As I walk into the mess my mind travels faster than light to the aroma in my house in Bangalore. The food made with love, served with care, eaten with joy, thoroghly relished brings the fondest memories of Bangalore in my mind. I still remember the sundays when mom used to be home all day long. Breakfast used to be the dosas served to the plate right out of the tawa, eaten in the kitchen, sitting on the floor. With chutney. Green and spicy chutney. Other times it used to be Avarekaal Upittu with pickle and curds. Mind blowing. Lunch used to be Bisibelebaath with raita and happala, with crisp vadas or ambodes(dal vadas). If not BBB it used to be rice and sambhar, red due to the dozens of spices mom would have put in it. And how can I forget the delectable saaru(rasam)? Completely fluid, tangy and spicy. With rice and a little bit of ghee on it, that would melt and fill the plate and my heart? Then the soothing curd rice after the whole meal, followed by an afternoon siesta, woken up with a tumbler of filter coffee. That was home. It still is. The only thing being that I am not there anymore.
The best south Indian food is always at a marriage ceremony. Every community has their own ways of serving and different dishes and the variety you get to see is simply mind blowing. Being a staunch Madhava I hold the belief that Madhava food is the best (not that I mind Iyer food especially Aviyal one bit). The banana leaf is elaborately decorated with a cute rangoli on the top and salt at the top left. Then the pickle and the two types of salad (kosamri) and three vegetable palyas....aaaah. At the bottom of the top half they serve the gojju, which is a concoction made with tamarind coconuts and pineapples or bitter gourd. Then comes the chitranna or puliyogare at the bottom left of the leaf. Then an abundant helping of rice with a teaspoon of ghee on top of it. You can smell the ghee with the steam emanating from the rice. Just transports you to another planet. And the best bit a little bit of payasam on the right part of the bottom part of the leaf. With a little bit of dal. They serve sambhar, rasam, ambodes, obattus more payasam, sweets and a million other delicacies that just blow your mind. You are left overloaded and satisfied to the core.
Food is one of the best things about south India. It reflects our commonness and our differences in a very lucid way. South Indian food is the best thimg that ever happened to this planet. I hate to accept it but I am biased. I believe Bangalore is the ultimate reflection of south India. Progressive and cultured. Modern and maintained. Simply south India Re. We are like that only. Bangalore is famous for its food also. You do associate Bangalore with thai and mexican food, all kinds of international cuisines etc etc but he true bangalore lies in the darshinis. Now don't frown and say "how cheap!", but dude...There is NOTHING like a darshini anywhere in India. The priceless idli-vada-sambhar thrown at you for ten rupees, the masala dosa with a pinch of butter on the top and red chutney underneath, the rawa idli with chutney and potato sagoo, the gobi manchuri with a little bit of ketchup, the masala puri with onions floating, the pineapple juice that gets you smiling...thats darshini for you. Cheap, crowded, delicious food. True blue Bangalore. MTR's another place where you get true blue south Indian but its gone down big time.Some of my favourite darshinis are:
SLV corner in gandhi bazaar
Upahar Kendra KR Road
SLV JP Nagar
Adigas Jayanagar
Vidyaarthi Bhavan Gandhi Bazaar
(.....why is it that south Bangalore has the bet Darshinis?)
I guess if I start off with Bangalore and its food I'll never be able to walk into this mess again, to have the fly-soup they call 'dal' and the piece of parchment they call 'roti'. Till then....BANGALORE.....I'M COMING HOME...
Thursday, October 20, 2005
Monday, October 10, 2005
Perfection
My blog's all sleepy. Partly because of me. I haven't been able to do much blogging of late thanks to my goddamn scedule here. And none of the regular "commenters" are doing anything either. Well I don't know exactly how many people are reading this but here's another piece I wrote the other day in the canteen. Hope you guys like it.
The Artisan placed the crystal on the window sill and closed his eyes. Every corner of the room lit up in divine splendour. Ripples of different colours contoured the ceiling and to a person standing in front of the crystal, it seemed as though some supernatural being were condensed and locked inside the crystal. The craftsman sat down and buried his head in his hands. He felt hot tears gushing out. Perfection lay in front of him reflecting the approval of heaven above. Two years he had spent mastering the tiniest cuts and lines. And each one of them beamed at him now, each assuming a different colour, and through the centre rose a vertical beam that looked as though a laser had been set off somewhere inside the crystal, as it was scattered by the minute dust particles that glowed in its reflection.
He closed his eyes and sat down. There was nothing more in the world for him. He had slept for the first time in two months, after nights of devoted gazing at the crystal he had held as God. It had seemed so helpless and ordinary two years ago. And he had given all the cuts, contours, shapes and edges to make it seem so unearthly. With that thought he slept.
An hour later, his three year old daughter walked in. In all the gauche and unsophisticated, yet lovable manner of a three year old. Sh had been scared initially to step into this mysteriously dark and bright room. Once she stepped in she found a plethora of colours greeting her with its arms wide open.
She was fascinated on seeing the delicate waves the object on the window was sending her one after the another in quick succession. Quiet beams like the waves on a gentle sea. Intense beams like a tsunami. That gave the room a celestial aura. The girl picked up the object. It seemed like Pandora's box to her. She ran her hands accross its edges and cuts feeling the dark and light bands of light touch her gently. It reminded her of a pyramid. She examined it and smiled. Now it reminded her of a house. Now a doll. Now a ball. Elated, she just threw the piece up with joy. She saw saw wild beams of fury peform the most ecsatatic, most violent dance, light has ever performed, as it draped the room in an explosion of lines and colours. She felt scared and turned away as the crystal fel on the ground with a loud cash and scattered into a housand pieces, all reflecting light wildly, in the gauche and unsophistiated, yet beautiful manner of broken glass.
The craftsman woke up to the sound of his deitie's rupture. He screamed in agony, the second he realised that his creation had ceased to exist. He brought the animal in him out and and screamed "Little girl! What have you done...You imbecile fool!", as the girl ran away crying tears of fear as the craftsman lay crying tears of loss. He wept for hours lying on the zillion pieces of glass, when a voice from above captured his body, mind and soul. It only said " Now you know how it feels".
"It is God", wailed the craftsman. "This is how he creates perfection and this is how the world ruins him. This is how we destroy perfection...I know how it feels dear God, I know how it feels", as he wiped his tears only to wail further.
The Artisan placed the crystal on the window sill and closed his eyes. Every corner of the room lit up in divine splendour. Ripples of different colours contoured the ceiling and to a person standing in front of the crystal, it seemed as though some supernatural being were condensed and locked inside the crystal. The craftsman sat down and buried his head in his hands. He felt hot tears gushing out. Perfection lay in front of him reflecting the approval of heaven above. Two years he had spent mastering the tiniest cuts and lines. And each one of them beamed at him now, each assuming a different colour, and through the centre rose a vertical beam that looked as though a laser had been set off somewhere inside the crystal, as it was scattered by the minute dust particles that glowed in its reflection.
He closed his eyes and sat down. There was nothing more in the world for him. He had slept for the first time in two months, after nights of devoted gazing at the crystal he had held as God. It had seemed so helpless and ordinary two years ago. And he had given all the cuts, contours, shapes and edges to make it seem so unearthly. With that thought he slept.
An hour later, his three year old daughter walked in. In all the gauche and unsophisticated, yet lovable manner of a three year old. Sh had been scared initially to step into this mysteriously dark and bright room. Once she stepped in she found a plethora of colours greeting her with its arms wide open.
She was fascinated on seeing the delicate waves the object on the window was sending her one after the another in quick succession. Quiet beams like the waves on a gentle sea. Intense beams like a tsunami. That gave the room a celestial aura. The girl picked up the object. It seemed like Pandora's box to her. She ran her hands accross its edges and cuts feeling the dark and light bands of light touch her gently. It reminded her of a pyramid. She examined it and smiled. Now it reminded her of a house. Now a doll. Now a ball. Elated, she just threw the piece up with joy. She saw saw wild beams of fury peform the most ecsatatic, most violent dance, light has ever performed, as it draped the room in an explosion of lines and colours. She felt scared and turned away as the crystal fel on the ground with a loud cash and scattered into a housand pieces, all reflecting light wildly, in the gauche and unsophistiated, yet beautiful manner of broken glass.
The craftsman woke up to the sound of his deitie's rupture. He screamed in agony, the second he realised that his creation had ceased to exist. He brought the animal in him out and and screamed "Little girl! What have you done...You imbecile fool!", as the girl ran away crying tears of fear as the craftsman lay crying tears of loss. He wept for hours lying on the zillion pieces of glass, when a voice from above captured his body, mind and soul. It only said " Now you know how it feels".
"It is God", wailed the craftsman. "This is how he creates perfection and this is how the world ruins him. This is how we destroy perfection...I know how it feels dear God, I know how it feels", as he wiped his tears only to wail further.
Wednesday, October 05, 2005
Nicotine Charm
Its been a very very long time since I posted something. Midsems and the upoming Autofest keep me extremely busy, leaving me no time to breathe, let alone blog. Anyway, over the last couple of weeks I've realised that maybe there is one person who I'd really like to be with in my college. My ode to that person, who happens to be a chain smoker, supposedly trying to quit!
As I begin to hate the world more and more,
I gradually am drawn to you,
I gradually am drawn to you,
You, unlike convention dictates are,
The symbol of what I despise and Oh so admire
The symbol of what I despise and Oh so admire
But where is the repulsion?
I drown deeper and hopelessly deeper,
As your smile continus to shine on
my survival instincts and betrays all reason,
which told me that the world is bad.
Yes. They are bad.
Yes. They drain me.
Yes, I hate them and yes, they don't deserve me,
But there's you!
They don't deserve you either!
They don't realise you either!
They don't admire you either!
And there lies your nicotine charm,
veiled by the smoke from your cigarette,
It's lighted end burning like the passion in our hearts,
Which beat synchronously
Just like our souls fly together.
We are not of one blood, one reason or one thought.
But somehow, you have managed to penetrate the hermit,
With your nicotine smile, and your veiled smoky charm.
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