Variar Bakery- A Walk Down Memory Lane

Take a stroll on the 12^th main road in Rajajinagar of Bangalore and a waft of sweet baked scent will drag you to the legendary bakery of OG Variar & Sons located in an inconspicuous corner near ESI Hospital. Govinda Variar, a native of Kerala is the founder of this place who used to bake at night with rented ovens and sell them during the day in Guttahalli. Eventually he opened a bakery in Rajajinagar in 1955 and the popularity kept growing. They also have a branch near Dhobi Ghat on Chord Road. The aroma in fact defines the traffic junction, that’s the only thing that makes waiting for the signal to turn green bearable.

Nothing in the world matches the yumminess of their Dil Pasand laden with all the tutti-frutti and coconut or the perfect puffiness of their Veg Puff with the right amount and kind of vegetable stuffing. The ever loyal customer base of these bakers par excellence will agree with me. Their range of biscuits and fresh breads are a must try. Fortunately they do not use any preservatives or colouring substances. A team of the most cordial men clad in white will attend to you one by one, mind you there maybe serpentine queues while their signature items like milk biscuits, ‘benne’ biscuits and ‘khara’ biscuits fly off the shelves when they are still warm from the oven.

Transactions for the ladies are easier here; we have a separate ‘Ladies Counter ‘to attend to our orders. I remember Appa asking me to stand at that particular counter so that we could get our order faster. There was a time when people used to buy these items from the bakery in modest amounts. These were small luxuries of life which were brought home only on special occasions, if brother or I wrote our exams well or our cousins were visiting home. Today I saw some pistoriophiles at the counter buying biscuits and cakes in kilo grams!

 One of the most exceptional things about this place is its originality. No matter which day of the year you go their biscuits, breads and cakes taste remarkably the same.  Therefore binging on them might not be good for health as Govinda Variar himself opined once but trying them is definitely a must! Today I literally walked down the memory lane and got a lot of their goodies home.

-R.

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As Kids See It

There is something specially striking about this signboard. Isn’t it more inviting than it is supposed to be? This is on the door of my 11 year old nephew’s room. I was compelled to enter after seeing this. Fortunately I survived the voltage, the weapons, the guns and the explosives ;-) It completely overwhelmed me, this level of imagination. Perhaps because it reminded me of what I put up on my room door when I was a kid. Thoughts were simple back then, a Winnie-The-Pooh or a crayoned flower would do. 

Kids these days have exposure to a lot of things unlike the medieval times I belong to, and this little fellow seemed nothing short of a genius to me when I had this inspiring conversation with him this afternoon. It deserved a write up on this blog.

“Do you really have them inside your room?” I asked him and chuckled.

“Haha Raksha Chikki, you don’t know that much also?” he questioned me in return and jumped on his bed doing his typical antics.

I looked at him with amusement.

“You think I am Yakub or what, I have to become like Abdul Kalam to make some super strong ones!” he said adjusting his spectacles and grinding his bunny teeth.

I am a proud aunt today. Sometimes we don't need treaties and conventions to make this world a better place. If we make sense, a sense which helps us know what is right and what is wrong it will eventually make peace. A kid sees something what we adults don't.

-R.

Happy Teacher's Day

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To all those people who tread the less chosen path so that the others acquire enough insight and discretion about the working ways of this world. To all the good Miss Wormwoods of our lives from kindergarten to college, we are because of what you are, a Happy Teacher's Day :-)

-R.

Entirely Up To You Dick Darling - My Old Gentleman

A cousin of mine was telling me a very interesting thing last Saturday; some movies that we watch during childhood have a lasting impact on our thought process he said. I did agree. They make us who we are. Inspiration does not take longer than striking a match during that phase of life. We ended up discussing about all those beautiful movies that we used to watch way back then, a very nostalgic conversation that one was, there was no end to our flashbacks. And all that while I had one particular John Williams sound track from a movie running in my mind. 

A while ago when I heard that this man has left us, I could not get this one scene out of my head for hours, it is from an another adorable movie. The love with which he waves his hand from inside the carriage every time the train passes by, it just makes me wish for a Grandpa like him.  If you have watched the movie ‘The Railway Children’ and remember the character of The Old Gentleman who does everything possible for the three kids in the movie, you know whom I am missing and talking about. Or I am sure you remember the quirky scientist John Hammond, wearing a white shirt and a hat, walking around with a stick like he owns a normal zoo and says “Dr Grant, my dear Dr Sattler, welcome to Jurassic Park!”

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I belong to the category of people who have graduated their childhood through this movie and derived a hell lot of inspiration to learn about evolution only to realize how minuscule we humans are, and hence this feeling, I have lost a teacher. “How can we stand in the light of discovery, and not act?” he had said. Even Spielberg considered him as an inspiration. It is indeed amazing how we connect to people whom we have never met. No wonder I had that soundtrack running in my reverie.

Although internationally acclaimed and awarded for his direction with the film ‘Gandhi’ in which Lord Richard Attenborough had literally put his life into his work and many of his other films which he has directed or acted in; like Brighton Rock, The Great Escape, Doctor Dolittle and Chaplin to cite a few, I have always remembered him as a white bearded Santa Claus like old man with a odd gap between his central incisors which kind of inspires even the dullest man on this earth to smile.  

I happened to read one of his interviews in the Guardian in 2008 now, and I could not stop myself from sharing. Here is the link : Richard Attenborough on laughter, levity and the loss of his daughter. Most of us know about our actors and directors as artists and nothing beyond that. We appreciate and laud them for their work but rarely do end up getting a personal connect. Today I cried, because with Dick like he preferred to be called, I had one. A part of my childhood and science, I owe entirely up to him. Thank you for making it beautiful.

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Rest in peace Lord Dick Attenborough. 

-R.

Hamara Bajaj

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“Appa! Appa! Akka illa!” squeaked my brother sitting behind my father who was riding this Bajaj Super and it was two cross roads later that Appa figured out that I had fallen off somewhere. My left knee and elbow carry scars in remembrance of that terrible accident. And this was because like most kids who have a normal childhood do we the little duo had the habit of flying our imaginary aeroplanes sitting in the opposite direction holding the Stepney tyre when Appa would take us out, just that I happened to be a bad pilot that one time and crash landed with a thud. Everyone in the house still laughs about this, not because of my fall but Appa’s very timely realization.

This two-wheeler is a family pride sort of thing and to this day lies in one corner in my grandma’s place.My uncle uses it on rare occasions. I noticed it this summer and memories from a separate compartment of my mind came flashing back, those thousand rides round and round through the town, fights to stand in front, kick start tries, tilts when the petrol was almost over and my brother’s amusing decorative stickers, it has survived them all. Some of them in the front are still shining. What splendid days they were, going out anywhere was fun, time moved at its own pace and speed was the last need. Plenty of the Indian households especially the ones who remember their 90s will hum along if I start singing the jingle’ Hamara kal hamara aaj, buland Bharath ki buland tasveer, HAMARA BAJAJ ’. Here it is for some reminiscence:

Riding on the roads has improved drastically with the new age bikes and cars. If you see the commercials on air most of them are about a desperate hulk on the bike with a couple of females getting wooed, a vehicle is meant only for that really? Duh! Today we find ourselves more annoyed, less entertained, more disturbed and less informed before we even realize and ignore these advertisements. Who shows or looks at the simple joys of life? Special little things and those special little moments. Very soon even nostalgia shall be a thing of the past. While writing this, just out of curiosity I asked Appa if by any chance he remembers the number of what used to be one of his prized possession, “KA-02, S-2478” he replied without a second thought.I smiled.

 "Memory is a way of holding on to the things you love 

the things you are the things you never want to lose"

-The Wonder Years-

Churmuri

Most of you would have read this blog Churmuri- Swalpa sihi, swalpa spicy at some point or the other. The tagline of the blog more than the name always made me smile. Yesterday on the way back home after an evening walk tempted by the smell, sound and sight of this eye more than mouth watering thing I crossed the road and ordered for one. I couldn't help it, my childhood summer snack was calling and how could I refuse. Sometimes I do have a sweet tooth for not so sweet things.


"Swalpa khara jasti" I heard a guy saying to the churmuri fellow. "Nangu kooda" I added. We exchanged smiles. Well weird situations in which you connect with random people on the road. I don't know how those hands get the balance between swalpa (little) and jasti (more) but they do blend every minute ingredient and flavour with perfection. And what an amazing talent that is! Looking at his hand move all I could think was that he definitely earns more than I do. Some of them have their secret recipes too, even if you get them and try to make you shall never be any close.
 

‘Khara' means spicy, equivalent to the ‘Teeka’ of Puchkas. Be it any corner of this country we Indians are gifted with super power taste buds for such things aren’t we? Churmuri is so like us. So much spice but very much nice. If you are planning to have it make sure that it is made of coconut oil and has a lot of onions, tomatoes, carrots, raw mangoes and of course groundnuts ;-) 

While was done with mine, the random guy advises: 

“Arey! How can you go without trying the Southekai masala, this fellow is known for it!” 

So try I had to, and I did. 

-R

A Friend Called Barbie

Childhood is like your little haven, and whenever you are reminded of it you just cant stop thinking 'Wish some things stay for life'. Few days ago when I was out finding some toddler stuff in a toy shop for a nephew of mine I had a reunion of sorts with someone who kind of lived with me in my childhood. I admired her then, I admire her now. It is a normal girl thing to grow up with for most of us who have known her maybe.

I had always prayed for her on every birthday of mine and had finally got her on one such occasion only when my folks were sure that I would take care of her well. This time I saw her behind the glass pane amidst the heap of toys with the same smile and grace. When I looked at her I was reminded of my first and only one, frankly I never really got to make a collection like many girls would have. Back in those days she came in a lot of new and interesting attires, with all those family dolls like Kelly, Stacie, Nikki and many more. But Ken was someone whom I never found any handsome, I always thought she deserved much more for the princess that she was.

I always have wondered what makes every little girl yearn for her. She is convincingly pretty and therefore popular, very understandable. Ain't into some anti beauty campaign here. But isn't this a genuine question, aren't there many other dolls in the toy shops out there who are pretty and cute. The ones with rolling blue eyes who bat their eyelids, dance around and sing beautiful songs. But what makes Barbie a Barbie?:-)

To me she was always special amongst all my dolls. I plaited her hair and dressed her up in front of her dressing mirror, cooked in that dummy kitchen, folded her clothes and kept them in that tiny cupboard. Basically did what every other girl does with her dolls! And for some strange reason when I saw her again I could not believe that I did so much and all that! I know all this sounds silly right now in my twenties, but in some phase of life this was nothing but naive fun. You know where it strikes and how it feels when you miss such things. I was tempted to take her home this time too,the child in me could not resist but my folks around me did and gave me a look which almost meant in a few years down the lane you may be taking her home for your kid. Some things change, but they do happen again :-)

Tell me your Barbie stories, I am sure all of you out there have one :-)

-R.

A Left Out Story

A disclaimer before we begin, this is no tale of grief but just a left hander's perspective based on a naïve assumption that my fellows are of a similar opinion. The trouble with being a left hander is that there is too much trouble left here and there, every now and then. One can't really blame the right ways of the world, but I have to remind you the weirdness with which we are looked at more than often.

When the talk is about creative skills most of us are considered exceptionally gifted, provided the right half of our brain decides to contribute to it. I till date have not completely understood the association. It is hard to be unamused when we hear “Oh you are a leftie!” and to be stared at as though someone picked us from the museum and dropped us in the middle of a busy street. I get to hear this every alternate day. And on numerous occasions while writing I have been asked to demonstrate the power of my right handedness as well. My right hand though is slow for quite obvious reasons, thank Almighty it never lets me down.

Coming to the matter of concern, if anyone cares to bother about what is so significantly bothering the left handers or the left outs, whatever one may like to call us there are certain things they better know. The handshakes, the shirt buttons, the door handles, the scissors, the writing desks or things not so us are not our major quirks. There are many issues else on the left which need to be considered right in all sense.

Our world is no turvytopsy, it is just that we look at it from a different angle, sane nevertheless. We are not bestowed with left handedness to garner attention, and yes most of us are so by birth. We did not decide to turn into one on a fine sunny morning. The left hand to us is as pious, as fair and as neat as the right. For all the world knows, we can use our right hand much better than how most of the right handers use their left. Legend has it that most of the left handers turn into stars and celebrities, lets not forget that it takes a lot along with left handedness to be a Da Vinci, a Einstein, a Gandhi, a Chaplin, a Obama, a Cruise, a Pitt, a Jolie, a Bachan or a Sachin and fortunately most of us own that too. The list will never stop. We lefthanders are humans, well let’s agree that who are gifted in a way or the other. So says a proud lefty and signs off ;-)

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-R.

A Perfect Fairy Tale

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Dad: He took her hand, and he kissed it. Then he swooped her up onto his horse. And the beautiful princess and the handsome prince rode off to his castle...where they lived happily ever after... 

Sam: Do fairy tales come true, Dad?. 

Dad: Well, no. But dreams come true. 

Sam: Do you have a dream?

Dad: Yeah. My dream is that you'II grow up and go to college and then maybe someday you'II build your own castle.

Sam: Where do princesses go to college?

Dad: They go...where the princes go. They go to Princeton.But, Sam, you know, fairy tales aren't just about finding handsome princes.They're about fulfilling your dreams...and about standing up for what you believe in. As I always say, never let the fear of striking out keep you from playing the game.

If you have watched the movie 'A Cinderella Story', this father daughter conversation in one of the first few scenes may seem familiar. When I watched it I could not help but smile because this is what precisely I have been hearing from my Dad all through my life. Some fathers are typical, aren't they? They want their daughter not to be any prince's princess but they want them to be their own queen, strong and independent. Nothing else makes them proud.

Very long ago when I was in class three I had played the role of Cinderella in a drama during the annual school day function. The flowing cloud blue dress and the dark blue tiptoeing shoes are etched in my memory forever. The movie stirred those good and naive times of childhood. What I remember even more is the excitement with which Dad and Mom were running around the whole town for a week or so in a search for the perfect attire. And when I was on the stage wearing what they had brought me their happiness knew no bounds.Isn't it wonderful, the smile on the face of someone to whom you mean the world, especially when you are the reason behind it?

Fulfilling your dreams and standing for what you believe in is worth more than any crown which can make you a princess is what I have always been told, just like Sam. If you know what you want to be and where you want your life to go there is nothing like it, now that is exactly what I call a perfect fairy tale. I believe in it, do you?:-)