Just curious -- what's the source of this compilation?
On Fri, Jan 25, 2013 at 3:09 PM, Naresh <[email protected]> wrote: > Secret City > > > > Autorickshaw Artists – In one of Shivajinagar’s maze-like streets - known to > Bangaloreans as that part of town you go to for cheap meat, exotic pets, > Suleimani chai, or your stolen car – works Afsar Pasha. Though there are at > least a dozen practitioners of Pasha’s art in Shivajinagar, the man in > question is to autorickshaw drivers in Bangalore what Rembrandt was to > portraiture in 17th Century Holland. For about Rs 800, Pasha (or if you’re > willing to arrive at a compromise, one of his lesser contemporaries) will > paint the likeness of the latest Khan or a particularly flattering profile > view of Rajkumar on the back of an autorickshaw. In the hierarchy of > autorickshaw art, Pasha says Rajkumar ranks as the most popular, followed by > Shankar Nag, Sanjay Dutt, Shah Rukh Khan and what he calls > Shore-Temple-Sunset. He says he decided to follow his father, Anwar’s example > and picked up a paint brush 35 years ago, when he’d just completed his > schooling. He says his muse, and the in-demand star when he began as an > autorickshaw artist, was ‘Rambo.’ “I charge Rs 400 for only face, Rs 850 – > 1000 for full pose and Rs 100 – 150 for scenery,” he says. > > And as is the case with these things, Mayur Polepalli, a Bangalorean in > Taipei maintains a blog, arart.blogspot.com that documents autorickshaw art. > “What’s on the autorickshaw is what’s on the driver’s mind. I was fascinated > with the thought and when that turned to obsession, I figured I had to > document it,” Polepalli said, by email. > > AS Arts Planet, 1, C Street, SH Road, Shivajinagar. 93434-91919. > > Butterfly Park – Two years ago, the country’s first butterfly park opened at > the Bannerghatta Biological Park, with little frippery. Which is a pity, > because this well kept secret needs to be told, and the park needs a constant > flow of visitors. The Park is an hour’s drive from Bangalore and the > Bangalore Metropolitan Transport Corporation runs four luxury buses to the > park everyday (route 365 from Majestic at Rs 25 a ride). Tickets cost Rs 20 > for adults and Rs 10 for children (under 10) and once you’ve paid up, you > enter a large, transparent dome that houses an entire eco-system. During > season (June to November), 20 species of butterflies make this dome their > home. The day we went, guided by the little plaques that dot the park, we > spotted the Common Mormon, the Great Indian Crow, the Flying tiger, the Blue > Tiger, the Striped Tiger, the Crimson Rose, the Common Castor, the Lion > Butterfly and the Common Leopard: the last, a tawny specimen with little > black spots settling on various patches of sunlight, as though to be > examined. We were advised to wear brightly coloured clothes to attract the > butterflies and to not touch them because the oils on our fingers could > destroy the scales on the wings. There is entertainment for the kids as well; > touch-screens allow them to re-arrange jigsaw pieces into a butterfly and > others that allow you to learn the workings of a butterfly, magnifying their > various parts. There is also an exhibition that allows you to see plants that > are butterflies/pupae/caterpillar-friendly. We were also told it wouldn’t be > too much of a problem if we shouted our disapproval of a particularly ugly > species. Butterflies don’t have ears. > Bannerghatta Biological Park, Bannerghatta Road. 2782-8540. Open on all days > except Tuesdays 9.30am – 4.30pm. www.bannerghattabiopark.org. > > Chinese noodle factory - Or Leong's Food Products, occupying a fairly small > space in a noodle thin lane in KG Halli, is where your egg noodle and crispy > wonton lunch was born. Unlike Willy Wonka's glitzy establishment, this place > doesn’t have tomes dedicated to its history, nor is it on any culinary map. > It is nearly impossible to find even if you have a city map with you and > clear directions. You either know Leong's or you don't; besides factory > visits are frowned upon. Far from the ritzy interiors of your favourite Thai, > Chinese, Japanese restaurant, workers from Bihar dump a tonne of flour into > the automatic kneader, break in 2000 eggs, add water and hit the go button. > All this before dawn breaks, the mountain of dough then gets into the press > and miles of noodles and sheets of wonton skins area ready for the steamer. A > quick steam later they are weighed, packed and driven off to the 400 Oriental > cuisine restaurants in the city. By noon, everyone at the factory heads home. > > Started in 1980 by Liang Chingta, Leong's is the only supplier of fresh > noodles in the city. Everyday, the 400 ‘Oriental’ establishments in the city > pick up 1.5 tonnes of fresh noodles and 200 kilos of wonton wrappers that > this factory makes. > > Leong's is the sole distributor for Ajinomoto from Japan and tomato paste > from China; their shelves also hold barilla pasta and olive oil from Italy. > But as Chingta’s brother Peter says, "This is the jam; it is noodles which > are my bread and butter. No chef in is right mind will use instant noodles". > He sells the noodles at Rs 34 per kilo. This is the price for the > restaurants; the finished dish will cost you ten times that. The wonton > wrappers sell at Rs 70 per kilo (there are 120 wrappers per kilo). > > 27/28, Mt Land, KG Halli, Venkatapuram Post Main Road. 2548-0156 > > > > Donne Biryani at Shivaji – Waiting to be served at this smoky, dingy two-room > restaurant (we use the term in its loosest sense) is as much a pleasure as it > is a penance. The biryani is cooked on coals, so if, on the day you are > there, the coals don’t light up, you’ll either have to go elsewhere to eat or > wait. And the wait could take more than two hours, as we found out one recent > Saturday. Even when all is normal, the atmosphere is hardly one you’d expect > at a place where food is worshipped: patrons frequently curse the cook in a > Babel of expletives. And the cook curses right back. You have to jostle for > space and if it’s a Sunday, wiggle through people to get your biryani in a > donne (a bowl made of dried banana fibre). When you do get that donne, and a > relatively quiet place to eat, the pleasure begins. Because Shivaji believes > in slow-cooked food, every morsel of rice retains the flavour of mutton. The > meat itself is divine, marinated and cooked so that it crumbles off the bone. > There are usually only three items on the menu at Shivaji: fried mutton, > fried chicken and the mutton biryani. There is also the chicken biryani, but > if you’re willing to go through all that trouble to eat chicken, you should > just Google ‘KFC Bangalore.’ > > 672, 45th Cross, Jayanagar 8th Block 98451-49217. 12.30 – 3pm. Monday holiday. > > > > Elgin Talkies – With the Shivajinagar Bus Station to your left, walk a few > hundred feet past a lassi bar, a couple of bakeries, yawning men hawking cane > chairs, and take a right into the narrow, winding street bearing the name > Shivaji Street. Next to a barber’s shop on your left, you’ll find the > 112-year-old Elgin Talkies, Bangalore’s oldest and still-functional theatre. > The cinema hall was opened by Veerabhadra Mudaliar in 1896 and was named > after the then Viceroy of India Lord Elgin. It began as a playhouse that > staged musicals and ballroom dancing - it was a place you brought your black > tie, tuxedo tails and ballroom gowns to - but after the Lumiere Brothers’ > premiere in the Watson Hotel, Bombay, it began showing silent movies in 1907 > (India’s first silent movie Raja Harishchandra being one) and in 1931 began > screening the talkies with shows of India’s first talkie Alam Ara. In 2006, > the Film Federation of India and the Karnataka Film Chamber of Commerce chose > it as the venue to celebrate 75 years of sound in cinema, and Elgin went back > up on the map. Today it shows second and third runs of movies starring Mithun > Chakravarthy, Govinda and Sunny Deol. It’s also the only way you’ll get to > sit in a heritage building and watch a movie for only Rs 16. That and the > charms of red bucket seats, swirling Ganesh beedi smoke, men dancing, singing > and whistling, and the pleasure of watching a movie being projected through a > 112-year-old carbon arc device. > > Shivaji Road, Shivaji Nagar. 2286-5024. Show Timings are 11.45am, 3.30pm, > 6.30pm and 9.30pm. > > > > Fine Art Prints for Peanuts - Ever fancied an Andy Warhol on your kitchen > wall, Van Gogh's 'Café Terrace at Night Time' up in your living room, a > Pollock serigraph for the library, an Escher drawing and a Lautrec 'Moulin > Rouge' poster to complete a collection that includes all the works of Dali, > Picasso and Monet? > > If you fancy turning your living room into the Louvre, but don’t have the > billions to wag your fingers at a Christie’s auctioneer, the man to go to in > Bangalore would be Prakash Aswani. Back in the ‘90s, in the earliest days of > the CD invasion that soon witnessed the annihilation of all stars on > cassette, Prakash Aswani became the provider of all albums yet unavailable to > manic college-going collectors. From recorded copies on tape of Metallica and > U2's Achtung Baby to Dr. Dre and Apache Indian, Aswani supplied them all out > of his shop on CMH Road in Indiranagar. > > Today, Aswani, a former RJ (he hosted a retro music show on Radio Indigo), > sells fine art prints sourced from repositories across the world, including > the Museum of Modern Art in New York out of his home in Dollars Colony. > > What makes his proposition closest to that of a steal, is the fact that you > can now own copies of some of the best works in the history of art for as > little as Rs 2,500 a pop. > > While he does deal in art, Aswani is not a fan of wordy discussions about the > stuff he sells. He is bluntly clear about how his business can irk creative > folk. 'An artist today will look to sell one of his works for anywhere > between Rs 4-5 lakhs. Where I'm looking to sell hundreds of copies – for > cheap – of originals that are now worth millions.' > > 435, 9th Cross, 5th Main, RMV 2nd Stage, Dollars Colony. 98452-14321. > www.fineart.in > > > > Gavi Gangadareshwara Cave Temple - Back in 2001, MS Umesh, an installation > artist working out of Bangalore, stumbled upon on an idea for a short film, > titled 'between myth and history' (sic), that would take him back to his > earliest days as a boy in Chamrajpet, accompanying his elders to the Gavi > Gangadareshwara Cave Temple. > > The temple, an ancient monolith carved inside a natural cave on a hillock > named Harirayanagudda, houses a legend about two 'secret' paths or tunnels – > one, leading out to the temple town of Shivaganga in Tumkur district, and > another heading all the way up to Kashi. > > What Umesh decided to do, in his attempt to harness his curiosity, and for > the sake of his art, 'discover an abstract space' and provide a 'physical > connect' to such history, was to film a 10-minute long walk, delving into the > darkest innards of this cave, barefoot, with a lit candle. > > The myth about underground paths apart, the temple is thronged every year on > Makar Sankranti (January 14th/15th) for an auspicious moment at dusk, when > the sun's rays are said to pass right between the horns of the stone Nandi > Bull placed outside the temple, and in turn illuminate the Shiva Linga inside. > > At the end of the film and his spooky walk through the cavernous temple, > Umesh emerges, barefoot, with a lit candle, walking out of the Dom Im Berg > tunnel in Graz, Austria, which today is a contemporary arts and culture > centre, with history dating back to World War 2, when near 50,000 people are > said to have survived Hitler's bombs in here. > > The 'magical' concept of hidden paths back home had, in essence, led him on > an extended journey across the planet, says Umesh: 'If they say Kashi, then > why not Austria?' > > The Gavi Gangadareshwara Temple is located behind the Ramakrishna Ashram, > Bull Temple Road. Open from 7.30am to noon and from 5pm to 8.30pm. > > > > Hamam – pit stops on the carnal super highway, you most certainly won’t find > the city’s 30 hamams on a tourist map. Originally constructed as baths and > rest houses (hamam in Persian means bath) for truckers cruising the highways, > they now cater to cruising of an altogether different sort. Bangalore’s > hamams are now the exclusive domain of the city’s eunuchs, who operate out of > these dingy, decrepit structures, offering condoms for free (they plough > through about 4,500 a month) and all other services for an appropriate price. > When they are not dancing at weddings and ceremonies or begging at traffic > lights, the city’s eunuchs operate as sex workers out of these hamams. > > A typical hamam has a massive terracotta stove at one corner, and this is > used to heat water for truck drivers or other clients that want a post-coital > bath. The rest of the building is divided into little rooms with a cot in > each. > > The eunuchs who live in the hamams are an extremely clannish and closed > community and will rarely entertain anyone that is not a paying client – > ‘tips are okay, time pass is not’ as one eunuch put it. > > A typical example of a hamam can be found on Bazaar Street in Ulsoor. > > > > Ig Nobel Laureates – When Chittaranjan Andrade and BS Srihari, from the > National Institute of Mental Health and Neurosciences (Nimhans), completed > their paper titled, 'A Preliminary Survey of Rhinotillexomania in an > Adolescent Sample', in 2001, they hardly expected to be conferred the Ig > Nobel – the award for improbable research handed out each year at Harvard > University’s Sanders Theatre. As I turned out, the Ig Nobel seemed justified, > because at least in the ambit of its definition, what Andrade and Srihari had > researched for a year was rather improbable – Rhinotillexomania is the > medical term for compulsive nose picking. > > The Ig Nobel dishonour, of a telephone pad attached to two cans mounted on a > cheap, wooden plaque, only certified the quirky quotient of these two > psychiatrists' oddball juvenile revelation, having spent a year's research > time to put a Q.E.D. on the theory that 'nose picking is a common activity > among adolescents.' > > The research itself sat down a sample of 200 adolescents from four urban > schools, to study how nose-picking frequency went up to over 20 times a day > for near 8 per cent of the group, before revealing insights into 'other > somatic habits' such as nail-biting, scratching in a specific spot, even > pulling out of hair. Bangalore's most ill-famed expose had effectively closed > the lid on how nose digging 'may merit closer nosologic scrutiny.' > > Needless to say, the two researchers refused to go down hushed up about their > discredited work, with strident statements about there being 'little world > literature on nose-picking behaviour in the general population.' Andrade's > infamous quote goes, 'Some people poke their noses into other people's > business; I poke my business into other people's noses.' > > > > Jal Bhavan – Imagined as a rainbow spanning the distance between two > undulating hillocks, Jal Bhavan is easily one of the city’s more lurid > architectural disasters. Designed by Anil Bhaskaran, a leading Bangalore > architect, Jal Bhavan is termed, rather unfairly, as ‘the city’s ugliest > building,’ and more aptly, as ‘that building that looks like someone dropped > a giant turbine on Bannerghatta Road.’ Jal Bhavan houses the offices of the > Karnataka Urban Water Supply and Drainage Board, the implementing body for > water supply and underground drainage schemes in 208 urban centres in the > state (barring Bangalore.) It also houses the offices of the magazine you > hold in your hands. > > 6, Bannerghatta Road, BTM Layout 1st Stage. 2653-9003 > > > > Kale Pehlwan ki Gardi – This wrestling school in Shivajinagar (on the same > street as Elgin Talkies. See E) is a 100 years old, but less than a 100 > people in the city know about it. Inside, past a narrow, dim corridor, you > enter a small, open courtyard with the wrestling pit and its stone cylinders, > neck weights and other kusti related paraphernalia. To its left is the > kitchen, where Mohammad Malik practices the other art this place is known for > – cooking. While the wrestlers train between 5 am and 8 am and 4 pm onwards, > gourmands, autorickshaw drivers, mechanics, students and bus conductors > jostle for space during lunch hours at Kale Pehlwan’s. You could choose to > sit facing the kitchen, the far wall or the wrestling pit, the last being the > best. Friday is the best day to visit for fragrant, after-namaaz biriyani, > but make sure you reach early – you will be relegated to straw mats spread > over the sand in the wrestling pit if you reach after 1 pm. At Rs 45, the > mutton biriyani is served in generous portions and always has at least two > large pieces of spoon-tender meat. The seer fish fry (Rs 50 for a belly > slice) is shallow fried to perfection and arrived hot and moist. The mutton > chops (two for Rs 40), which can make any decent tabak maaz descend into > existential angst, is marinated, and pan-grilled so each section of meat is > ringed with charred, crispy edges. Obtaining a table, grappling with the > other patrons and shouting for your meal at Kale Pehlwan’s can be as > gruelling as any wrestling match, so prepare yourself for some rough-housing. > Also, women are advised to cover up, and vegetarians to stay home. > > Ustad Kale Pehelwan ki Gardi, Shivaji Lane (near Elgin), Shivaji Nagar. > Mohammad Malik: 98866-77695 > > > > Lavelle Road - There is a certain gentleman who whirls in his grave every > time an autorickshaw driver utters his name, and this happens a few hundred > times on any given day. Mangled verbalisations of this name range from > ‘lovely’ to ‘le-velly’ to ‘la-vely,’ making this the most mispronounced road > name in Bangalore (followed by Cockburn Road ). And the rickshaw driver would > stare at you in disbelief if you did get the pronunciation right, which is > ‘la-vell’. > > The gentleman in question is Michael F Lavelle and the road that bears his > name is not just another street, it is Bangalore’s link to the Kolar Gold > Fields and the Anglo-Indian Community. According to the Rice Gazetteer, "In > that year 1873 Mr MF Lavelle, a resident in Bangalore, retired from the army, > with some knowledge of geology, applied to the Government for the exclusive > privilege of mining in the Kolar District, his thoughts being principally > directed to the possibility of finding coal. His request was granted on > certain terms. On these conditions, Mr Lavelle commenced operations by > sinking a shaft in 1875, near Oorgaum.” Being a shrewd businessman he > gathered other interested parties and formed the Kolar Concessionaires and > amassed a large enough amount of money to start mining, the initial quest was > for coal, but having heard rumours of Tipu’s soldiers coming upon gold in the > area, Lavelle began to look for the precious metal, and soon enough, stumbled > upon vast quantities. With the money he made from gold, Lavelle bought > himself enough land in the cantonment area to have a whole road named after > him. > > Lavelle Road begins at Richmond Circle and ends at Jewels De Paragon, it is > approximately 2300 metres. > > > > Monkey Tops – Before they hared it back to Blighty, the British gave > Bangalore an architectural innovation that is unique to this city – the > monkey top. These ornate wooden trappings over windows of old Bangalore > bungalows are A-shaped with a flagstaff spike on the peak and you’ll find the > few remaining ones in the cantonment part of town – Fraser Town, Cooke Town, > Cox Town, Richard’s Town and a few on Rest House Road. Wade through > British-era books and government records and you’ll learn that they were > constructed to prevent marauding monkeys from entering houses, while also > providing them with a perch to consume the fruits they tore off tree-tops. > While monkey tops were at first a functional aspect to building construction, > they soon began to serve a decorative purpose, with each home-owner > individualising the design to enhance his building façade. Eventually, the > monkey top entered official government marking, with the Bangalore Urban Arts > Commission deciding to incorporate it into its logo. > > > > Noon Wines - In a city caught in the cusp of nomenclature battles, it’s not > surprising that Noon Wines is also known as Scottish Pub is also known as > Scotties. But that depends on where you’re sitting at this narrow, intimate > pub on St Mark’s Road. If you’re indoors, listening to music and straining to > see the wine that smells so strongly of tomorrow’s hangover, you’re in Noon > Wines. If you’re outdoors, not listening to music, but listening to the very > potent wine as it makes its way down your gullet, you’re in Scotties. > > As you place your first order in Noon Wines, you will be informed by a > scared-looking waiter that they only serve three large wines per woman. This > waiter is not to be confused with Eshwar, who you must immediately ask for. > Eshwar will then flash you a smile and get you pretty much whatever you want > and however much you want of it. Even if you’re a woman. > > While you’re enjoying the friendly monster in your glass, ask Eshwar for a > plate of Chips Masala. It’s not on the menu, but that only means it’s out > winning an award somewhere. Rs 60 for a large glass of the finest and only > house wine you can buy at a pub in Bangalore, Rs 20 for the tangy Chips > Masala, and Eshwar’s winning smile and hospitality at no cost at all. > > 17, Vasavi Complex, St Mark’s Road. 2221-5002 > > > > Opera House – Arul Mani, arguably Bangalore’s finest quizzer and arcana buff, > says the Opera House at the corner of Brigade Road and Residency Road has > screened such classics as Avaluderavakul (Her Nights), Pavam Krooran (Poor, > Cruel Man), Kanana Sundari (A movie about an Amazonian sex goddess) and the > genre-definer: Uncle’s Fault (See X). But before it became known to Bangalore > as the theatre that screens soft porn (which in real terms meant three or > four full frontal scenes spliced into a regular regional language film), > Opera House (it’s officially referred to as New Opera House, but Bangaloreans > dispense with the ‘New’) screened run of the mill blockbusters in the 60s > (with regular listings in the Deccan Herald) and earlier still, in the ‘30s, > served as a ballroom and a theatre for musicals during the Raj. Though Opera > House is shut to the public now, with a little casual conversation with the > guards, you will, in all likelihood be let into the premises, which have > remained untouched since its closure in ________. Inside, the theatre is > large, dark and surprisingly cold. The teak balustrades and floorboards > remain, as does the feeling that you’ve just stepped into a long-abandoned > whaling ship. > > > > Pleasure, Gangamma’s – In this city’s lexicon of secrets, the letter P would > stand for three related things, and they would all be defined by one thing: > Gangamma’s Pleasure. A now defunct rock covers band, Gangamma’s Pleasure was > named for the band’s house cleaner, Gangamma, who chanced upon a stash of > marijuana in the jam room. Gangamma’s Pleasure, in a sense, is a distillation > of this city’s sub-culture, one that roots itself firmly in rock music and it > defines the three other Ps – Palace Grounds, pot parks and Pecos. > > Palace Grounds is where all the major gigs are held: Aerosmith, Deep Purple, > Iron Maiden, Joe Satriani, Mark Knopfler, Megadeth, Roger Waters, the Rolling > Stones, Scorpions, and Sting are among the few who have rocked into > Bangalore’s night sky from out of here. One section of these grounds – which > slots the largest spaces on the city’s outdoor cultural calendar, is constant > to a Disney-park Fun World setup. > > Pecos is a no-frills pub off Brigade Road, that has over the last quarter of > a century, gathered around it a near-cult following. The interiors have not > changed much over the years; wall art from the Grateful Dead heyday, posters > and strung up rock paraphernalia aside, the corner on the right as you walk > in has always been reserved for pamphlets announcing upcoming shows, news > about performances, and requests for musicians at large. That college > students for generations have sworn by the music at Pecos is no secret. The > late Sunday breakfast here remains a prime time affair. Pecos history > includes mentions of rock groups forging time-honoured band alliances, beer > drenched evenings of songs scripted, sung, and dissected at length; even > ‘major dude’ groupies pulling up to fisticuffs outside. Pecos patrons have > witnessed the formative years of a rock ‘n’ roll and pub culture, all the way > to wasted, defunct rock band members tagging inconsolably bawling baby boys > in the pub. > > Pot parks are Bangalore’s worst kept secret. The garden city tag goes a long > way with the tight-lipped presence of resident ‘ganja parks’ in prominent > areas of the town, blacklisted and hounded by ‘mufti’ patrol cops, as > pass-time bases of popular peddlers, and giving room to a widely apparent > frequency of smoking run-ins. The most popular of these are on Rest House > Road, Jayanagar 7th Block, Coles Road and off Ulsoor Lake. > > Pecos: 34, Off Brigade Road, Rest House Road. 2558-6047 > > Palace Grounds: Near Mount Carmel College, Vasanth Nagar. 2336-0818 > > Fun World, Palace Grounds. 2343-0496 > > > > Quizzing at the Daly Memorial Hall - Who would willingly impale themselves on > something that goes 'How did words derived from the Latin for 'same', > 'domination' and 'final' form a trio with half a health drink between the > years 1980 and 1990?' There’s a rare breed endemic to Bangalore that would – > the quizzers. They don't make a million, they don't top their graduating > class, they don't find trophy-wives; few get to drive their own cars and even > fewer get into the Civil Services, and unlike all other sportsmen, none of > them ever gets any. > > When they sit in Koshy's, they crouch around laptops and let out strangled > yells and hoots of laughter and drink much ginger tea and are completely > unaffected by the hottosity of women who descend from whatever cloud to > frequent that dive on a Sunday afternoon. Once a month, they may be found in > the few small halls that the city still has –Daly Memorial and Canara > Union—doing the same thing, in greater numbers and far more loudly. At pubs > such as Pecos and Noon Wine (See N), they are immediately identifiable by the > fact that all their conversations begin with phrases like 'Odyssey last > year', or 'Total Peter' and 'Sexy Funda'. And when they do get happy, they > may be heard singing ribald ditties where talent has been expended in finding > words that rhyme with the surname O'Brien. > > Open quizzes have been organized in Bangalore for over 25 years by the > Karnataka Quiz Association. Their quizzes are not about memory or how much > you know, they're about the art of guessing answers from impossibly > convoluted questions. If you want to know more, you could check their > website: http://kqaquizzes.org. > > And the answer to the question we began with is The Bourne Trilogy (Identity, > Supremacy and Ultimatum) begun in 1980 and concluded in 1990 by Robert Ludlum. > > Karnataka Quiz Association: Arul Mani. 98452-06690. [email protected] > > Canara Union: 42, 8th Main, 13th Cross, Malleswaram. 2334-2625 > > Daly Memorial Hall: Nrupathunga Road, opposite Yavanika. 2221-5034 > > > > > > Rent a costume - At Prabhat Kalavidaru, in over 70 years of being every stage > and costume manager's dream store, the one most frequent order continues to > be for productions of either the Mahabharata or the Ramayana. The complete > army sized set of crowns, golden maces (in three sizes), chest plates, waist > belts, armours, bow and arrows, faux jewellery, and entire dance troupe > wardrobes. The kit for Lord Krishna depictions is perhaps the next most > popular. > > As one of the city's quainter establishments, the history of Prabhat - an > institution run by the Dasa brothers - runs deep into the days of India's > freedom movement, and indeed, deeper into mythology. When the Dasa brothers > moved in, in the early 1930s, they found themselves producing the earliest > epic dance dramas in town. What possibly began as a sense of largesse – to > lend out stage ware to budding artists and aspiring groups, soon became the > makings of what is now a centre for every kind of theatre resource. Today, > the orders include light-sound stage prop works, a studio recording facility, > and even dancing classes. Third generation members of the family at their > offices will tell you how the business is still largely about getting the > characters in your play to look good on stage. > > What is underwhelming about this institution, and perhaps its worst kept > secret too, is the fact that some of their oldest clients are now permanent > fixtures on the Kannada theatre circuit, and some of them superstars of the > celebrity kind too, having once looked the part in an act, thanks to the Dasa > brothers' enterprise. > > 66, Jain Temple Street, VV Puram. 2669-7786 > > > > Subbamma Stores – Or Srinivasa Condiments, a hole-in-the-wall store > sequestered in a lane off Gandhi Bazaar Main Road in Basavanagudi, is perhaps > the only place in the country where Congress and Communist coexist without > constantly bickering. Congress, in this case is the name that Bangalore has > bestowed upon spicy, roasted split peanuts and Communist, the milder, > red-chilli coated peanuts endemic to Karnataka. According to KV Anant Rao, > the man who owns the store, the name Congress came to be associated with > roasted peanuts during a Congress rally in Karnataka in 1948, the same year > the shop opened for business. “Party workers really took to these peanuts. > They were in constant demand, and soon, people started asking us for ‘those > Congress peanuts.’ We had this other variant, the read-chilli coated > whole-peanuts, which came to be called Communist because of their colour,” he > says. > > Apart from the roasted peanuts, the store sells voluminous quantities of > fried snacks like murukku (deep-fried dough rings), puri (spiced puffy rice) > and obbat (stuffed sweet chapattis), which are made fresh daily at their > kitchen in Hosakerehalli near Banashankari, and pickles that are sourced from > a women's cooperative in Shimoga. Rao handles the money and his brother KV > Ramachandran doles packets of coconut sweets, murukku, appalams (papads), > pickles, spicy and chips to customers. The savouries cost around Rs 16 a > packet and obbat costs Rs 20. Inflation has pushed the price up by Rs 2, says > Rao. Packets are bought, packed carefully and despatched across the globe to > homesick Bangaloreans craving a crunchy fix. Rao says he has no plans of > exporting murukku or expanding. > > First time visitors to the store would do well to ask for directions as it is > easy to miss. You’d also be advised to go between 9 am and 2 pm or 4.45 pm > and 10 pm, as the store-owner shuts for siesta. > > 92, HB Samaja Road, Gandhi Bazaar, Basavanagudi. 2667-7493 > > > > > Tibetans – Despite two treaties, reconciliatory gestures, countless Free > Tibet bumper stickers and one very vocal Richard Gere, China and Tibet > continue to sit on either side of a fence both real and ideological, with no > resolution to Tibet's demand for complete autonomy in sight. It's perhaps > time the two took a look at the Bangalore Model to end all their troubles. > Eat at any one of the many Chinese restaurants in the city and your waiter, > cook, cashier or cleaner is most likely to be a Tenzing rather than a Tan > Lee. Each Tibetan passing off comfortably as a Chinese national. > > The first Tibetans began coming into the state in the '60s. They settled down > in colonies in Bylukuppe, Hunsur, Kollegal and Hubli - all a few hours drive > from Bangalore. Over 50,000 at the last count; the largest Tibetan refugee > community outside Dharamsala. Numbering at around a thousand at any given > point in the city, most of the Tibetans in Bangalore take on Chinese personas > and work as chefs, waiters, hair stylists and call centre employees catering > specifically to Chinese clients. As is mandatory with the community, there > are 50 families who are members of the Tibetan Sweaters sellers Association > and bring in their stock of knits every season. > > If you want to take a look at what else the community is up to in Bangalore, > you need to go to Tibet Plaza on Rest House Road – the mothership of cheap > designer knock-offs, AC/DC T-shirts, Che Guevara merchandise. And on the > second floor, steamy momos at Taste of Tibet. > > Taste of Tibet: 5, Indo-Dubai Plaza, Rest House Road. 4147-8237 > > > > Undertakers to the City - The Snaize Brothers have been a Bangalore > institution for 135 years; they were first located in the heart of town, at > 159 Brigade Road (now Royal Mota Arcade) and in 1986, moved to 51, Norris > Road. Though burying the dead in consecrated ground wasn’t their first > occupation – in 1873, Clarissa Snaize, a widow, decided to start a shoe > factory, which ran up losses and closed – the business they eventually got > into became vital to the city’s functioning. Clarissa Snaize realised her > measuring skills could be better applied to coffins and the quality of her > caskets went down very well with the Royal Garrison stationed in the city at > the time. She handed it down to her grandsons, who gave it the name Snaize > Brothers – Funeral Furnishers and Monumentalists, and a generation later, > Margaret Snaize and her son Anil Makhija took over the business. Clichéd as > it may seem, a meeting with Margaret Snaize is as tragicomic as an episode of > Six Feet Under. For one, she bears a remarkable resemblance to Ruth Fisher, a > lead character in the serial who, in episode after episode, displays > determination and optimism while surrounded by death and sorrow. Snaize, like > Fisher has a voice that has a little tremor to it, but is yet assertive. “We > are not interested in advertising, there seems to be a lack of dignity > attached to death nowadays, it is a special service not the cut-throat > business it has become,’ Snaize says. > > The range of services Snaize Brothers offers include teak veneer caskets, > hearse services, floral wreaths, engravings on tombstones or name plaques and > refrigerated glass caskets. > > 51, Near Nanjappa Circle, Norris Road, Richmond Town. 2221-2140 > > > > > > Vijay Thiruvadi's Green Walk – Not once in two years has it rained on the > Sunday mornings that Vijay Thiruvadi leads his group on the Green Walk in Lal > Bagh. And judging by the energy levels we witnessed one Sunday morning, not > even the rain will deter the 5,000 people who have signed up to be on the > walk. > > Every week, at 7 am, the group follows Thiruvadi as he traverses the green > expanse of Lal Bagh, stopping every now and then to introduce the Ficus' and > the frangipanis. > > You pick up lungs-full of oxygen and interesting stories about the plants, > animals and all things in between. Take the one about the oldest rock in the > park, which as Thiruvadi puts it, is half as old as the earth itself. The > rock is now designated a National Geological Monument and is dated as being > 3,000 million years old. > > You would do well to ignore the distracting couples cavorting in the park and > let Thiruvadi bring you up to speed on Lal Bagh's collection of trees and > plants - there are trees like the Araucarias from Chile, the candle tree, > elephant apple, the lush rain tree and a number of exotic palms. No two walks > are alike and Thiruvadi often alters routes to take the groups to the lake or > to see a rare bamboo flowering, accompanied by anecdotes like how bamboo > raised from one mother plant flowers at the same time, no matter where in the > world it is planted. > > You look at towering pines from Australia and the thick banyan, branches of > which reach out in a green embrace which, thrive in Lal Bagh. Then there are > cypresses from Mexico, China, Java and Europe, junipers from Africa, > wisterias from Swaziland, rosewoods from Bolivia, fig trees from Java. > Despite his deep and abiding understanding of all things arboreal, Thiruvadi > is at a loss for words when he has to explain why Ramesh who loves Meetha had > to express his ardour by carving her name on the highest branches of a banyan > tree. > > The three hour trek ends with a brunch at the Mavalli Tiffin Rooms, where > green walkers never have to wait for a place. > > The walk is conducted every Sunday and the group of the day assembles at the > base of the Lal Bagh rock (entry through the Double Road Gate). > > Vijay Thiruvadi 98450-68416. See www.bangalorewalks.com. 7am to 10am on > Sundays. > > > > World Cinema at the National Market – It all started with pornography. > Bhasker (name changed), one of the several sellers of pirated movie DVDs in > National Market, Gandhi Nagar, was doing very well for himself peddling what > he considered were fine examples of girl-on-girl action, when he realised > that many of his customers were seeking out a particular kind of girl-on-girl > action. Or ‘story porn’ as he began to call it. Bhasker began to shop around > for those specific movies – ones that had explicit sex with a plot to lend > gravitas – and realised they were made by someone called Almodovar. And > someone called Bertolucci. And someone else called Winterbottom. Bhasker > quickly realised there was a large and growing demand for world cinema and > began to amass titles from every corner of the world (he didn’t have to > travel further than the nearest broadband connection and Bit Torrent). Though > there are several other bootleggers in National Market, Bhasker (the changed > name shouldn’t be a hindrance; ask around for any Almodovar film, and you’ll > be directed to his shop) has one of the largest collections of movies for > sale in Bangalore - ranging from Miyazaki’s finest work to every agonizing > minute of Kieslowski’s Decalogue. Though Bhasker knew little about the movies > he was selling when he started off, he has enhanced his knowledge > significantly over the years. Now, if you walk up to him and ask for Vivre sa > vie, he’ll tell you most of Godard’s work is crap. > > 5th Main, Gandhi Nagar. Near Tribhuvan Theatre. > > > > Xtreme Urban Running - Every Sunday, at 7 am, a group of around 10 men > gathers at the Jayanagar Shopping Complex, which houses various government > offices and shops. Led by Ashwin Mohan, the group breaks into a sprint and in > a few seconds reaches the first stairwell inside the building. Mohan leaps > over balustrades, scales walls that are at least 10 feet high and with feline > grace, rolls, vaults, twirls, trundles and barrels across concrete surfaces, > wood-panelled walls, metal barricades and reinforced parapets. That early in > the morning, the only audience Mohan and the group of urban runners has is > sweepers, newspaper boys and milkmen, all of whom stare in bewilderment at > these leaping men. Mohan is Bangalore’s only practitioner and tutor of > parkour, the French sport of urban free running. “Jayanagar Complex is easily > our favourite place to practice and run, it offers several interesting > surfaces and spaces,” he says, adding, “But whenever we can, we try and do > parkour in private residences. It’s interesting, the expressions you see on > people’s faces and their reactions when you leap into their homes: they range > from amazement to abuse. But we’re gone before anyone really knows what’s > happening.” Mohan includes parkour as a prerequisite for many of the martial > arts courses he teaches and insists that his ever growing tribe of students > require close attention and discourse before they take on the city’s > high-rise buildings. “They have the balls to do it. But the practice of > parkour takes technique,” he says. > > 3 Curley Street, Richmond Town. 98453-96360. Email: [email protected] > > > > Yelahanka - The 1990 edition of the Bangalore District Gazetteer (chief > editor: Suryanath U Kamath) is a black, 1108-page epic that normally walls > itself into musty racks in stuffy corridors of governance and is the best > reckoner for anyone looking to leaf through the city's historic secrets. It > looks like a law omnibus and sells fewer than two copies a year. > > It's the book that will tell you that the founders of Bangalore, hailed as > the Kempe Gauda line of chiefs and popularly referred to as the Yelahanka > Nada Prabhus, were all descendants of Chief Jaya Gauda. That Bangalore was > their capital for 101 years, from 1537 to 1638 AD. And that Yelahanka, as one > of the oldest ‘headquarters’ in town, may derive its name from the 'yelava' > tree (in Kannada), which lists itself in botany as the 'Malabaricum, Bombax'. > > Instead of wading through the books’ tedious prose, a more exciting approach > to exploring Bangalore’s past, would be to negotiate the equally tedious > Bangalore-Bellary highway, reach the fort area, make your way through what > remains of the ramparts and stop at the front wall of the Anjaneya temple, > where four hero-stones built into the wall depict war scenes; Bengaluru, > circa 1410. > > The Bangalore District, Karnataka State Gazetteer is available for Rs.100 at > the Government Central Book Depot. > > The Bangalore District, Karnataka State Gazetteer is available for Rs.100 at > the Government Central Book Depot. > > Temples in the area: > > Chowdeshwari Devi Temple, Mathikere. 2337-9167 > > Raghavendra Guru Swamy Mandali, Mathikere. 2337-6269 > > Kalika Durga Parameshwari Temple, Vidyaranyapura. 2364-0048 > > Rangam Srimath Andavan Ashramam, Seshadripuram. 2331-6812 > > Iskcon Jagannath Mandir, Seshadripuram. 2226-2024 > > > > Zac O’Yeah – All things being equal, Zac O’Yeah will take his real name to > the grave. Ask him what his given name is and he’ll merely shrug, preferring > to talk about his life and this city instead. However, this Finnish-born, > part-time pop star, sometimes-Hindi-speaking, full-time writer of Swedish > thrillers will tell you that he is as much a part of Bangalore as the other > 25 aspects of the city described from A to Y. His name began to change and > adopt different forms when he was 15 and a guitarist with the German band > Twice a Man. He decided to retire when he was 25 and after designing sets and > lights for plays, answered a call for travel writers. He travelled through > India and published his first book: India: A Personal Pathfinder to Culture > (1995; translated title). Before the book came out, he got off a train in > Bangalore in 1992 and never left. “Something about the city – perhaps the mix > of east and west, or maybe the laidback lifestyle, or just the nice > combination of bookshops and beer pubs – set it apart from other cities in > the world,’ he says. He is often seen at Dewar’s on Cockburn Road (See D) - > so that he can ‘occasionally feel that Bangalore too has a past.’ When not at > Dewar’s, O’Yeah writes Swedish thrillers out of his RT Nagar home. His first > was Pajazzo (1997) followed by The Mutilated (1999), Guru (2004) and Tandoori > Moose (2006). Though you have to be more than conversant with Swedish to wrap > your head around the plots and sub-plots in his books, O’Yeah says if talks > with his publishers succeed, we may soon see translations in English on the > shelves. > > > V 'Naresh' NARASIMHAN > Architect - Principal > > Venkataramanan Associates > 10/2, O'Shaughnessy Road > Langford Gardens > Bangalore - 560 025,India > ph: +91 80 4030 3050 > fax:+91 80 4030 3030 > www.vagroup.com > > P Please consider the environment before printing this e-mail >
