<p>Ansh was excited to be in Bengaluru, as he had heard so much about this garden city from his grandparents. All the nine years he had spent on Earth had been in Hubballi, where he was born and raised, due to his father’s work as a co-owner of a factory there. </p>.<p>Sadly, all through the bus ride to Bengaluru, he had slept, due to his motion sickness, so he hadn’t seen much of this beautiful city. </p>.<p>The next morning, he woke up early, as his grandfather was taking him to a special place. He sat in the backseat of the car with his Dadaji, as the driver navigated the roads. Ansh looked alarmed, “At 7.45 am in the morning there is so much traffic on the roads?” he asked.</p>.<p>“The traffic is due to the schools nearby,” Dadaji explained. </p>.<p>The driver brought the car to a stop outside a gate. “This is one of the entrances of Lalbagh Botanical Garden,” Dadaji said. “It has four entrances, east, west, north and south.”</p>.<p>The moment they stepped out of the car, Dadaji held Ansh’s hands. “I don’t want to lose you in the crowd.” </p>.<p>They managed to walk through a large crowd and made their way inside. </p>.<p class="bodytext">“Though Lalbagh was planned and commissioned by King Hyder Ali in 1760, his son Tipu Sultan ended up completing this fabulous garden. It has a glass house built in 1890. The glass house hosts two flower shows during the weeks of Republic Day and Independence Day. There is a heavy rush throughout those days,” said Dadaji.</p>.<p class="bodytext">“Wow,” Ansh’s eyes were wide as he stared at the diamond-shaped glass house filled with plants. “It’s like the lungs of Bengaluru.”</p>.<p class="bodytext">Dadaji smiled and ruffled his grandson’s hair. They watched a couple of parakeets fly over their heads.</p>.<p class="bodytext">“So many birds must be either living here or visiting the place,” Ansh said.</p>.<p class="bodytext">“Yes,” Dadaji replied. “There are so many plants and trees here, it will take you the entire day to see them.”</p>.<p class="bodytext">A crowd of people swarmed around them. Ansh’s hold on his grandfather’s hand loosened. The crowd gathered Ansh in its centre, pushing him along as they moved ahead. Dadaji and Ansh got separated. </p>.<p class="bodytext">As the crowd thinned, drifting in different directions, Ansh ran back to the place he had last seen Dadaji. As he looked around, his eyes widened. This was definitely not the place he and Dadaji had come through. His mouth turned dry. He was lost in a new place, without a phone or even the address of his grandfather’s home.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Ahead, a guide was leading a group of tourists, “Welcome to the Lalbagh Botanical Garden, this green space is a paradise for morning walkers and fitness freaks,” the guide said. Ansh joined the group, thinking that amidst a group he would be safe. If he was alone, it may be risky. He hoped that at some point he would ask the guide to help him reach home. “It’s spread across an area that is hold your breath, 240 acres,” he said.</p>.<p class="bodytext">The crowd gasped, trying to imagine the size of Lalbagh. </p>.<p class="bodytext">Ansh saw people of all ages walking, some were running. On one side he saw a few people doing yoga. </p>.<p class="bodytext">The twittering of birds made him look up. A flock of birds was flying overhead. This place must be home to many species of birds, he thought.</p>.<p class="bodytext">“On the southern end is a lake spread across 40 acres, it’s a prime tourist spot. Nature lovers too throng that lake. The natural lake was commissioned by James Cameroon in 1890, he was the Superintendent of Lalbagh at that time. He ordered the construction of a bund as well as ornamental steps that led to the lake. The lake provides water to the garden area,” the guide, a tall man in a grey shirt and trousers, said. “There are two islands in <br />the lake.”</p>.<p class="bodytext">A few people clicked pictures. Ansh wished he had his camera with him.</p>.<p class="bodytext">“Lalbagh boasts of India’s first ever lawn clock and it also has the maximum number of rare plants in the entire sub-continent,” the guide said proudly, as though it was his personal achievement. “It has nearly 1,900 species of plants and trees. The plants have been brought from Iran, Africa, Turkey, Afghanistan, France and many such far-off places.”</p>.<p class="bodytext">Ansh looked all around. He saw several trees that looked very old. The trees had been labelled so that they could be easily identified. He also saw a large rock — The Lalbagh Rock. </p>.<p class="bodytext">“See that tower, it was erected by Kempegowda, he was the founder of Bengaluru,” the guide said.</p>.<p class="bodytext">As they walked around, he saw a bandstand. </p>.<p class="bodytext">His eyes widened as they neared another gate. It looked like the gate he and Dadaji had entered through. He squinted in the sunlight. Was that Dadaji talking to a couple of officials? Leaving the group, he ran towards his grandfather and hugged him. </p>.<p class="bodytext">“I thought that you may be lost, you had me extremely worried,” Dadaji said, his eyes wet with unshed tears. </p>.<p class="bodytext">“The crowd carried me away Dadaji,” Ansh said. “But it turned out to be a blessing as I ended up having a guided tour of Lalbagh.”</p>.<p class="bodytext">“I’m going to tie you to myself when I take you to the next tourist spot in the evening,” Dadaji said.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Ansh smiled. </p>
<p>Ansh was excited to be in Bengaluru, as he had heard so much about this garden city from his grandparents. All the nine years he had spent on Earth had been in Hubballi, where he was born and raised, due to his father’s work as a co-owner of a factory there. </p>.<p>Sadly, all through the bus ride to Bengaluru, he had slept, due to his motion sickness, so he hadn’t seen much of this beautiful city. </p>.<p>The next morning, he woke up early, as his grandfather was taking him to a special place. He sat in the backseat of the car with his Dadaji, as the driver navigated the roads. Ansh looked alarmed, “At 7.45 am in the morning there is so much traffic on the roads?” he asked.</p>.<p>“The traffic is due to the schools nearby,” Dadaji explained. </p>.<p>The driver brought the car to a stop outside a gate. “This is one of the entrances of Lalbagh Botanical Garden,” Dadaji said. “It has four entrances, east, west, north and south.”</p>.<p>The moment they stepped out of the car, Dadaji held Ansh’s hands. “I don’t want to lose you in the crowd.” </p>.<p>They managed to walk through a large crowd and made their way inside. </p>.<p class="bodytext">“Though Lalbagh was planned and commissioned by King Hyder Ali in 1760, his son Tipu Sultan ended up completing this fabulous garden. It has a glass house built in 1890. The glass house hosts two flower shows during the weeks of Republic Day and Independence Day. There is a heavy rush throughout those days,” said Dadaji.</p>.<p class="bodytext">“Wow,” Ansh’s eyes were wide as he stared at the diamond-shaped glass house filled with plants. “It’s like the lungs of Bengaluru.”</p>.<p class="bodytext">Dadaji smiled and ruffled his grandson’s hair. They watched a couple of parakeets fly over their heads.</p>.<p class="bodytext">“So many birds must be either living here or visiting the place,” Ansh said.</p>.<p class="bodytext">“Yes,” Dadaji replied. “There are so many plants and trees here, it will take you the entire day to see them.”</p>.<p class="bodytext">A crowd of people swarmed around them. Ansh’s hold on his grandfather’s hand loosened. The crowd gathered Ansh in its centre, pushing him along as they moved ahead. Dadaji and Ansh got separated. </p>.<p class="bodytext">As the crowd thinned, drifting in different directions, Ansh ran back to the place he had last seen Dadaji. As he looked around, his eyes widened. This was definitely not the place he and Dadaji had come through. His mouth turned dry. He was lost in a new place, without a phone or even the address of his grandfather’s home.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Ahead, a guide was leading a group of tourists, “Welcome to the Lalbagh Botanical Garden, this green space is a paradise for morning walkers and fitness freaks,” the guide said. Ansh joined the group, thinking that amidst a group he would be safe. If he was alone, it may be risky. He hoped that at some point he would ask the guide to help him reach home. “It’s spread across an area that is hold your breath, 240 acres,” he said.</p>.<p class="bodytext">The crowd gasped, trying to imagine the size of Lalbagh. </p>.<p class="bodytext">Ansh saw people of all ages walking, some were running. On one side he saw a few people doing yoga. </p>.<p class="bodytext">The twittering of birds made him look up. A flock of birds was flying overhead. This place must be home to many species of birds, he thought.</p>.<p class="bodytext">“On the southern end is a lake spread across 40 acres, it’s a prime tourist spot. Nature lovers too throng that lake. The natural lake was commissioned by James Cameroon in 1890, he was the Superintendent of Lalbagh at that time. He ordered the construction of a bund as well as ornamental steps that led to the lake. The lake provides water to the garden area,” the guide, a tall man in a grey shirt and trousers, said. “There are two islands in <br />the lake.”</p>.<p class="bodytext">A few people clicked pictures. Ansh wished he had his camera with him.</p>.<p class="bodytext">“Lalbagh boasts of India’s first ever lawn clock and it also has the maximum number of rare plants in the entire sub-continent,” the guide said proudly, as though it was his personal achievement. “It has nearly 1,900 species of plants and trees. The plants have been brought from Iran, Africa, Turkey, Afghanistan, France and many such far-off places.”</p>.<p class="bodytext">Ansh looked all around. He saw several trees that looked very old. The trees had been labelled so that they could be easily identified. He also saw a large rock — The Lalbagh Rock. </p>.<p class="bodytext">“See that tower, it was erected by Kempegowda, he was the founder of Bengaluru,” the guide said.</p>.<p class="bodytext">As they walked around, he saw a bandstand. </p>.<p class="bodytext">His eyes widened as they neared another gate. It looked like the gate he and Dadaji had entered through. He squinted in the sunlight. Was that Dadaji talking to a couple of officials? Leaving the group, he ran towards his grandfather and hugged him. </p>.<p class="bodytext">“I thought that you may be lost, you had me extremely worried,” Dadaji said, his eyes wet with unshed tears. </p>.<p class="bodytext">“The crowd carried me away Dadaji,” Ansh said. “But it turned out to be a blessing as I ended up having a guided tour of Lalbagh.”</p>.<p class="bodytext">“I’m going to tie you to myself when I take you to the next tourist spot in the evening,” Dadaji said.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Ansh smiled. </p>