These photographs describe my journey to KR Market (Krishna Rajendra Market) and the different things I saw and experienced. All the photographs are taken by me using my cell phone. The pictures have been post processed up to a certain extent. The photographs were taken on 26th February 2017.
Although KR Market is situated only three kilometres from where I live, I had never had the opportunity to visit this place. One of my friends sent me a link to an event which was happening in the so-called KR Flower Market. I had seen pictures of this place but didn’t have any idea as to what it was really like. Taking an auto, I was whisked away to a place which was different from the Bengaluru I usually got to see. Away from all the glass structures and multinational IT companies, KR Market was a place that was disorganised. This was the first word that came to my mind. Honking buses, auto rickshaws slithering down around like cockroaches, people crossing the road without any kind of warning sign, flyovers spanning overhead and the indefinite noise; this was how KR Market welcomed me. The weather was searing and as I got out of the auto, I saw people bustling around me, the big white mosque to my right, a big red building to my left, traffic policemen trying to regulate the traffic, buses still honking and Google Maps shutting down unexpectedly. I started walking towards this mysterious KR Flower Market.
Taking directions from a boy who was selling vegetables, I came to know that the Flower Market was in a building behind the red building. Crossing the road, I entered this huge complex which had numerous shops which sold mainly two commodities i.e. hardware items and flowers. I asked another guy as to where the courtyard of the Flower Market was and he told me to walk down the corridors and take a left. KR Market took me back to Chowk Bazaar in Tezpur. Narrow lanes with shops on both sides but the only difference here were that almost all these shops sold flowers. There were shops selling varying types of jasmine that are usually used to make gajra along with garlands and other flowers. The air had an odour which resembled the mixture of several different flowers, pungent but somehow choking at the same time. After walking a few more steps, I could hear the sound of drums beating in the distance. I knew that my destination was nearing and I followed the sound.
The drum beats grew louder as I approached the courtyard of the flower market. It was a huge open space where flowers were being sold on all four sides. There was a crowd gathered around near a tall pillar where a mural had been unveiled. Beneath the mural was four men drumming djembes in a much pepped up beat and hands were raised recording the performance. Inching a bit closer into the crowd, I heard the sound of someone playing the flute as well and saw a woman dancing. The courtyard had baskets full of flowers, placed in huge mounds. Red, orange, violet, pink, it was a spectacular display of colour. A kind I had never seen before and which left me in awe. People around me were clicking pictures, whistling and craning their necks. People on the second and third floors of the building were peering down at the performers, hooting and whistling occasionally. A few customers roamed around, checking flowers to buy while there were a few groups who were silently weaving garlands. A few foreigners were astounded by what was happening around them. This place was alive with activity!
Hardware shops adorned the first and the second floor of the entire complex. And most of these shops sold drilling machines. There were shops selling pumps, bathroom fittings, electronic items, tools and hardware, even steel and aluminium utensils but drilling and drilling repair shops outnumbered everything else. Somehow, this gave an industrial edge to the whole place. These shops stayed away from the flower shops and were creating a contrasting dimension within the whole place.
I decided to leave the courtyard and decided to explore the other parts of the market. Never in my life did I know that selling flowers can be such a big business idea. There were people who were feeding entire families just by engaging in this business and the daily transaction that happened created a lot of revenue. What was even more interesting was the variety of flowers one could find in this place. It included everything from roses to jasmines, crossandras, barlerias and much more. I couldn’t help but think about where these flowers came from, where were they grown and how they were available on such a large scale. On asking a bystander I came to know that most of these flowers came from the area along the Mysuru – Bengaluru highway. Another observation which I gathered was that this business was mostly run by the Muslim community. A few men nearby were weaving garlands. I decided to take a photograph of them but one guy sitting in the middle told me not to do so because they were doing a ‘religious process’, which shouldn’t be disturbed. A few others sitting beside him laughed but they were too engrossed to look up at what was happening.
KR Market is one of the few remaining places in Bengaluru which has been untouched by modernity. This place would call me back again because in the midst of all the people and the grime and the sweat lies a raw, unpolished sense of something old and ancient. To an outsider like me, it shows Bengaluru’s past and the way this past has been preserved. Just beside KR Market lies Tipu Sultan’s Summer Palace and Bangalore Fort; the walls of which are still standing to this day. As I was leaving the market, someone got mango juice in a tray for 30 rupees. My body demanded something to cool itself down. Standing near the stairs, I saw this guy selling paan, a commodity which is as important in Assam as sambhar is in Bengaluru. KR Market reminds me of my home in varying ways and I will be coming back soon.