Yaarigu Helabedi ( Translated: Don't tell anyone)

The word vacation always invokes a feeling of uninterrupted blissful relaxation in the midst of nature.  I used to be under the same illusion until I was rudely woken up to find my vacation plans hijacked and redefined.  Well, read this piece and be forewarned about potential vacation plan hijackers in family.

The hijack took place after my 10^th standard examination.  After a gruelling year I was craving for ‘peace and tranquility’ (had just finished ‘Daffodils’ of Wordsworth).  My father and I planned a trip to Malnad.  But my mother thought otherwise and wanted us to atone for our sins by taking a temple tour.  I dreaded this for my own reasons.  The reason was that I had mixed up south Indian and north Indian styles of architecture in the exam.  Hence I thought it was humane enough not to be reminded of it at every temple that I was going to visit.  Finally we won the battle.  So preparations were under way. I was looking forward to catch some exotic birds that were mentioned in Salim Ali’s book.  I bought a new binocular.  But disaster struck soon. 

My mother had called her family to tell them about the trip. The next thing I knew my plans were hijacked, redefined to mean “temple tour” for us and them.  My father and I were left dumbstruck as if hit by a thunder (note, not lightening).  Why thunder? A few notes on my mother’s family.

They are a boisterous family of six sisters, two brothers and we cousins number 13.  Each member is of a different mould and character.  They love to disagree on things ranging from the right color of rasam powder to the best psychiatrist they have visited! They take it upon themselves to give free advice, especially when not asked. Hence the thunder and not lightning!

My father resigned to his fate.  But being the diehard fighter, I tried to register my feeble protest. At once everyone descended upon me saying I was hurting their religious sentiments! Finally the tour bus was ascended by my gleeful mother and a disgruntled pair - me and my father. 

The bus journey was eventful in more than one ways.  My cousin Bheema loves to tuck in food 24X7.  But his poor stomach protested and finally gave up on the bus. The result was a pungent odor enveloped the entire a/c bus. To top it all the boisterous family was in its element. I could see my hope for peace and tranquility slipping away.  I appealed to god and promised to atone for my sins if only he granted me mukthi from the odor.  Just when I thought I would faint from the odor, the bus stopped in front of the Shringeri temple. 

The temple is a beautiful piece of architecture of Chalukyan style.  But for me it was the ghost of my exam! To add fuel to the fire my uncle the history professor (who is offended by my poor knowledge of history) asked, “What are the features of this temple’s architecture?”  I groaned aloud and made some noises about a disgruntled stomach. This was effective and sent my uncle hurrying away. 

Next we entered the temple to pay our respects. I thanked God for rescuing me from the odor by doing the pradakshinas twenty five times (goaded by my mother) and scalded my feet.  After satisfying their religious sentiments the whole family sat down for lunch. I saw this as my chance for some peace and tranquility.  I picked up my binocular and walked over to the kalyani. Even though I could not do justice to Salim Ali there was a chance to do justice to the beautiful fish in kalyani, I stood on the top most step of the Kalyani and peered into the clear water. Little did I know what was to happen next. One moment I was on the top step and the next I found myself on the step near the water. I suspected that it was a lucky day for an orthopedic as he would would soon have a patient.  I had broken a bone. How did this happen?

My youngest cousin who could be a bus, a truck or a bull all at the same time suffered from role conflict.  That fateful day he decided he would be a bull minus the horns.  He immediately assumed the role and saw my posterior as a potential target. So, he had sent me scuttling in the air and I had landed on all fours.

But still it turned out to be the best vacation. Guess why? I could recoup in the peace and tranquility of my house with ‘Daffodils’ for company.  I was away from the boisterous family and the ghost of my exam mix up (in the form of temples). I had also learnt an important lesson – do not tell anyone of your vacation plans least of all the family if it is anywhere like mine.

So next time you make vacation plans ‘Yaarigu Helabedi’. 

Gastronomy Unlimited!

I was on a mission. It looked like MI V. The odds were insurmountable. I had to
convert Anil Jagalur, an 'I-couldn't –care- less-about-food' man to a passionate
foodie! I was in search of that food haven, the temptations of which even he could
not resist. Yes, It struck me that I should take him to the Mecca of food...
‘Thindi Beedi'.

Tucked away in one of the oldest parts of South Bangalore, Sajjan Rao Circle, is 'Thindi Beedi' (food street) or should I say 'Food Paradise'. After a hard day at the office, I coaxed Anil to accompany me to Thindi Beedi and savor the delicacies on offer. We reached the place at about 7 in the evening with ‘foodies’ streaming in slowly, but eagerly.

 Before i launch into the next part of the story, a few facts about the place: The place is in existence as a food paradise for about 30 years now. It opens in the evening at 7pm and closes by 11.30pm. The street is just about half a kilometer, and hosts about 30 eateries! Each shop has its own menu with a minimum of 10 items. So, all put together one has 200 options to choose from and what more, it is light on the pocket too!

OK, let me name a few from the 200 options - bajji, onion bonda, pakodas, samosa, cutlet, idli, dosé, gobi manchurian, babycorn manchurian, fresh fruit juices, North Karnataka specialties…the list is endless! So we went to this eatery with an assortment of items like - kodbale, obattu, puliyogare, paddu, idlis, jowar rotti, ragi rotti, akki rotti, rumal roti, tandoori roti and 8 types of dosés...phew!

What can mere mortals do faced with such temptations? There we were, scratching our heads and trying to make the best choice. Finally we settled for the quintessential masala
dosé. Now, the making of dosés here is an elaborate ritual. 

First, the dosé batter is spread on the hot tavva to form a perfect, thin circle. While it is frying, with steam emanating from the surface, a blob of Amul butter is placed on the dosé. Now you go counting the calories. Then, the cook picks up a 1 ltr packet of Nandini ghee....brace your heart..your heart beats increase, makes a small hole in the
packet and starts to pour the ghee on the dosé in circules. 1,2, 3..... and it finally stops at 5. It reminds me of a lawn being watered with a hose! The calorie count touches 500 (in my modest estimate). The prepared dosés are served with red and green chutney and the yummy aloo subzi.

The hot steaming doses were served. My question to Anil, “How's it?” was met by closed eyes and a busy mouth! There it was… the expression one has when one achieves NIRVANA!
I had won. The mission was accomplished.

We rounded of our jaunt in the ‘Beedi’ with Butter Gulcan, Ice-cream and mixed fruits for dessert. Needless to say, Anil was, well.... busy tucking it all in!

OK folks, if all this made you hungry drooly, just rush to Thindi Beedi. For directions contact me or our newly converted foodie, Anil Jagalur!