<p>The many parks of Bengaluru have always been a favourite walking destination for those who include exercise in their early morning routine. Just into my 30s, I was undoubtedly the youngest of those regulars in the park, but by no means the most enthusiastic. Each one of those early birds had a distinct style and characteristic, which I remember even today.</p>.<p>Yoga Uncle inevitably brightened our morning with his vociferous breathing and elastic poses. Next to him was the group of ladies led by Guffaw Aunty. Her loud laughter and clamorous clapping often led me to wonder if I had ventured out forgetting to wear my track pants, Of course, they were merely in pursuit of some happy therapy, and not focused on any individual. </p>.<p>Gossip Chacha was of the most popular inhabitant of that park, never failing to update us with the spicy news his milkman had delivered every morning along with the equally fresh dairy produce. But Army Sir hated all the gossip and ensured he maintained social distancing from the hearsay while walking at lightning speed. I reciprocated by keeping such distance from him, fearing being run over by his pace, or accidentally knocked off by his swagger stick. </p>.<p>One could however not resist the herbal tea collection of Pekoe Madam, who managed to reach the park everyday just as the walkers were finishing their exercise. She sold fourteen varieties of therapeutic teas, although I never figured out any difference between the flavours. </p>.<p>The park had a small area for a flag pole and every Independence and Republic day, Army Sir ensured that we all gathered exactly at 9 am in celebration of the country’s freedom and democracy. Gossip Chacha usually avoided chatter on those occasions but Guffaw Aunty and her troupe ensured that their session of merriment and cacophony finished up just minutes before the more sober patriotic activities commenced.</p>.<p>It has been almost two decades since I moved away to a different part of the city - and a few weeks back I wondered if any of the usual characters still inhabit the park in the mornings. I took a drive towards the park and discovered that a sprawling apartment complex had taken its place. So just as many of us confine our walks and exercise routines within apartment societies and gymnasiums nowadays, the happy scenes of that vibrant group of fellow walkers, now invisible in this modern city, are well confined in my memory.</p>
<p>The many parks of Bengaluru have always been a favourite walking destination for those who include exercise in their early morning routine. Just into my 30s, I was undoubtedly the youngest of those regulars in the park, but by no means the most enthusiastic. Each one of those early birds had a distinct style and characteristic, which I remember even today.</p>.<p>Yoga Uncle inevitably brightened our morning with his vociferous breathing and elastic poses. Next to him was the group of ladies led by Guffaw Aunty. Her loud laughter and clamorous clapping often led me to wonder if I had ventured out forgetting to wear my track pants, Of course, they were merely in pursuit of some happy therapy, and not focused on any individual. </p>.<p>Gossip Chacha was of the most popular inhabitant of that park, never failing to update us with the spicy news his milkman had delivered every morning along with the equally fresh dairy produce. But Army Sir hated all the gossip and ensured he maintained social distancing from the hearsay while walking at lightning speed. I reciprocated by keeping such distance from him, fearing being run over by his pace, or accidentally knocked off by his swagger stick. </p>.<p>One could however not resist the herbal tea collection of Pekoe Madam, who managed to reach the park everyday just as the walkers were finishing their exercise. She sold fourteen varieties of therapeutic teas, although I never figured out any difference between the flavours. </p>.<p>The park had a small area for a flag pole and every Independence and Republic day, Army Sir ensured that we all gathered exactly at 9 am in celebration of the country’s freedom and democracy. Gossip Chacha usually avoided chatter on those occasions but Guffaw Aunty and her troupe ensured that their session of merriment and cacophony finished up just minutes before the more sober patriotic activities commenced.</p>.<p>It has been almost two decades since I moved away to a different part of the city - and a few weeks back I wondered if any of the usual characters still inhabit the park in the mornings. I took a drive towards the park and discovered that a sprawling apartment complex had taken its place. So just as many of us confine our walks and exercise routines within apartment societies and gymnasiums nowadays, the happy scenes of that vibrant group of fellow walkers, now invisible in this modern city, are well confined in my memory.</p>