Iyer Mess, Salem & Ammu Mess- Here We come!!!

I was an obsessive kid, a complete irony in comparison with the character of my parents, the simplest beings on earth. I haven't achieved much, hell I wasn't even close to getting top ranks in my class; at studies I wasn't actually obsessive but when it came to things like cartoons, games, toys, nuts, bolts, tyres, wires and bulbs etc I was insanely attached. I used to fathom that anything that had managed to gain my attention and had made me feel attracted to it belonged to me and I had to own it even though it was impossible to own certain things at times inappropriate. I guess I have not grown up since the time I had to let go off the blue toy jeep, one of my favorite toys that I remember till date. The only difference now is the things that make me feel depressed, joyous, excited, brood or sulk over are different and the only similarity is that these things are still meaningless I am sure to grow over them just like I lost interest in my toys but at this very present moment, I have lost the discerning sense to think and contemplate about these facts. In short, I am depressed and brooding and sulking over things, moments and people whom I can never own or make mine. And each time I undergo this complex mélange of emotions, I ask myself is it possible to change the person you are?? Don't the traces show even later in your life? And is it possible to forget someone completely or erase one from your memory forever?

Ok!! Enough of depressive talk nor for some gilma (I have no idea where I got this word from, I guess GA used it first) talk. My room mates and me are such big eaters that once we had an egg eating competition in the nearby mess (yes the same mess where the cats patrol up and down alongside tables and where asking for a spoon is a serious crime and dealt with severity of that of a POTA act) and the mess owner had to literally plead us to stop our egg eating competition. We had eaten a total of 32 eggs and the hotel was out of clean plates so the last of the eggs were left on our table in the serving plates itself. These messes are perfect epitomes of the ideology "Unity in Diversity", you would find a northie sitting next to a southie, complete strangers and yet the southie would be teaching the northie how to break a piece of chapatti (Indian bread as they call it in continental culinary language, for the socialites who might stumble upon the place) using just 2 fingers of your right hand. I do not know how do they do it but eating with your left hand is another crime that might provoke unpleasant gestures like banging of plates by the servers on your table and another southie becoming doubtful about your origin as an Indian. And mind it, elbows dripping with sambar and making small hand grenades (rice balls) out of the rice served are few other things that one would notice and need to learn at these messes.

So, yes where were we, yea, I was talking about big eaters and after such a heavy meal our expedition takes a different turn. Note this ritual happens every night. SH stops for his hot badam milk at a bakery close by (yep, you got it right the same malu bakery where dogs are mascots welcoming you at the entrance and juices are made in huge quantities).NG, peeps into the refrigerator and points at the cold badam milk can, he is becoming an expert at sign language, this fellow is talented you know, 2.5 yrs in Bangalore and he has managed without knowing any of the 3 main languages spoken here, Tamil, Hindi or Kanada. He points at the tin of cold badam milk and asks the shopwala "fresh hain/irruka". The already confused shopwala replies "Yes its fresh”. Now I don’t understand why people ask this question every time they go to buy some edible stuff. Do they expect the shopwala to say "No, it’s not fresh, come later" or do they want him to accept that the whole tin was packed and distributed in his own back yard beside an open drain. Would any shopkeeper do that? And that too for a tinned can. The shopkeepers in our area can’t even read the expiry date on the cans. So I play safe ask for a Pepsi for me and GA and take it down in one gulp. There is more, we stop at every bakery, departmental store buying something or the other ranging from chikis to toffees (I take the credit for this) and the finally ending the mission with bananas. The amount that we spend on our various edible desires is so much that if ever a calculation was made we would have equaled the amount consumed and spent by any African, hungry nation on food.

Look this blog also works as a complete guide for the people who might shift into this suburban area of Bangalore. So go ahead and polish your vocabulary, might be useful in messes all over south India.

Ask for "Full tea"- most likely the shopkeeper would give you frootie. Did you even know that there was something called the full tea and half tea?? ..

Strepsils- The pharmacist might just naughtily grin at you and secretly slip a pack of condoms into your hands.

Ever heard of half egg puff, full egg puff...

Ok! This thing makes me go into peels of laughter, "Dil-Pasand". Triangular shaped bread stuffed with cherries, jam and some sweet coconut gratings. I guess some excited malu who loved cherries and had a burning desire to be loved by people must have coined this name.

Motta-Veech- this one is tricky it’s a Tamil phrase for a chapatti which has an omelet stuck to one of its sides.

Kalakki- this one is hard to explain, a half cooked omelet and folded to look like small sac like structure. Real tasty stuff.

Half Boiled- not exactly a boiled egg but a bull’s eye is refereed to as half boiled in these messes. It’s universal and not a mistake here.

Barrotta- Nothing close to parathaas but a pan cake made out of something quite different from wheat.

1/2 - Lime juice. One lime juice is poured into 2 glasses, perfect quantity for the couple that believes in more talk and eats less.

Kuska- Briyani flavored rice but no meat pieces. You can call it the poor man's briyani.