I recently spent a week in Bengaluru, Karanataka, India on a business trip. I went to help a customer make use of a new product from our company. The trip cost about $7000 in airfare and hotel. If the customer does adopt it, we expect that they’ll buy about $20M a year. That’s $10,000 for each of the 2000 working hours in a year. If my trip advances the adoption by a single hour, the trip will have been worth it.
This is not a big product or a lot of money by American standards, but I mention it because it put me in a sealed First World bubble inside the chaotic and lively world of this huge city. I stayed in a glossy hotel, met in a conference room full of video gear, and was driven everywhere in an air-conditioned and sound-insulated cab. The acoustic insulation matters – there are signs on the streets saying “The solution to traffic is patience, not honking”, but no one paid them any attention.
Here’s what typical businesses look like along the street:
A store selling plumbing supplies, a store dealing in silver, and above them an office doing data analytics. English is an official language, and everything is labeled in it, but the beautiful swirling script is the local language, Kannada, a Dravidian language three times as old as modern English.
Here’s where I was working – gardens, grass, and no crowds. It feels like a different planet, and there are high walls and guards around it.
At one point my hosts took me out to a local vegetarian fast food place. It was only a block away, but they insisted on driving. One had a nice Indian-made EV called a Mahindra that looked just like a Land Rover. I insisted on walking back, but they were worried about delicate American ankles. The sidewalk was all broken up by wear and tree roots, and scooters would swerve onto it periodically. We survived, much to their relief. The food was excellent, but somewhat mysterious:

Bengaluru is the tech capital of India, and that goes back a surprisingly long way. The last Muslim ruler of the area, the Mysorean Sultan Tippu, fought several battles around here against the British East India Company in the 1790s. The British did NOT have a tech advantage over the locals – they were both using muskets – but the Sultan had something they had never seen – rockets. These were tubes of soft iron packed with gunpowder, with a bamboo guidance stick in the back and often a blade in the front. They could be fired in an arc like artillery and explode on landing, or could be fired horizontally and pierce through soldiers and horses:

They wreaked havoc among the British and sepoy troops, but unfortunately for the Mysoreans, one of the British commanders was Arthur Wellesley, later the Duke of Wellington and defeater of Napoleon. In their last battle in 1799 Tippu was killed, and Wellesley discovered his body. He became governor of the area and crushed the remaining resistance. The rockets were adapted by William Congreve to British use, and became a standard weapon of the 19th century, most famously in the attack on Fort McHenry in 1814 that inspired “The Star-Spangled Banner”.
The British liked the area around Bangalore because of its mild climate – it’s at 1000 meters. It was actually cooler when I was there than it was in Boston. It stays between 10o and 30o C year-round. They built huge greenhouses like the Crystal Palace in the great park the Lalbagh Botanical Garden. It has bandstands, topiary, and groves of bamboo full of wild monkeys. They also built huge forts in the center of town. They’re still there, but now occupied by the Indian military and aerospace operations. They’re grim places with concrete walls with “No Drone Zone” signs everywhere and topped with barbwire. I did see an actual “Trespassers Will Be Shot” sign. The Indian Space Research Organization, ISRO, is also there and is doing phenomenal work these days, having just landed on the Moon.
Getting here takes twenty hours on planes each way, and the time zone change, 10.5 hours, is really hard. It’s an exhausting trip, but I must admit that I’m glad the company dime lets me get here. It’s a part of the world I would never get to on my own. It’s utterly different from home, in spite of First World intrusions, and that’s why we travel.

















