The Divine Idlee !

From childhood to teenage to middle age, my likes and tastes have changed a lot over the years. I was a diehard Vishnuvardhan and Amitabh Bachchan fan during childhood. I believed nobody could ever be better than these two. Stepping into teenage, Kamal Haasan was my favorite. As for Cricket, Kapil Dev had replaced Gavaskar and Boris Becker became the greatest sportsperson in the world in 1985.

A few years later in the medical college, I came to realize Stephen Edberg and Andre Agassi were better all court players than Becker and Chiranjeevi danced better than Kamal. Nagarjuna was better looking than any hero in India by then. My favorite heroines too changed from Sridevi to Madhuri to Manisha Koirala to Aishwariya to Deepika.

Moving to present, my all-time favorite actor is Mohanlal, who I believe is the finest actor this country has seen to date. My favorite Cricketers changed from Azar to Dravid and Kumble to Rahane. I am today, a Roger Federer fan on the verge of changing loyalties to Rafa.

With such paradigm shifts in tastes, I might be considered a fickle and untrustworthy person with no sense of loyalty. But no, I can prove that I am a stable and sensible guy. In all these 45 years, at least one of my tastes and loves has never changed. That is my god and my love, The Idlee !

Being the atheist that I am, I have but one god to believe in. That is Idlee. The delicious, melting in mouth, omnipresent, omnipotent and wholesome Idlee. I am not a bigot or fundamentalist. But I don’t respect people who don’t respect Idlee. I consider them racist and misogynist and anti-human. I don’t even find it necessary to explain why I think so.

From the small home-run mess on the borders of Agumbe forest to Fun mall in Chennai, from my maternal uncle’s small hotel in Karkala to Annapoorna in Coimbatore, from the Damodar temple canteen in Jambawali in Goa to the Nizam’s Institute of Medical Sciences canteen in Hyderabad; wherever I have gone, it is Idlee that has nourished me, sustained me and enriched me.

Idlee is one of the more balanced foods in the world. This is not me talking, but a scientific fact. It has rice for carbohydrates, ured for proteins and very little fat. Add the Sambar and Chutney and we have the necessary fats and vegetables. What more do we want ? Weekday or weekend, summer or winter or monsoon, for me, any day is Idlee-day.

Idlee also is the most enriching food that makes intelligent people. Look at Mokshagundam Vishveshwarayya, Sir C. V. Raman, Sreenivas Ramanujam and a host of intellectual giants are Idlee eaters from childhood. Karnataka alone has the largest number of Jnaanapeeth award winners. What is the secret behind so much of Jnaan or wisdom ? Idlee, what else ?

We just have to look at Rahul Gandhi to understand what all Pizzas and burgers and no Idlee does to a man. The only time he talked sense was when he visited Chennai and had Idlee for breakfast.

Those who don’t believe me should try this and then talk. The famed filter coffee that the South Indians love, tastes a hundred times better when we sip it to wash down the melting hot Idlee-sambar down our esophagus.

I can never get tired of Idlees. Though I voraciously loved Idlee, I never took part in any Idlee eating competitions. These Idlee eating competitions are utter nonsense and a huge insult to Idlee. Idlee can’t be swallowed merely to win a silly trophy and a measly cash award. Idlee is savored, chewed down with utmost care and affection and is generally revered.

On a particularly lovely evening during my teenage, I had polished off about 28 to 30 Idlees at one go, while enjoying my favorite book of Late Kota Shivarama Karanth, one of the three quarter dozen Jnaanpeetha award winners from Karnataka. Well, Karanth and Idlee was a deadly combination. Add the torrential rains of South Karnataka, it was heaven and that is why Idlee is divine.

But Idlee is also an extremely delicate entity. One needs to indulge in preparing it if we have to indulge in savoring  it. Those with lesser culinary skills or no love for Idlee can butcher the entity called Idlee. Almost all of Kerala has no love for Idlee. I can understand lack of love, but hate ? Yes, many people hate Idlee and that is why Vivekananda rightly called Kerala a lunatic asylum. He knew that those that don’t love Idlee can’t be any good.

Idlee becomes thicker, harder and sour in Kerala and they call it Iddali. The additional D makes it hard to cut, bite or digest. I don’t know the reason but even the Udupi hotels in Kerala serve Iddali and not Idlee. The Malayalee’s love for extra-spicy food has made them turn the wonderful, non-spicy, mild and non-violent Idlee into Chilly Iddali, a monstrosity that can only be pitied but not emptied from the plate.

During 2 weeks long tour of North India in 1999, I really starved for Idlee. Finally found a South Indian hotel in Manali and ordered for my beloved breakfast. When the waiter served the Idlee, one of them fell down on the floor unfortunately. But fortunately it jumped up with the same speed and sat back in the plate. It looked and jumped around like a small white Rugby ball and perhaps tasted like one too. Never dared to bite a Rugby ball because I have not much ball-biting qualities a la Shahid Afridi.

Coming back to Kerala Iddalis, there are some immensely believable stories about why Tippu Sultan could not conquer Kerala below Malappuram. It is believed Tippu was moving southwards towards Trichur. The locals realized they could not fight against the vastly superior force of Tippu. But not wishing to surrender with ease, they devised a plan. Thousands of Idlees were prepared in the households and the palace and as the army of Tippu arrived, the people attacked them with the Kerala Iddalis. Like the proverbial Boomerang, the Iddalis managed to wreak havoc in Tippu’s troupes. The people were able to re-use the Iddlis because after hitting the targets, they returned to their owners.

Thus the Trichur people defeated the mighty army of Tippu with a few thousand Iddalis. This story has not been included in the history books by our secular historians who wanted to portray Tippu as a brave warrior. The fact is his army was defeated by the famous Iddali-astra of Trichur. Those who suffered serious head injuries from the Iddali-astra went back to Karnataka and their generations down the line became politicians there.

Idlee prepared without devotion and love can be blasphemy. I have respected the Kerala Iddali all these years because it was once used as a weapon to defeat an invader. But this afternoon, the blasphemy called Iddali died a death when I ordered for it in our canteen.

What landed before me in a plate were two shining white globules with a bowl of sambar and a smaller bowl of chutney. As is my habit, I asked for two spoons. My first poke in to the Iddali and the spoon came back, bent at the neck. I thought the spoon was at fault  and asked for a replacement. The second spoon, then a knife and then a hack-saw and finally a showel; all of them came unstuck and both the Iddalis remained unconquered like Rahul Dravid and VVS Laxman in the famous Chennai test in 2001. The canteen people had not foreseen such an eventuality. Their sincere efforts to help me ended up becoming all of us helpless.

Finally I asked them, “How on earth did you people manage to prepare such crash-proof Iddali ?”. They confessed the Iddali was prepared using the Vellai-Appam batter from the previous day. Wow, now I understood why those globules were shining ! Anyway, calling them Iddali too was a shame. I suggested they rename it Iddali-Appam. They agreed because they didn’t have much of a choice. A Malayalam movie in the past had coined a name Doddali because the Dosa looked like a huge Iddali. But this was altogether a new entity and thus I now have the distinction of naming a new dish, the Iddali-Appam.

But after being party to such a crushing insult to my god, I definitely need to go on a pilgrimage.  Hence I have decided to visit different parts of Karnataka and Tamilnadu to do penance and reclaim the sanctity of my religion, the Idleeism !

Dr. Punned-it

The Boy Farmer and the Malgoa Tree !

I am returning to my Blog after a hiatus of 3 weeks, thanks to some personal problems and some more at home. All things are taking their own time to settle down. But life still is beautiful to keep me away from "Live, Love and Laugh" any longer. 

Ajay Pai, a Facebook friend and a real life friend updated his status "Only a few people can feel the rain, others just get wet! :D". I replied with, "I feel, I live and I breathe rain ! I am Rain !"

My relationship with rain is an affair for a life time. A Blog-post can never aspire to do justice to this topic. Hence I wouldn't attempt it here. Some day I might try writing a novel if I get that far. Today, let me narrate a story. Well, two in fact.

The Boy-Farmer 

Once upon a time, there was a little boy in a small town. Let us name him Raju because he was very fond of Raj Kapoor. And let us name the town Karkala. Like all boys, he was full of mischief, fun and zeal for life. Raju did two years of his primary school staying at his maternal grandfather's house with his elder sister and cousins. That was because his Mom had difficulty managing a precocious little boy and his baby sister.

Raju subsequently moved to his father's house along with his elder sister when he was 7. Though these places were just 2 km apart, culturally they were totally different.

Raju father's house was a busy, bustling and big place with over 20 people and a lot of workers. This place was always brimming with activity. They had three shops right in front of the house and there never was dearth of action. Though the paternal grandfather was a disciplinarian, the general atmosphere still was jovial. There were movies, music and masti. The boys and girls grew up on Mukesh, Manna Dey, Mohammed Rafi, Lata, Raj Kapoor and Bachchan.

But the maternal home was different. Grandfather was an award winning farmer. Uncle had a small hotel that was famous for the onion uthappa. Grand-mom was an angelic lady who took care of everyone around till she fell ill. There were paddy fields, coconut and areca farms and a lot of vegetable was grown all over. It was brown and green all over. On the negative side, but for the fantastic Mama, there was little to cheer at home.

Living in such a place inculcated in Raju an early love for plants and gardening. He loved to look after the farms, water the crops and helping with odd jobs. But the grandpa being the tough guy he was, never allowed the boys to meddle with his flora. Into Class 3, Raju moved to his father's house and settled down with a new school and new set of friends.

They had an acre of land adjacent to their house with a lot of coconut trees, mango tress, cashew trees and a small flower garden. Once the boy saw this, he started attending the garden. Gradually it became a routine for the 8 year old. Every evening, he spent at least an hour with his 'friends'. The little boy started talking to his friends and they did listen to him.

Within next three years, Raju planted and 'brought up' butter beans, brinjal, several different types of Dahlias and many more vegetables in a small patch of land close to the well. He and his cousin made use of the farm and even had their own cozy little tree-house on the branches of a tall mango tree. Apart from this, Raju did a lot of gardening at school too.

And then tragedy struck on a fateful winter day. Coming back from school in the evening, he rushed to his garden to see the whole place decimated. Parbu, the man hired by his grandpa to clean the garden had completely weeded out his garden of flowers, vegetables and cotton plant.

Raju was shattered. He cursed and scolded the dirty old man and complained to elders about carnage. Parbu had left the weed in other parts of the farm to stand and demolished his garden of Eden brought up with 3 years of hard work in just one afternoon. But the elders were totally insensitive. The Grandpa even admonished him for being rude to the destroyer.

The little farmer was devastated. He couldn't swallow the tragedy of seeing his friends lying there mowed down to earth. Adding insult to injury, the old man got away Scott free. It was murder, in fact mass genocide. But he had no sympathizers. Those people who had gorged on his vegetables conveniently preferred to forget all that and looked away.

His Mom did commiserate with him. But she couldn't have done anything more. With a broken heart and a sulking mind, Raju decided never to plant another sapling in his life; he never did ! May be, a passionate farmer or a gardener or an agriculturist was assassinated that day along with his beloved plants.

A depressing tale is not all I have to tell. There is a beautiful sequel to this story. That is the story of... 

The Malgoa Tree !  

The boy grew up with his love for the greenery intact. Though he never owned a plant, he never allowed any harm being heaped on trees or plants. As we already know, they had many mango trees in their farm. One of them was a Malgoa tree. It was a unique tree because the mangoes it yielded were huge. They were as big as coconuts. Though the number of mangoes were 125 - 150 every year, it was a sensation for the size and the taste. Every year, relatives and friends used to wait for their share of the wonder-fruit.

Malgoa: What we had were much bigger than these !

Raju moved to a barren place in 1988 for his studies, aiming for a greener future. Perhaps as a coincidence, the Malgoa tree started to dwindle in yield. The numbers had fallen to single digit and by 1990, it was completely barren. It yielded not a single mango for next 6 years.

In 1997, the family decided to cut it off and clear the area because it was a huge tree and was now becoming nuisance. Raju was now working and living away from home. With time, he was now known as Raj. He had to voice his opinion now because it concerned his love for the tree. He pleaded with everyone at home to spare the tree for one more year, just one more !

The summer of 1998 was a windfall. The tree yielded over 180 huge and lovely mangoes. Everyone was surprised but not Raj. He knew that would happen. Knowing the nature of humans, the Malgoa tree decided to end it all the next summer and succumbed to ravages of time. But it did so after a last hurrah.

The little boy turned Doctor was convinced of one thing. Jagadishchandra Bose was right.

The plants do have life. Why, they even listen to, understand and love those who love them !



Dr. Punnedit

A Leave Letter

Once upon a time, there was a school in a small town with an immaculate gentleman for a Headmaster in primary school. As it happens, he got transferred to another place. The gentleman who came in his place wasn't so gentle after all.

He created a lot of ill will in the school; among the teaching fraternity and among the students. From day one, students developed a dislike for him. But they had to hide it because they couldn't have managed to live without interacting with this menacing character.

He used to bring caste and color of students to the fore. He once told the School Pupil Leader [SPL], "Why do you keep the company of those low caste boys ? You are so fair and from a reputed family. You should not mingle with these 'Shudras'". This further diminished his stature in the eyes of the students.

He brought in a lot of new rules and regulations. It was tough on the hitherto happy go lucky life of the kids. One of his new rules demanded pupils to submit a properly worded 'Leave Letter' in English and in advance. One had to give the reason for availing leave in advance. And he wanted all letters directed to him and not the Class-teacher.

A boy wanted to take 3 days leave to visit his grand-parents at Kundapur. Since there was a second Saturday, he could go on a 5 days holiday while taking only 3 days leave.

But he was scared because he had already suffered humiliation from the Headmaster for being from lower caste and for being dark skinned. The Headmaster had called him 'Dim-witted Negro'. So he went to the SPL for help. The SPL was more than willing to help him write the leave letter. Thus the leave letter happened.

Leave Letter

From:
Sadananda P.
S/O Devanna P.
Kabettu, Karkala -  574104

To:
The Headmaster
Government Higher Primary School
Kabettu, Karkala - 574104

Subject: Requisition for leave

Sir,

Hereby I would like to inform you that I will be suffering from fever from 14 December 1981 to 16 December 1981. Hence I will not be able to attend classes during this period. This is unavoidable because I will be sick during these 3 days.

I request you to kindly grant me leave of absence for these 3 days. I will make up for the absence after I get better and will cover all the subjects after I come back from Kundapur.

Thanking you,
Yours obediently


Sadananda P
11 December 1981

Post Script:

The hand of the SPL behind this letter was recognized instantaneously by the Headmaster. The leave was not granted but the boy was caned. The SPL was spared the rod and saved his position only because he was from a higher caste.

The SPL and other students continued to dislike the Headmaster but had to suffer him for just one more year. Sadananda grew up to be a quick bowler. Today, he owns and drives a taxi in Karkala. The Headmaster committed suicide in 1982. Nobody knew the reason, and fewer lamented him.

The School Pupil Leader went on to become a leg-spinner. He is a Doctor today in a far off place. He used his innate talent at mischief to become a Blogger. He continues to recollect, ruminate and rejoice at the cost of his readers, howsoever small the number might be.


Dr. Pundit

Three Tiny Robbers and the Goddess of Hiriyangadi Temple !

To make sure my father doesn't miss his beloved hometown Karkala, I gave him a subscription to 'Udayavani' the Kannada daily. Though it reaches him 2 or 3 days later, he is happy with it. At 76, even 3 days old news is news if you want to keep in touch with your roots.

One day he sounded unusually excited and and asked, "Do you remember the Devi temple at Hiriyangadi ?". I said, "Oh, of course yes. How can I forget it ?". Father said in a sad tone, "Well, the Idol from the temple has been stolen. And this time, even your Grandpa isn't alive to retrieve it". He heaved deep sigh and so did I !

Going back in time. 1997 May, Karkala. I was in town on a holiday to participate in the annual 'Rathotsava' in our main Venkataramana Temple in Karkala. My cousins, Upendra and Rajesh were already there with Upendra's brother in law Prakash.

After recovering from the overnight train journey, I met the threesome that evening. They were eagerly waiting for me. One to test us and the other two, to prove a point. So before any exchange could take place; Prakash asked me, "Hey Govind, tell me honestly what did you guys do at the Hiriyangadi temple when you were kids ?". I calmly replied, "Well, we brought the idol to our Grandfather's home". I could see both Rajesh and Upendra jump for joy and Prakash silenced with an exclamation, "Oh my God !".

It seems he did not believe one word of the story when Upendra and Rajesh narrated him as it happened when all 3 of us were 9 years old. That was during the summer vacation of 1980. Let me introduce Rajesh and Upendra. Rajesh is the eldest of the troika, my mother's eldest sister's son. Upendra is the second in order and my Mom's immediate elder sister's eldest son. We all know I am my Mom's son, no prizes for guessing here ! I happen to be youngest by 8 months.

Rajesh used to come to Karkala during summer vacations and we used to have a gala time. There were no summer camps, no summer courses, no summer classes and Abacus was not born. Life definitely was so much more fun. I sometimes feel sad for our kids. As much as they enjoy their life and the modern day comforts and Internet, they probably will never have a story like this to narrate.

This is the story of 3 boys all of 9 years. What they did that night was an innocent act of the boyhood. Yet it was a hugely scandalous act by any stretch imagination.

Three Tiny Robbers and the Goddess of Hiriyangadi Temple !

Rajesh, Upendra and Govind were at once famous and notorious for the mischief  they were capable of. Upendra was the local guide because of his familiarity with the place. Rajesh was an annual visitor from Kochi during vacations and Govind came during holidays too. There wasn't a corner they didn't visit in and around the place and there wasn't a person they didn't keep a vigil on.

That evening they were coming back after a long and aimless wander. Upendra whispered, "Hey look at Bemmu, he is now going to pick his toddy liquor from the Devi temple compound". The boys were naturally keen to see the 'bottle'. The little fellows were quite impressed by the drunken act of Amitabh Bachchan in Amar Akbar Anthony and were fond of recognizing themselves with that movie.

They slithered through the main gate and watched the old man dig his stuff from a corner of the temple. They were hiding behind a huge mound covered by shrubs at another corner of the compound. Thanks to the constant movements of the restless youngest tyro, the old man was alarmed and looked around to see what was going on.

Realizing the danger of being caught by a drunkard, the boys ran for life towards the inner gate of the temple. In no time, they entered the temple thanks to the careless priest who had neither fastened the latch nor locked the door.

There they were, in side the temple with the beautiful 'Panchaloha' idol of the Goddess smiling at them. Rajesh and Govind were always fond of Gods, Poojas, rituals and Utsavs [Processions]. They had their own Deities, Chariots, Palanquins and every toy necessary for conducting Utsavs and celebrations.

Oh God, but this was different. This was a 'Real Goddess' not a toy. In all her splendor in spite of not being cleaned and shined, she looked gorgeous. Rajesh and Govind instantaneously decided to carry her home. Rajesh gave the justification, "See these priests are useless. They are not feeding the Goddess properly. Let us take her home and give her milk, honey and everything. We will keep her for ourselves".

Govind seconded the motion instantly, "Yes, Grandpa's house is the best place for the Goddess. We will wash her, shine her and keep her at the center of the Pooja room. And we will also conduct Utsav for her !".

But Upendra was alarmed now. He pleaded with the other two not to carry the idol. But his plea was dismissed by a 2 : 1 voice vote and carry her home they did. Hiding her inside the shirt, Rajesh and Govind stealthily marched home as the Moon god was on his way up through the emerging darkness.

Now, Upendra ran for his life to reach home ahead of the other two and blurted out to Grandpa, "Rajesh and Govind are bringing the Goddess home". Since he was panting and what he told was so much out of the ordinary; Grandpa didn't realize what was happening. As was his wont, he gave a royal hiding to the little fellow. Just as Upendra was recovering his breath, the twosome entered the house with the deity.

Seeing the temple deity in the hands of two 9 year old mischief-mongers, Grandpa was flabbergasted. He immediately snatched it from Rajesh and ordered to Upendra, "Go and keep it back where it was, and NOW !". Even as Upendra ran towards the temple, the other two started to wail. They had the temerity and courage to argue with the ferocious Grandpa; a liberty which was never given to Upendra.

Around that time, the wonderful uncle came to the rescue. He came in and soothed the boys and protected them from the Grandpa's wrath. He also assured them of taking care of the poor Goddess. That was a night etched indelibly in the minds of the three and remains fresh thirty years since.

None of them slept that night. Two because they felt betrayed and the third because of all the bashing he received from Grandpa for no fault of his.

It was the same idol that was stolen by some unknown robbers recently. That is why my father remembered his late father-in-law who recovered the idol from the tiny robbers and got her reinstated at her rightful place.

The Enfant Terribles Trio: Rajesh, Upendra and Govind

Rajesh is a hugely successful businessman in Kochi today with a burgeoning enterprise that manufactures and exports essential oils and perfumes. Upendra is well entrenched in Moscow and deals in decorative lighting business. The third part of the triumvirate went onto become a Doctor and doesn't believe in Gods today !

He also blogs at Live, Love and Laugh !


Dr. Pun-dit