. Her mouth and eyes gaped at the fort wonderstruck. She felt a sense of pride.

The fort was fit and fine, it stood high, and the mud walls spread over a vast area of 2.24 sq.km. The southern gate, however, posed a hurdle.

Lost in her thoughts Lakshmamma had lost track of time and before she could even realize, she had reached her destination.

"Lakshmi!" Exclaimed a voice with pure bliss. It was her mother-in-law. She was welcomed inside the house. Stepping into the house, she could make out the unusual atmosphere of the house. A cloud of agitation overshadowed Lakshmamma vibrant persona.

Kempe Gowda was seated next to a Brahman priest and was discussing what seemed to be a serious matter which was inaudible to her delicate ears. She followed her mother-in-law into the kitchen whilst trying to eavesdrop on their conversation.

"The southern wall of the fort has collapsed again for the third time this month! I suggested that he discuss the Shani's doing on the fort with a priest" The mother-in-law voiced her concern with a sigh.

"What has the priest said? Will everything be fine"?

"I don't know, the priest hasn't given an easy solution to the problem. He proposed human sacrifice as the only solution. As if the sacrifice of a human is not enough trauma and karma, he specified the sacrifice of a pregnant!"

Kempe Gowda Morasu Vokkaliga Kempananje Gowda, had dreamt of a land for his people. Not an ordinary land but a sumptuous city. A great city for great people. A city that rejuvenated new colours of hope and laid the foundation for new beginnings. The southern gate of the fort posed a problem to his dream. While all gates welcome with open arms, this gate posed a threat.

"Don’t believe in such matters! The fort needs no blood but more mud to strengthen it" Kempe Gowda’s voice appeared out of the blue and overtook the complete kitchen. The voice was demanding and full of strength, like that of a great leader. Kempe Gowda wasn't a factoid.

Minutes turned into hours, hours into days, days into weeks, and in the blink of an eye, two weeks had passed after the fall of the southern wall. Even with the finest of raw materials and the utmost care, the gate still chose not to stand erect.

everything was given to that one gate, everything that is required for a mud gate to stand erect, but it still did not. As the wall continued obliterating itself, it demolished the petas that stood near the forts. Disappointment is presumably one of the worst sensations. One loses track of when disappointment turns into anger, or something worse. The southern wall's thirst for blood was quenched and thus began the growth of the metropolis. Lakshmamma was now a martyr.

Koramangala, the IT junction of Bengaluru, named after the martyr Lakshmamma is one of the most significant places in Bengaluru and yet only a handful of the citizens are aware of the place's history. It is funny how humans are so ignorant. One is Ignorant towards one's identity, ignorant towards one's history, culture, and past. The sacrifices that one makes for a better future are always forgotten.

By Arpitha Kakade