When Kids Thronged to Doll Houses

When Kids Thronged to Doll Houses

Children in Bangalore looked forward to Dasara not only for the holidays and goodies but for the doll arrangement too. They loved to take part in the ritual of unpacking the clay dolls and toys from the old steel trunks on the attics and to scoop sand from the garden and spread it out in the hall to lay a little park. At the end of the nine-day display, they would then reluctantly let their parents put the dolls away and clear the park from the hall.
During the entire nine-day show, well-groomed little children in small groups would walk from door to door, dressed in their finery, inquiring if there was a doll display in the house. The house would invariably have a display and though the household is not acquainted with the little visitors, it would not only let them in willingly, but offer them special Dasara dishes on condition that the children sing a song. And  after gawking at the dolls, rendering the song and polishing off the last morsel from the plate, the toddler team would move to the next house.
The annual packing and unpacking invariably takes its toll on the dolls. A porcelain dog could lose its tail or a clay soldier his head and hence, as a custom, new dolls are added for each Dasara and they could  be clay, porcelain or wood.
The park would include a green patch which is usually ragi that's sown  in advance. An overenthusiastic boy sometimes mistakes mustard for ragi and after a few days finds white sprouts instead of a green hedge. And in an effort to squeeze in the entire collection in the park, the family is forced to let the clay tiger stand shoulder to shoulder with a porcelain lamb.
Besides the park, there's a dolls' gallery of different levels made out of the grandma's cot and the little child's study table, covered with the grandpa's white dhoti.
Strobe lights, little fountains and some themes would make up the display.
This used to be an annual ritual at homes in the city till recently. The shift from old bungalows with sprawling gardens and spacious halls to cramped apartments has meant the custom has fallen by the wayside. There's no garden from which to scoop sand from and no big hall to flaunt the doll display.
But though the tradition has been fading away to an extent, some staunch city residents have been making it a point to keep it alive. Shops have been displaying their collections and a whole lot of idols of Indian Gods of Chinese make besides traditional clay and wooden dolls are on offer.
vijaysimha@newindinaexpress.com

Jayanagar, from hiss to buzz

With the city growing at this pace, it is inevitable for some people to settle for life in the outskirts.

Pioneers of Jayanagar, today’s throbbing locality, would remember their extension as the outskirts that sprung up beyond South End, which really used to be city’s southern edge. They would remember the layout as a well laid out settlement with wide roads and pavements, with provision for all the civic amenities, but still were not in place. Today’s Jayanagar was a far cry from it was when it was just formed. It is hard to imagine today that its residents had to put up with mud roads, lack of communication and transport facilities. Autorickshaw drivers dreaded coming to the locality and venturing out after 7 pm was forbidden. There were a few shops but the most profitable trade seemed to be snake catching, for there used to be a cobra sighting practically every night.

With few people daring to build houses and move in, the nearest human habitation was Yediyur village, today’s VI Block. The Moplah’s ubiquitous “Kaka Angadi” here served as a green grocer and provision store. Lack of houses, however had an advantage as the vacant sites afforded short cuts to the nearest milk booth past the Aane Bande or Elephant Rock, a natural rock formation and a famous Jayanagar landmark, and to the nearest bus stand at IV Block. The end of IV Main, the beautiful Lakshman Rau Boulevard, was really the end of the world.

Soon, children got to stand outside their houses and cheer as the road roller levelled the first layer of asphalt in front of their houses. The Cauvery began to flow through the brass taps soon and the boulevard and vacant sites served as their play grounds. While the Madhavan Park ground and the pool next to it groomed budding sportspersons and swimmers, the new City Central Library introduced them to the literary world.

The Mini Market on vacant shop sites in IV Block was Jayanagar’s source for veggies till the big shopping complex came up in the late 70s on the land originally meant for the general hospital.

A couple of banks and schools which nurtured some of Bangalore’s well known citizens, made life livable and a hall called Shankar Krupa was the venue for the residents’ cultural pursuits.

Today, the metro may promise the residents quick access to the city centre but has taken its toll on Jayanagar’s famous landmark, the Lakshman Rau Boulevard. Its other celebrated landmark, the imposing shopping complex is abuzz with activity, but seems to have robbed its surroundings of the quietude that it once enjoyed. The pioneers, who once wondered whether life would ever be livable in Jayanagar, are probably asking the question again of their favourite locality.

vijaysimha@newindianexpress.com

Who dares diet in B'lore?

A glance at Bangalore's streets in the evenings makes one wonder if it is a city of starving souls. At almost every street corner, the scene repeats itself. As deft fingers of the roadside vendor mix the ingredients with expertise to come up with a titillating treat, fidgeting hands can't wait to grab the plate and dive into the dish.
From the days when eating out was an occasional diversion, to the present, where abstaining would bring on withdrawal symptoms, Bangalore now caters to every craving.
From Udupi style to Andhra and Chettinad and from north Karnataka to Punjabi and Bengali, there's something for everyone.
Restaurants were where barefoot waiters in dhotis walked up to your table, gripping four tumblers of water in one hand to take your order. Just one questioning look from you and he would chant the menu with all eloquence: "Idly, vada, dosa, kara bath, kesari bath, poori, rava idly, bonda...'', only to stop with the anticlimactic "By-two coffee" order from you. The strong smell of tobacco and the aromas of the sambar, coffee and dosa used to happily mingle, for the restaurants were places where smokers had their drags over a coffee. The loud conversations of the clients, the waiter's shouts to the kitchen, the cashiers bell, the dumping of the washed tumblers into the tray, all made for one noisy experience.
Today, with the advent of stand-up cafes, one bites and bolts. You can buy an entire meal from a hole-in-the-wall shop and savour Chinese delicacies off push carts where the spellings of the items are as original as their taste. This is another evidence of how Bangalore has gone global. Besides Chinese noodles, fried rice, Manchurians and mo mos, Continental and Mediterranean food too have gone to the streets.
The paani puri gaadi used to be the generic name for the chaat vendor on the cart. Today, chaat comes from across the country and challenges even the most daring foodie. Vada pavs, misal pavs, gol gappas, dabelis, kachoris, samosas, bread pakodas and papdis test the most conscientious dieter.
Today, everybody is looking for a share of the eating-out pie. Even the multinational food chains that boast uniform tastes across the globe, tinker with their menus to offer dishes with a desi twist. Bangalore, that had streets dealing in specific trades like pottery and jewellery, soon had entire lanes dedicated to food freaks like Market Road in Visweswarapuram, Ibrahim Sahib Street in Shivajinagar and Wilson Garden Main Road.
Who dares diet in Bangalore today?