So a couple of friends of mine finally decided to say balls to block timings now that we’re graduates. I don’t see the point now… Mangalore sleeps at 9:00 pm. I hated the city the moment I saw it. And I still hate it for having no culture of its own, save a few instances like the kite festival. And I also hate it for making sure that the student population has no need whatsoever to learn Kannada/Tulu. No self-respect, no whatever. God, and I thought Bangalore was bad in that respect!
Oh, and the malls! So there is this place that calls itself “99 Varieties of Dosas”. I ask the man at the counter, “Ondu neer dose“. He laughs and says, “Adhu illi sigalla”. This is Mangalore only, no? How come no neer dosa? I ask. He smiles back.
Go to hell, I’m pleased as can be that I’m getting back to my own city with its myriad darshinis and places like Nammura Hotel where I don’t have to shell out half the GDP of Vanuatu every time I want to eat out, and where I get to eat the cuisine I’m used to, and love. I hate it that inspite of being so close to Udupi, there are hardly any Udupi restaurants in this damn place within easy reach. And I hate it that I’ve not combed the streets of Mangalore looking for them anytime in these four years, and just taken it for granted the cuisine of Mangalore is to be found in the desserts at Cherry Square.
Oh, and Manipal. Billboard city. Not a single tree, or even a blade of grass. I hate it more than I hate Mangalore.
Bangalore… I hate it that our culture is now officially Pub City. Identify the whole damn population with alcohol, paint us all with the same brush, go on. “You don’t drink?? I thought all Bangaloreans drink!!”, a Kolkatan friend once said. I’m not pissed with the alcohol bit… just that it’s too broad a generalization. “Pensioners Paradise” implies it’s just a great place if pensioners want to live here, not that every Thomas, Richard and Harold is a pensioner. Why does no one recognize the polyglot culture, the fact that we are the only city in the world apart from New York to show movies in six languages or more? Why don’t people talk of Suchitra Film Society, or Gayana Samaj? Or even Alliance Francaise, Max Mueller Bhavan, Indian Institute of World Culture, or that we have one of the best chapters of Toastmasters’?
I haven’t quite figured out why yet… when I’m neck-deep in last-minute coding, my mind runs in all sorts of absurd directions and comes up with lines like “The model eating the banana split was worried it was all going to waist”, and “Hardly anyone goes to Crumbz (known for its pastries) these days… it’s so desserted”. I also take to singing songs like “Lal lal hoton pe gori kiska naam hai”.
I’ve also realized that there are a few people here I’m really glad to get away from. And tolerating them these four years or less was an experience all by itself; something I’m glad for, for now I know the sort of people I should avoid.
And another thing I’ve found out is that it’s very hard to find people who share all your interests. And that you need not have much in common with someone to be good friends. And having things in common is no indication of a great friendship.
Something Pooh said comes to mind now… “It is easier to find someone to marry than to find someone to work with”. I don’t know about how easy it is to find someone you would like to marry, but finding someone to work with is downright hell, I’ve found. But when you do find someone, there’s nothing quite like it.
I feel there’s a certain amount of disgruntledness in everyone’s mental make-up, and that’s the driving force behind any sort of action. Cribbing is a normal facet of life, a necessity, I would say. It helps you analyze things better, makes you more articulate, and lets you acknowledge you have a problem. And no amount of making things better can remove the minimum quota of disgruntledness a normal person is supposed to have.
And at the end of it all, I know I’ve left a lot unsaid, or half-said, or said very badly. A couple of months back, I compressed four years’ worth into one line which indicated nothing except in a nutshell… no point … I know second chances are hard to come by, but I can only hope.
My most memorable times have not just been all the Incidents, and the Engineers, but also a great number of incidents and with a good many engineers.
PS: I know the last line sounds slightly meaningless… but I just had to say it for its own sake.. kindly adjust.
In a reader
The NITK Numbskulls Page 
No good udupi hotels here – Because the good ones are the ones who’ve sensible owners who’ve reasoned that they should go to a place where the name sells and they’re in more demand and held in high esteem.
Coz in Udupi, they just call it a “hotel”….
Manipal’s been royally screwed systematically for the past few years.Unfortunate.
Blore the Pub city. Cheers to that..
@Pooh – ha ha…
And the last line said it all… Bril.
No neer dose in _Mangalore_? Most surprising.
(As far as I can remember, they’re all the rage just across the state border, a little down south. And what purpose does _one_ neer dose serve? Appetizer?)
Some of us do remember the original Dakshina Kannada culture (what little there was of it), including Tulu and its accompanying accoutrements. It’s just that we’re no longer the residents.
Now Bangalore is an entirely different matter.
Hey,
I rarely comment on any blog(since I believe no two individuals need to share the same thought on every subject).I agree you can hardly find any Darshinis here. However it seems that you have been going to the wrong places.I dont go to malls but do go to assorted set of places.Didn’t you have any Mangalorean friend, who told you were to get good food? At least isnt there any girl from M’lore in the college?
For all the good Dosas, you could have gone to “Dosa Camp”. And how do you define a “Udipi” restaurant? People around this place do not call it so, since all normal hotels are like that! Wouldnt it look rather dumb to call a Hotel, North Indian Restaurant in North India? Similar story here.
Chandler : “Of course, there, they’d just call it food.”
@all:
i meant idlis and dosas and the like… not the label.
@karthik:
one neer dosa was the end to a long long long session of eating.
@spai:
>>I rarely comment on any blog(since I believe no two individuals need to share the same thought on every subject)
what does one have to do with another?
>>Didn’t you have any Mangalorean friend, who told you were to get good food?
lack of time, lack of inclination, and hangout group comprising mainly north-indian food fanatics, chinese food fans and pizza lovers.
The model eating the banana split was worried it was all going to waist.
Hehe, kinda like “Man who drops watch in toilet has shitty time.” (Sorry, I’m pretty unclassy that way 😦 )
But you know, a part of me is glad that all the good things in Bangalore are not all that famous because only then I get to enjoy the Film Festivals in Suchitra Film Society and everything else I like about Bangalore (Though I guess I’d be happy for Suchitra Film Society if there were a lot more people). Why, SLV is crowded all the time, and it’s been a long time since I’ve eaten a Vidyarthi Bhavan masale. I miss it, but scratch that, the place is filled all the time. ISKCON was amazing when the temple had a thatched roof and was atop a hillock where we’d play as children. I don’t see the hillock at all now. And neer dOse in a hotel is so pointless, I’ve decided. The other day I went to this “Mangalorean” restaurant called Kudla and I decided to have the neer dOse. It was terrible, nothing like what my friends’ mothers prepare and it cost quite a lot. The real bummer though, was when he asked me what side dish I wanted and I said “Oh, coconut chutney koDtIralla?” and he said “Yes, ma’am. Eshtra saarju.” and told me a bowl cost 50 bucks. Bastards. The nerve! I should’ve gotten up and walked off. I think we are too nice for our own good.