Commercial Eat

One of the happiest moments in my mother's life, she says, is when they built her a luxury ladies' toilet on Dispensary road in the late eighties. This facility essentially doubled her shopping time, which in turn meant that my brother and I got twice as much food to eat, to prevent us from grumbling. I therefore dedicate this post to that life-saving toilet, for introducing us to the gourmet delights of charming Commercial Street.

Most of the shops on Commercial street are atleast as old as I am, and many older than my grandmother. Which, I have been instructed by her to inform you, isn't that old, ok? But if you'd like to give the shopping a miss and concentrate like I do on the food, a good place to start is the slightly overpriced, but lovely Woody's.

Stop sniggering, I think the owners of Woody's wanted to do a hep take on Woodlands, a bigger restaurant chain, when they opened this joint. Do try their dee-licious kotte-kadabus from coastal Karnataka: fragrant rice idlies steamed in cylindrical baskets(called kottes) woven from thaaLe-yele leaves. Slurp. Don't hesitate to try all the other yummy stuff on their menu. As long as you can get over the staff who will ignore you even if you commit hara-kiri at the counter, and the mechanical lady who'll say "Towkenn Fifffty Ffffour" in an ominous voice every 5 minutes or so.

A couple of buildings to the left, is the famous Bhagatram Sweets. Legend has it that the stoves of Bhagatram have never stopped burning since the shop opened in 1948. I can say without hesitation, that they make the world's best Sindhi gulab jamoons. Also do try their gorgeous jalebis, their lovely dumroat (baked yellow pumpkin halwa) and their chandrakala (a gulab jamoon stuffed in a badshah dipped in kesar-flavoured syrup. Sob!). Their carrot halwa and their famous 4pm samosas are superlatively delicious too. They moved from their dungeon like shop (lovingly named the Tunnel of Love) into a rather ordinary place next door a couple of years ago. The charming couple (Mr and Mrs Bhagatram Jr.?) that manage the shop speak a singsong mish-mash of Tamil,Kannada, English and Sindhi to their staff and customers, that many people stop by just to listen to.

Diagonally across the street is Anand sweets, equally well known and just as delicious. Their chaat section has some rather unusual numbers that I'm a little hesitant to try. While they have an array of mouthwatering North Indian sweets, do try their badam milk - absolutely hits the spot after a hot and hassled shopping spree. If you're tired of sweet things to eat, step to the back lane of commercial street where you can eat some really yummy streetside dosa and those odd looking triangular samosas.

Midway down Commercial street is the lovely Shiv Sagar. This is a standard Udupi joint with a humungous vegetarian menu, often bordering on the bizarre. Their Mexican selection has enchiladas (more like enchina maarayas* actually) topped with kissan sauce, and their pizzas have about a km. of grated amul cheese on their heads. Eh, whom are we kidding, they're delicious. Eat your heart out, Naples. But if you're not in the mood for experimentation, their North Indian and Indian-chinese selection will definitely appeal to your palate. Not to mention their array of excellent idlis, dosas and other scrumptious South Indian specialities. Top it all off with a Gud-Bud (Udupi special sundae with a story), Merry Window Special, or one of the millions of other lovely sundaes on the menu. Sorry, but you definitely need to visit Shiv Sagar about 15 times before you can decide whether you like it or not.

At the end of commercial street (on Kamaraj Rd actually), is a little ice cream shop tucked away in the basement of a run down complex. If you havent eaten tamarind or jamoon ice cream before, you must go there. Seriously though, Natural Ice Creams has some delicious all-natural seasonal flavours that will suprise you. My favourites are tender coconut and sugarcane-ginger. Do cut them some slack though. They're usually poorly stocked and the staff is sometimes frosty, but they'll warm up to you once you make a few appreciative noises and solicious enquiries about the ice cream.

Around the corner from Naturals, on Dispensary road, is the yummy Lalita's paratha point. Really good parathas of every shape and flavour and some surprisingly good biriyani. Do try when you're starving and want a great, satisfying punjabi meal. A little further up the road from Lallo's is Tiwari bros, a Calcutta based sweet shop with standard issue marwari sweets and some nice samosa-kachori sort of situations to go with them. They don't use onions or garlic, so this is a good place for fussy foodies or couples who, um, intend to have a long romantic evening in close proximity.

And now that you've eaten, it's time to check out commercial street's shopping wonders (preferably in a car at 40kmph). Check out the famous ladies' lane and the chappal gully where you can easily waste away and die unnoticed waiting for your female companions to finish. Go to the Green Shop, Brown Shop, Royal Mens Wear, Jean Junction or Your Shop(pe) for clothes, suitcases and sundries. Take a dekko at Eastern Stores, Bangalore's biggest woollens shop until the eighties. The owner of Eastern Stores will weasel his way into your heart (and wallet) by saying endearing things like "This is your shop ma, your shop. Take it and go ma, yours only". Also check out the series of ladies' tailors (all named Mr Rao) on Dispensary rd., and C Krishniah Chetty and sons, an expensive but exquisite jewellery store in an antique building in the middle of the street. Do walk around and check out the scores of other venerable old shopping institutions on the street when you have the time.

Frankly though, two venerable institutions down and I'm ready to tank up on some yummy Bhagatram gulab-jamoons again.

*Enchina maaraya = "Whaaaat I say?" in Tulu

Missy M and the potter

Missy Morkozhambu, by the way, is the best baker in the world. And I don't say this lightly. There's sponge cake, and there's Missy M's sponge cake. There's chocolate torte and then there's hers. Worlds apart. And whoa, those cheesecakes! Slurp city downtown!

When Benson Town was under seige and all the shops had closed down, she stepped into her garden, plucked a papaya off her tree, mixed it with godhi hittu (aata) and baked a glorious papaya gateau. Another day she made a kothambri soppu (corriander), avocado and strawberry bread which was, well, interesting.

While she says the secret to her phenomenal baking is gobs of amul butter, I haven't given up searching her pantry for that little vial of magic potion that's actually responsible for it. The most wonderful part, however, is that I am her self-appointed food taster. With her success rate of 100%, I am only too happy to stuff myself to bursting capacity with all her goodies, while giving her my extremely satiated two-paisa opinions on them.

Missy M made a green almond sponge cake the other day, which she had layered with chocolate and pistachios. She'd also made an unpronounceable Italian dessert with bansi rava (semolina), and called wondering if I wanted to drop by and try them out. Didn't I just! In about 43 seconds, I was squeezing through her front door, trying to prevent Coco and Buster from squeezing in with me. Dogs out of the way, I addressed myself conscientiously to my assigned task of stuffing myself silly. No eggs, she announced, since it was Deepavali after all.

The almond sponge with pistachio and chocolate icing was wonderful, as expected. Or as Appa would say "Mundiriparuppu, pista, vennai, sakkarai ellaam potta kasakkumaa?" (Cashew, pista, butter, sugar, all put means bitter it will be aa?). As always though, there was Missy M's unmistakeable touch, that made it a superlative almond sponge with pistachio and chocolate icing.

A quick kodbaLe break later, I was onto my next arduous task: sampling the unpronounceable Italian dessert. It was a cake-like kesari bhath, with the consistency of a very very fluffy Mysore pak. I blinked appreciatively at the legendary baker, unable to move any more muscles in acknowledgement of her fantastic culinary creations.

"Alright", she announced, "I figure you could use a walk. Care for a stroll down Williams Town? I need to buy some clay lamps." "Glurgh", I replied, indicating that I needed to be rolled off the Benson Hill first. So off we went: one goggle-eyed cake-taster and one diligent baker-deepavalist.

Williams Town, though adjacent to Benson Town, is in stark contrast to it. It struck me as nice and quaint, though not particularly affluent or spectacularly beautiful. Neat rowhouses abutted a sweet looking park, in the old world Bangalore style. The vaulted mangalore-tiled roofs of the rowhouses stuck out at the back, while their modernized frontages lined the clean streets. A few 1950s-style biscuit boxes with rounded verandahs stood in pristine splendour in their little gardens. A bunch of boys, a gaggle of girls and an assembly of aunties stood around in groups discussing the happennings of the day. We saw kids bursting crackers and lighting lamps, old men readying themselves for the evening namaaz, and several young people at the shrine of the virgin, lighting candles and singing softly. I was amazed at the diversity, and charmed by the old-wordliness. Missy M snorted a pretty snort and strode on smugly, reminding me that we were in the Cantonment after all.

A few well-swept streets later, we found ourselves at the central square of Pottery Town. "Wow. There's a potter's square in Bangalore?", I said, looking around in amazement. "Um, yes", said Missy M, "but it's been here forever, and we've never thought of it as one." I gaped open-mouthed at the quaint potters' shops around the square. Huge terracota planters, lamps, urns and basins lay around everywhere. Shopkeepers looked up at us lazily and went back to doing nothing. I meandered off into one of the shops, fascinated by some large urlis that seemed perfect for my irritatingly non-blooming water lilies.

"Focus", said Missy M gently, as she dragged me into a shop where she spied the diyas that she wanted. The sweet toothless adukulajji (betelnut grandmother) at the shop took an instant liking to us and made us come into her house and see all her wares. Pots, that is. We bought about 75 lamps for 100 bucks or so, and walked back through Williams Town, stopping to admire a collection of unsold clay ganeshas that escaped this year's mass-drowning. I chattered incessantly about the quaintness of it all, until Missy M suggested cooingly that I shut the hell up, as she was getting a migraine. I muttered my remaining remarks to my sandals and followed her back home, where she fed me home-made pizza and sent me away.

So if you're into quaint small-town 1950s enclaves and aren't afraid of jumping across a nullah or two to buy some pottery real cheap, go check out Williams Town and Pottery Town. And if there's enough of you coming that way, I'll ask Missy M to set up a bake-shop shop next to adukulajji.

Monsoons on Moore Road

" 'Ey Clyde! Just 'eard de good news chy.. c'ngraats. "

"Thanks men, whe'yall went? I came 'ome last week but y'all weren't dere. "

"I was in Austrailyer chy, visiting Jo's brudder'n' 'is huncles. "

"Ah, say so! I was so 'fraid y'all ran off widdout telling me even. "

"G'on m'n, 'ow I'll go widout telling y'all. 'Ere only I'll stay until y'all drag me off. Hey what chy, I 'eard 'Arriet's come first in music 'n' all? Give 'er my love, no? What she'll do now? Litrachur ein?"

"No m'n, Im tellin'er to take up Cannadda. Never know when dey'll make it a bloomin' first language 'ere and land all of us in a bloomin' mess. "

"I know chy'. If y'ask me, dey should send us all 'ome and speak Cannadda till dey turn blue in de face. Dose Tumkur blue grapes are dere no? Laddat. "

"Whae' m'n. Hopp'tunities are much more now 'ere no, wid call centerz 'n'all 'iring like nob'dy's bloomin bizness. We c'n teach dose blighters a ting or two. "

"True chy. No point goin'way anymore. 'Appy we're 'ere only. "

"'Ey whats 'appning to de city m'n? 'Sbeen raining cats 'n' dogs all week! Miranda's 'ouse is c'pletely flooded, poor thing. Bluddy raining, raining all de bloomin' time. Never used t'be like dis in Bangalore b'fore, no? Gets me hangry whenever I tink about it. "

"No point gettin' hangry wid the rain chy. F'get it. 'Ow dose bloomin' corporation buggers've f'gotten our Seppings Road no, laddat. Umbrella y'ant eh? "

"No m'n, whats de use, I'm already soaked like a bluddy spongecake even. Hevvry day 's' bin raining m'n, like bloomin' Cherrapunji. "

"I know chy. If y'ask me, we should change the name of Roger's Road to River's road I swea'. You sh'look at 'ow much water's c'llected dere. "

"I swea'. Dat Lloyd's dere no, in Hulsoor, tell'im to repai' 'is boat 'n' bring, we c'n row down de street hevery Sunday. "

"Ey by de way, I 'eard Jake's got a new job 'n' all? "

"No men, 'oo'll give 'im a job. But I swear, 'f 'e doesnt get one soon, 'e'll 'ave it from me. What 'e thinks, dis is a bloomin' soup kitchen or what. I'll give him two bluddy uppercuts on 'is kidneys and kick 'is bloomin bottom out of d'ouse 'f'e doesn't find a job soon."

"What chy, 'e's only 25 no, littl'un 'e is. Let 'im find 'is hown feet first chy. Den y'all c'n 'dvise 'im."

"But I'm so 'fraid m'n. 'E's getting into bad company wid all these Cannadda boys from college. Dunno whe' 'e's 'eaded, dat boy. Praying hevrryday 'e doesnt become like dat Leslie bugger men. Sitting shamelessly at 'ome wid his mudder. "

"Whae' chy, 'is mum wants 'im dere no? 'Oo'll look hafter 'er udderwise. All dese old biddies no, clever dey are. If y'ask me, dey should all sudd'ly dis'pear from de planet in a puff of smoke. 'Ow dose Thoms' mutton puffs dis'pear after Sunday mass no, laddat. "

"Krekt, I swea'! Hokay m'n, come by at Christmas ein? And give my love to Lizzie, Ralphie and Hannabel."

"Cert'ly. Y'all coming f'de wedding no? "

"G'on chy, has if we'll miss it! G'bye, God Bless. "

"G'bye!"

I Cantt. help it I say.

My earliest memories of Bangalore are of arriving at the Bangalore Cantonment station at 4 in the morning, and spotting my grandparents waiting for us in the morning mist. They’d scoop my brother and me up in their arms and whisk us off home in a pink ambassador. Their interesting taste in car colours, and the years they spent in weight training in order to scoop fat grandsons off station floors made them strange, but strong people.

I must grudgingly admit to being a sucker for colonial hangovers. I love the little self-contained towns of the cantonment, I love its chilled out people, its charming old worldliness and its beautiful old churches. I love the Catholic Club, complete with old biddies sailing somberly across the dance floor. And I love its street names, that get curiouser and curiouser as one goes easter and easter. Moore road, Ware road, O’Shaugnessey road, Broadway street, Seppings road, Primrose road. Uff, what loverliness and mystery I say! A friend once called me a cantonment wannabe. She’s right, but she’s a Malleshwaram and morkozhambu wannabe herself, so there.

The street names of the cantonment can only be matched in coolness by the names of the cantonment towns. Frazer Town, a case in point, is about the busiest part of the cantonment. Here is where I spend most of my time lurking around friends’ homes waiting for Christmas to happen, so I can sing carols for my supper (or kalkals, cake and home made wine as the case may be). And if that doesnt work, there's always Thom’s at the end of Promenade road, a nice bakery close to the beautiful St John’s church. Thom's is the ideal spot to check out crotchety old ladies in polka dotted dresses accompanied by equally ancient handmaidens called Anthonyamma. But if thats not your thing to do, you could walk down to Sherlock Holmes, a nice 80s pub on Cole’s road. Or check out Taipan, an 80s restaurant that has a hoary tradition of serving near-chinese food in near-darkness, lest you catch sight of what lurks beneath the sofas.

Benson town is a little more ghettoed, though it still has some very pretty bungalows such as the beautiful cottage that belongs to my mudslinging morkozhambu loving friend. Dewar’s Inn, a crazy crumbling joint near the cantt station, is the oldest pub in Bangalore. It has large rattan chairs and grumpy waiters who serve you drinks from out of a godrej almirah. Love it, love it.

Jayamahal, next to Benson Town, is named after the Jayamahal Palace. Once the summer residence of the peshwa of god knows where, it is now a deliciously run down hotel that looks straight from out of a horror movie. The old courtyard used to be open to the sky until the management ran out of silver bullets on full moon nights. It now has a noisy aluminium roof that I’m hoping will blow away this monsoon, so I can howl at the moon from atop my table in peace again. Elements, a safer but essentially avoidable lounge bar on Nandidurg road closeby, seems to draw a fair share of the yuppie crowd. But its not the average Jayamahal Palace goer's cup of blood for sure.

Cooke Town is arguably the prettiest part of the Cantonment, with the lovely Richard’s park, old cottages lining the streets, cute little squares with Goan names, and the often bypassed Bangalore East Railway Station.

Other places in the cantonment that the intrepid (and terribly jobless) traveler might want to check out, are the posh but dusty Langford Town, the once charming Richmond Town, the ungraceful Grace town, the oddly named Cox town, and the Tam stronghold of Austin town where the infant Jesus lives in bathroom tiled splendor.

Honestly though, Id give Baby JC a skip any day, to walk around the cantonment’s two most famous streets: South Parade (MG Road) and Brigade Road. They are the pride, joy and dearest treasure of every Bangalorean. To mud(Mg road Up & Down) and to bud (Brigade road Up & Down) are the two most productive pastimes in Bangalore. Those that haven't yet understood the benefits of these supremely pleasurable activities must come see me immediately.