Suvarnamma

i went to the village of Lakavalli, near the Bhadravati dam for a 3-day trip. More on that later, but in that village, i fell in love. Read on to know more...

She was the perfect shade of yellow, not too much not too less. With a generous addition of coconut, groundnuts and a few other pulses, she looked like a bride on her marriage day. And boy was she hot. Steaming in fact, taken right out of the big vessel of Suvarnamma. Her fragrance tingled my nose, tempting and titillating. She was soft, and she was plentiful. When I put the first morsel in my mouth, it melted into an emotion words cannot describe. A heavenly balance of spice, flavor, sweet, and oil. Having two full plates of Suvarnamma's avalakki was the pinnacle of culinary satisfaction in my life to date. Never have my lips smacked so, never my fingers licked. Manners forgotten in a breath, as we got down to satiate that raw animal of hunger that had awoken after a day of trekking. Avalakki elsewhere shall never taste the same again.

More on the magician. In the dusty little village of Lakavalli, where my friends Keshav, Rahul, Gagan, Hitesh and I stayed for two days, was the hotel of Suvarnamma. Suvarnamma is the wife of Naganna, after whom the hotel is named. In a parallel that evoked fond childhood memories, her hotel has no board outside it, akin to 'The boardless hotel' in Malgudi Days. People around simply know it as the Naganna place. That woman is the best damn cook I have ever seen, period. Our first meal there was breakfast on the second day, when each of us had two idlis, one vada, few chili bajjis, a little chitranna and finally, that avalakki. I hogged and hogged till I could hog no more. All us five guys did. To our utter delight the bill came up to only Rs.125! Nowhere in Bangalore city can you eat so much for so less. Eating was peppered with her talk, as she elaborated on her family, her kids, the Bhadravati dam, and places that we could visit, covering a gamut of topics as only village women can. She has a maternal smile and an easy speech, and we chatted with her in the few seconds we could squeeze in between bites.

We trooped to her small dining room again for lunch which was Ragi mudde and rice with rasam and another sambar. Again we pushed the walls of our stomach like they had never been pushed before, but the bill was a measly Rs. 150. We told her about the places we went and were planning to go to in the remainder of our stay there. She gave us directions and safety advice in the vein of mothers the world over.

Dinner and next morning's breakfast were similar affairs, more or less. Only it was a pleasure that grew more pleasurable as we partook of it. We were scheduled to leave for Jog Falls after that, and leave directly for home from there, so this was goodbye. Gagan, who had grown especially fond of the place, almost got emotional and started taking pictures of the two hoteliers and the little place they ran. They bid us goodbye cheerfully and wished us well. While leaving we thrust a Rs. 100 note into her very reluctant hands, emphatically stating that there was no other way for us to express our gratitude to her for this unparalleled experience. What had been a very enjoyable trip as it is, she had made unforgettable.

It is sad that magical cooks like her are languishing in anonymity, while decorated restaurants with artificial glitz burn our pockets for food that just doesn't match up to this. I realize the only way I can help her is to present her food and hospitality in the best possible way, and hope that whatever few readers I have, if perchance ever go to the same place, will remember to visit her place. Also, if they could be kind enough, pack me a parcel of Avalakki.

Till then, I am doomed to roam the lackluster streets of Bangalore, with no more than a hollow craving of one more plate. Just, one more. Sigh.

Guilt

I tried writing all kinds of stories. Satires, funny stuff, something poignant, whatever. But god knows i'm most comfortable in the obscurely dark genre :D..so i thought i should just indulge :P..

It moves underneath darkness's shroud,

As the moon watches from behind a cloud.

A hellish specter come above ground,

Moving on feet that make no sound.

Why in these woods, did you have to wander?

That too on a night of peace torn asunder.

You sit here with not an expression pained,

While its dead eyes are on you trained.

But in a sinister fashion typical of death,

A creeping, sinking feeling is within you set.

You begin to wonder about this sudden despair,

Then notice a shadow that wasn't hitherto there.

Its no creature, is it a shadow of doubt or the past?

Can't put a word to it, a sadness that tends to last.

It yanks all the memories you've left in dark to rot,

From your cradle to the grave, connects every dot.

From nowhere and everywhere, in a moment's spur,

Its right beside you, in your ear with a whisper.

'I know all the bad things you've ever done.

'Lets go back to see where it had all begun.'

You tremble and shake, but powerless you are,

'It was you who pushed your loving mother afar.'

Not wanting to hear, you try to shut it out.

'You became an island from your self doubt.'

Trying to run, convinced you're being haunted,

'You left your wife, when you were all she wanted.'

Rooted as you are, the words begin to sink in,

'Every little theft and lie, I know every little sin.'

You cringe and cry as it all washes over you,

'A father missed a son as you never came through.'

'No more!' you shout, but its not quite yet done,

'Your children gave you love and in return got none.'

And then the thing gets an iron grip on your soul,

It twists and wrangles it, creating a hole.

Life as you know it, is slowly ebbing away,

But in light of these horrors, you don't want it to stay.

You welcome the darkness with arms open wide,

You want it to end, even though you could've tried.

Realizing just when your head is making the final tilt,

The thing that came to get you was your own guilt.

Where is Dummi?

Back in second PU, I had a friend called Dummi. Equipped with a robust voice, and an even more robust waistline, he was one of my best friends and wreckers-in-chief of any IIT aspirations. Not someone to be taken lightly, however. Ferocious, free with his words, and one for a good time. We'd had many a memorable moment, one of which included him crashing right into a garbage bin, something that has been immortalized on video. By all means, one of the better things to have happened to me that year.

However, since I've joined my engineering course, his appearances have been as rare as meaningful quotes from Megan Fox. Last I saw him was four months ago in his erstwhile house which he seems to have upped and left for greener pastures of which I do not know the whereabouts. He does not come online, and his mobile phone number seems to have changed. My friends and I have tried futilely to contact him, and consequently have come to draw wild conclusions on the issue of what must possibly have happened to him.

1. He tried running away from home- This almost happened once, if rumors are to be believed. One witness claims Dummi had been walking with all his worldly possessions in a bundle on a stick which lay perched upon his shoulder. There were wild conclusions to be drawn as to the cause of this as well, but that's another story.

2. For reasons best known to him, he decided to commit suicide- We came up with four possible ways, but for the devil of us, could not see how it was feasible in his case:

a) Classic rope-hang: He weighed 95 kgs in second PU. And he didn't seem to want to change that. Those boffins haven't yet come up with a rope strong enough to take him. So no-go.

b) Cyanide: It would require a prodigious amount of that to bring him down. He would probably have to raid quite a few chemist shops to accumulate the necessary amount. I can safely put that kind of dedication past my friend.

c) Under the train: There have not been any recent reports of trains derailing on any of the lines that pass through Bangalore. No casualties either. They have been spared the horror of his attempt as of yet.

d) Building leap: Yediyurappa's government has had enough woes with the city's infrastructure. If Dummi tries this stunt, probably he might be able to do what the BJP high command couldn't. Shock the CM into resignation, what with the crater he'll cause. Probably the Bangalore Metro's second phase could use the head start with demolition.

3. He is in hiding somewhere- No. Period.

Therefore, my friends, employ whatever extrapolation skills you have been endowed with, help me find this friend of mine. Aid me in my quest, good people.

You can't really run, and you sure as hell can't hide, Dummi. We shall find you yet.

Move over, Romeo and Juliet- Part 2

Part deu, of the story. As usual, where it all unfolds, hopefully. Read on..

It was at the Mix. Starting 8 pm, Rs. 350 for stag and 500 for couples. He didn't mind the difference. It would be worth it. He got in with a bunch of his friends, and danced on the floor for a while. Then he plopped down onto one of the couches lined along Mix's walls, tired. That's when he got a call from Manasa. He hurried to a more tranquil spot so she wouldn't hear the ambient noise and figure out where he was.

'Hey love. What you doing?' he asked, trying not to sound out of breath.

'Hey. Was just thinking of you, so I thought I'd call. What you up to?' she asked sweetly.

'Me? I'm just, well. I'm with family, some wedding we were supposed to attend. Dad's friend's son and all that. Really quite boring. I missed you!' he cried.

'Really?' she cooed appropriately. 'And you know, coincidentally, even I'm at a wedding with family! How cool is that? You and I are totally meant to be!' she shouted happily. Gods be pardoned if she even remotely knew what meaning to be meant.

'Can't wait to see you tomorrow Manasa. Love you! Anyways, parents are calling me, got to go! See ya!'

'Love you too. Bye!' she hung up.

He went back to the couch and sat a while, talking to his friends.

'So how're things with you and Manasa man?' his friend Sharat asked him.

'It's great man. It's fun to spend time with her, and we both get to do our own things in our time.' Gagan replied.

'How come she's not here today? You should have called her!'

'We've never really discussed this, but I've heard from others that she's not really into partying and all. So, you know. She'd just called; I had to say I was at a wedding. Don't think she'd appreciate knowing the truth.'

'Oh okay. To each their own right? As long as its all good.'

'Yeah man, it's all great. We have our good days and our bad days. Day before was hell. Had to go shopping with her. You know how it is..' Sharat gave him an understanding grin.

'I mean she wanted an opinion from me about every one of the infinite things she was trying, eventually buying a handful! Just wouldn't let me concentrate on the things I wanted to buy for myself. I mean, you're going to wear them, you buy them, why ask me??'

'I totally get you man. Lets go get those martinis man!'

They went to the bar, when Gagan heard a familiar voice call for a couple of vodka shots. He whirled around and saw, Manasa. He stared at her for a full ten seconds, shell shocked. Everything he had heard about her was false, she was false, they were false.

She looked back at him, shifting a little uncomfortably. It was probably around that moment that it struck her that he too had lied about his whereabouts and her posture resumed a modicum of strength and she stood tall and matched his stare. Neither said a word, waiting for the other to speak. The atmosphere and the people in the place seemed unaffected, hurrying along in its usual incoherent frenzy, like a spectator who couldn't care lesser about the drama unfolding in front of him.

Finally Gagan felt like he should say something, and he did.

'What are you having? Romanov or Fuel?'

She did a double-take, and answered after a second. 'Fuel, of course. At least there's some flavor.'

'So, this whole thing. We're good right?' he asked evenly.

She eyed him and then said, 'Yeah sure, we're good.'

'Cool.' And he walked past her, back to his friends, with the martinis and drank them. After an hour later, he went home. The next day, to college...and everything was just as it always had been. He met her for lunch, and they went home together, as they always did.

In case the reader is wondering; come on, it was a lie, okay, so what? That didn't change things right?

Since when was trust an important part of any relationship?..

Move over, Romeo and Juliet- Part 1

I always wondered at how fake, people can be sometimes, portraying themselves as serves their purpose. And how materialistic and sometimes shallow our generation can be. Yes we are, lets accept it. Instead of a scathing report, I decided to write a satire. Inspiration for the idea must go to Ravi Shankar's article 'The Secret History of India' in this month's India Today issue. Hilarious!!

I will not describe how he and she looked. Because they are you, they are me. Put your own and the other person's face on them if you wish. But the premise of this story basically is, Gagan knew Manasa was the one when he saw her. He didn't care what sort of person she was, where her interests lay, or even her orientation for that matter. But he decided that he loved her. She looked good, and he had to get with her. It was with this ambitious intention that he sat down next to her one lunch hour. Everyone who had noticed the stolen glances and swiftly tucked away smiles between the two in the last two weeks, were watching with bated breath. They collectively watched back and forth at every exchange of dialogue between them, as though following exciting commentary of a verbal volley.

'Hey there', an easy, confident start from Gagan!

'Oh. Its you. Hi!' and Manasa makes a fittingly hesitant return!

'You know, there's something I've been meaning to ask you something for the past few days. Its a very important question..' And immediately he goes in for the kill, this could be a short game folks!

'Yes Gagan. I say yes', and with that sweet smile, the game is sealed! Both are the winners! Have a good evening ladies and gentlemen, and thank you for attending!

And so they started going out. He couldn't get over the fact that she was the most beautiful girl he'd seen, and she couldn't get over the fact that he couldn't get over the fact that she was the most beaut-...well, you get the point.

So what if they didn't like the same music, same movies or same food? Petty things indeed. But the thing was, everyone knew Manasa was clean, and never drank, smoked or partied. She was a simple person, and Gagan knew he wasn't. But what bad would one lie do? After all, what you didn't know couldn't hurt you right? What mattered was that they enjoyed their time together. He could definitely enjoy their time apart however we wished. It was his life. At least that's what all those punk songs he listened to, said.

And thus days morphed into weeks, then months. Conversations tended to be linear, all they could do was convey their affection for each other in every way shown in all of the movies they'd watched. Thankfully they'd watched a lot of them, so lack of ways wasn't a problem, yet. Whenever talk started to veer towards inconsequentials like how their day was, or what they wanted from each other, it would soon be steered back to what was important.

'Hey you. I love you' Gagan lay down on his bed as he spoke into the phone with Manasa.

'Hey. I love you too' she gushed. Her heart never really raced when he said that, she hardly ever caught herself thinking of him, and seeing him didn't exactly make her day, but wasn't that all supposed to happen only in those mushy Pills&Noob books? You were just supposed to sound happy, and she did.

'You know, I've been thinking about you.' He wasn't. He was watching stuff on the web. But that's what she liked to hear, so there.

'You have? Oh! I'm so glad' textbook response. But hey, who are we to judge her? She liked his company, had fun with him. Who cared what love was?

'Today, after lunch I..' he had begun to say something, but she was busy twirling her hair and looking at herself in the mirror, so she never really registered the rest of his story. Zoned out, in short.

'Oh, that's great sugar. You know what I did today? I..' Now it was Gagan's turn to surf pages on the web as she spilled her story. He signaled concurrence at the right times, and it was enough. They spoke some more, him telling her how beautiful she was and her gushing over it.

Fact of the matter was, he wasn't telling her the truth. He wasn't going to be at home tonight, he was going to be at a club with some of his friends. Alcohol, dancing, and a late return time was on the cards. But, she needn't know that. The little girl was going to watch a movie with her parents tonight.

And so he left at night, in high spirits already, looking forward to a good time, some excitement.

He was going to get a measure and a half of it.