Bengaluru derives its name from the word bendha-kalu-uru or the city of boiled beans, but you may call us Mr Bean City. That is what we are, having converted our once beautiful, clean, green, breathing city into a filthy, concrete graveyard.Before you can say Jack Robinson, we Bengalureans would have pointed a finger at ‘outsiders’ or ‘migrants’ for the demise of our city, its language and culture. But hold on a minute.Bengaluru has always had its nose in the air, with most local people considering it infra dig to speak in Kannada and instead preferring English. Even politicians and litterateurs who fight for Kannada as a compulsory medium of instruction send their wards to English medium schools. Out of the 100-plus Kannada cinemas released every year, not even ten recover their costs because theatres run empty. Television ratings reveal that hardly 50 per cent of Bangaloreans watch Kannada channels. The largest circulated newspaper in Bengaluru is an English, not Kannada, daily. The “outsider’ is not responsible for this.An ordinary Bangalorean is large hearted and does not resent “outsiders”. But he loathes it when a “migrant” tries to impose Hindi on him and pompously declares “Kannada Gothilla” (I do not know Kannada) even after residing here for ages. The language barrier is just one of the pain points.Kannadigas hate being called ‘Madrasis’, a term used to describe everybody down South, irrespective of the State they belong to. However, a Kannadiga conveniently forgets that he brands everyone from beyond the Vindyas, a North Indian or NI, whether he is a Gujarati, Punjabi, Marathi or Kashmiri.There is also much consternation about the alphabet ‘a’. A Kannadiga’s blood boils when an “outsider” refers to Karnataka and Kannada as Karnatak and Kannad. But what about our own fallacies? Caashmeera, Bihaara, Uttara Pradesha, Rajasthana and so on? Each language has its own nuances and a little consideration could help.Kannadigas are normally soft-spoken, polite, docile and content, while many “outsiders” do not fit into Bengaluru’s gentleman culture by being loud, brash and ill-mannered. When in Rome be a Roman.And now having belatedly realised that he is being elbowed out of his comfort zone, the usually timid Kannadiga has slowly started raising his voice to reclaim lost ground. And the “outsider” has struck back claiming credit for what Bengaluru is today and accusing the Kannadiga of being intolerant.The Kannadiga, who generally detests a fight, has decided to dig in his heels this time. “If we were intolerant, you would not have been living here peacefully,” screams an update on a social networking site. “You need us, we do not need you,” says another, while a third one adds, “If you have made Bengaluru what it is, please go back home and do the same to your own god-forsaken cities.” The Internet is virtually on fire and it is just a matter of time before things reach a flashpoint.When the Parsis arrived in Gujarat to escape persecution in their homeland Iran, the local king sought an empty pot and filled it to the brim with milk to indicate that the kingdom was full and had no place for refugees. The Parsi priest added a pinch of sugar to the pot and said, “We will only add sweetness to your lives without allowing the milk to overflow.”This is the spirit of give and take that Bengaluru badly yearns for to ensure that its cosmopolitan image is not dented. While the guest should be accommodative, the host should be reciprocative. That is the foundation of a lasting relationship.(The author is a media professional who has held senior journalistic and business roles in The Indian Express, The Times of India and Zee Network. He has a PhD from Mysore University)