Idle and Dosa Ready: Story of a Book Addict
A chilly morning at my regular tea shop. The place where they proudly display the sign
‘Idle and Dosa Ready’. That got me thinking, so they have a 'idle' person there, and what form of service could a idle person perform for someone who walks in all hungry and famished is what I would like to know. Maybe ‘idle’ could press the customers' legs or fan his sweat away while awaits his lunch, but then he won't be idle if he does that, will he?
Some one corrected it a week later. Now it reads "Idly and Dosa Ready". a dosa made lethargically. I love a place where they make your food with love and slowness. Love is better when it is slow and gradual.wot?
Anyway, I am standing there gurgling on my second cuppa of coffee, the gent behind the counter asks me if I understand tamil – considering that I spent 6 eventful years in the land of Ranjikant, and doubly considering that my ability to absorb other languages is equivalent to finding a bollywood superstar admitting that he wears a wig; I said Yes i think so..do i?
Then he asks me if i work in some field that requires me to carry around a book all the time…a moment of silence while let the question percolate into my system. Ears transmit the question to the brain, braving the obstacles in the way, obstacles known as ye stupid unblinking stare and ye slow processor, eventually the brain receives the tired mangled query and formulates the answer which bravely vends it way down to the launching platform that is my tongue and is thrown out into the brave new world, “no sir, why do u ask?” I said that.
“Illa….always I see you with some or the other book or magazine below your arm, are you in the press or something? I saw you on the road walking by, always with a big book in your hand...”
A pause, while my face contorts into a expression that was termed as a sheepish smile by some behavioral psychologist and what used to be called cute by a very dear lady not so long back,
“no sir, I just have this hobby, reading, you see..” what I remember about my stuttered reply that day is that it had the words addiction, interest and the phrase ‘always something to read’ in it.
You get the idea. Never thought that a day will come when even the humble shopkeepers of my locality will start asking me openly about my addiction, should I call it that?
So they do notice everything, and I thought indiranagar had too many colorful characters than yours truly. I know it does, I once met manish arora (the fashionista) and rahul dravid (if you don’t know him. get out of this country) in the space of six days in front of m.k.retail on cmh road.
Speaking of my book habit, I love books more than I love humans or dogs for that matter.
If I am unfortunate enough to go for a movie alone, you wont find me without a hefty volume in my arms, carried in the same way mallu college going girls carry their precious books i.e. tightly piddichu against their bosoms. Me wonders how many mallu guys would have given their teeth to be reincarnated as a book for one day. Thought of the day. I can speak about my brethren and sisteren the whole day and beyond, but more of that later.
I remember watching jodha akbar with shantaram, the novel that is. My sole companion in that four hour long saga of akbar and his doe eyed wife. Enjoyed the movie and in the interval enjoyed the book. I am not particularly fond of getting up from the cushy PVR seat, trample toes and brush my posterior on faces just so that I can get some popcorn or Pepsi. No Thanks, I am not contributing any more to your coffers, Mr. PVR.
300 bucks a ticket is enough brutality on my wallet as it is. Even the crocodile from whose hide the wallet was sculpted would be shedding tears at these prices.
I saw Dostana, the uber-gay flick with a copy of ‘100 years of Solitude’ by Gabriel Garcia Marquez.
Quantum of Solace saw me with Chitra Bannerjee’s ‘The Unknown Errors Of Our Lives’.
I feel incomplete without reading material, anywhere, any occasion. I have been observed to be catching a glimpse at the newspaper pages kept to wipe wet hands at dhabas, tea shops and juice centers. I have given myself a crick in the neck trying to read the title of the book being read by the gentleman sitting on the other side of the aisle in a crowded bus.
I have had people, total strangers asking me about my religious affiliations on chancing to see the title of the volume I was reading at that particular moment. Case in point: I was reading The City of Joy, the page was open to chapter titled ‘our lady in heaven’. The young man sitting beside me, after having fidgeted for close to a hour asked me if I was a catholic. Reason? Cos he thought I was reading a religious text. The next fifteen minutes revealed that we both were IT slaves to American multinationals (as half of Bangalore is) and we both loved reading. He his bible, which he had in his hand that time, and me, my paperbacks. Eventually, as he got down, he got me to promise that I will attend the next meeting of his christian ministry group at the building next to ICICI bank on magrath road, on the coming Saturday. That Saturday has yet to come.
Traveling. I have been seen pursuing my reading interests in the busiest and the most crowded of places. Even while waiting at a crowded, stinking bus stand, where fruit sellers seem to outnumber commuters (K.R.Market bus stand, next to the masjid) and sweating buckets in the hot sun, I find my own private place where I can find out what ever happened to Dirk Pitt when he found his shipwreck at the bottom of the north atlantic (Clive Cussler’s books ). This while I wait for the bus to take me home to Yelahanka. Another reason why I love long journeys. In fact when a trip to kerala or delhi is in the offing, the first question that springs up in my mind is not whether we will get the tickets or not, but what book to take along.
I have been seen embracing the vertical support in a bus like a long lost lover and hanging by two fingers on the horizontal bars in crowded buses with my other ‘free’ hand clutching bravely at a thick volume busy being perused by my eyes, oblivious to the seething mass of humanity around me. Moon size craters, bumps on the road, sudden expletive inducing brakes, conductor shouting more expletives, commuters squeezing their bodies in every available crevice between their fellow humanity, nothing deters yours truly in his quest for maximum utilization of available time by attempting to pursue his literary ambitions even in the most hostile environs. Now if only I had shown this zeal in my school and college days.
But it’s an addiction that causes no harmful side effects, apart from a constant itch to read everything around me and a primeval physical need to possess every book that seems to be calling out to me from the shelves. I go to bookstores, not to buy books, but to ‘browse’ which for me is the technical term when one picks up a volume and digests the whole book in one sitting i.e. finish the whole book from cover to cover in the store itself without ever buying it. I never buy books from these mega stores anyway, give me my Blossoms, Bookworm or the roadside book sellers on M.G. Road any day. Have read so many interesting books that way, most of which I would never have been able to afford anyway. Pick up a book that you had always wanted to read and plonk yourself on the generously endowed seats provided there and off you go. I don’t think the bookstore union of Bangalore is happy with me. In fact i think Crossword on Residency road has put up posters offering a reward for my arrest.
So how does one kill time in brigade road / mg road. Me says get a book, get into Kohinoor Hotel on brigade (next to the levis building), order some tea and some kerala parotta and chicken curry. I guess this is the only place in that square mile where one can get food for a price that doesn't make your insides squirm as you reach for your wallet. A warning for mallus, the tea there at kohinoor hotel can induce severe nostalgia in you for the chaya from theland of our parents.
The parottas are good too. Can't say the same about the biryani. All in all, a good place to just sit and talk and debate and read or design or think about a presentation or a new idea. Glad that there are still some places like Kohinoor and India Coffee House.
So thats it.
‘Idle and Dosa Ready’. That got me thinking, so they have a 'idle' person there, and what form of service could a idle person perform for someone who walks in all hungry and famished is what I would like to know. Maybe ‘idle’ could press the customers' legs or fan his sweat away while awaits his lunch, but then he won't be idle if he does that, will he?
Some one corrected it a week later. Now it reads "Idly and Dosa Ready". a dosa made lethargically. I love a place where they make your food with love and slowness. Love is better when it is slow and gradual.wot?
Anyway, I am standing there gurgling on my second cuppa of coffee, the gent behind the counter asks me if I understand tamil – considering that I spent 6 eventful years in the land of Ranjikant, and doubly considering that my ability to absorb other languages is equivalent to finding a bollywood superstar admitting that he wears a wig; I said Yes i think so..do i?
Then he asks me if i work in some field that requires me to carry around a book all the time…a moment of silence while let the question percolate into my system. Ears transmit the question to the brain, braving the obstacles in the way, obstacles known as ye stupid unblinking stare and ye slow processor, eventually the brain receives the tired mangled query and formulates the answer which bravely vends it way down to the launching platform that is my tongue and is thrown out into the brave new world, “no sir, why do u ask?” I said that.
“Illa….always I see you with some or the other book or magazine below your arm, are you in the press or something? I saw you on the road walking by, always with a big book in your hand...”
A pause, while my face contorts into a expression that was termed as a sheepish smile by some behavioral psychologist and what used to be called cute by a very dear lady not so long back,
“no sir, I just have this hobby, reading, you see..” what I remember about my stuttered reply that day is that it had the words addiction, interest and the phrase ‘always something to read’ in it.
You get the idea. Never thought that a day will come when even the humble shopkeepers of my locality will start asking me openly about my addiction, should I call it that?
So they do notice everything, and I thought indiranagar had too many colorful characters than yours truly. I know it does, I once met manish arora (the fashionista) and rahul dravid (if you don’t know him. get out of this country) in the space of six days in front of m.k.retail on cmh road.
Speaking of my book habit, I love books more than I love humans or dogs for that matter.
If I am unfortunate enough to go for a movie alone, you wont find me without a hefty volume in my arms, carried in the same way mallu college going girls carry their precious books i.e. tightly piddichu against their bosoms. Me wonders how many mallu guys would have given their teeth to be reincarnated as a book for one day. Thought of the day. I can speak about my brethren and sisteren the whole day and beyond, but more of that later.
I remember watching jodha akbar with shantaram, the novel that is. My sole companion in that four hour long saga of akbar and his doe eyed wife. Enjoyed the movie and in the interval enjoyed the book. I am not particularly fond of getting up from the cushy PVR seat, trample toes and brush my posterior on faces just so that I can get some popcorn or Pepsi. No Thanks, I am not contributing any more to your coffers, Mr. PVR.
300 bucks a ticket is enough brutality on my wallet as it is. Even the crocodile from whose hide the wallet was sculpted would be shedding tears at these prices.
I saw Dostana, the uber-gay flick with a copy of ‘100 years of Solitude’ by Gabriel Garcia Marquez.
Quantum of Solace saw me with Chitra Bannerjee’s ‘The Unknown Errors Of Our Lives’.
I feel incomplete without reading material, anywhere, any occasion. I have been observed to be catching a glimpse at the newspaper pages kept to wipe wet hands at dhabas, tea shops and juice centers. I have given myself a crick in the neck trying to read the title of the book being read by the gentleman sitting on the other side of the aisle in a crowded bus.
I have had people, total strangers asking me about my religious affiliations on chancing to see the title of the volume I was reading at that particular moment. Case in point: I was reading The City of Joy, the page was open to chapter titled ‘our lady in heaven’. The young man sitting beside me, after having fidgeted for close to a hour asked me if I was a catholic. Reason? Cos he thought I was reading a religious text. The next fifteen minutes revealed that we both were IT slaves to American multinationals (as half of Bangalore is) and we both loved reading. He his bible, which he had in his hand that time, and me, my paperbacks. Eventually, as he got down, he got me to promise that I will attend the next meeting of his christian ministry group at the building next to ICICI bank on magrath road, on the coming Saturday. That Saturday has yet to come.
Traveling. I have been seen pursuing my reading interests in the busiest and the most crowded of places. Even while waiting at a crowded, stinking bus stand, where fruit sellers seem to outnumber commuters (K.R.Market bus stand, next to the masjid) and sweating buckets in the hot sun, I find my own private place where I can find out what ever happened to Dirk Pitt when he found his shipwreck at the bottom of the north atlantic (Clive Cussler’s books ). This while I wait for the bus to take me home to Yelahanka. Another reason why I love long journeys. In fact when a trip to kerala or delhi is in the offing, the first question that springs up in my mind is not whether we will get the tickets or not, but what book to take along.
I have been seen embracing the vertical support in a bus like a long lost lover and hanging by two fingers on the horizontal bars in crowded buses with my other ‘free’ hand clutching bravely at a thick volume busy being perused by my eyes, oblivious to the seething mass of humanity around me. Moon size craters, bumps on the road, sudden expletive inducing brakes, conductor shouting more expletives, commuters squeezing their bodies in every available crevice between their fellow humanity, nothing deters yours truly in his quest for maximum utilization of available time by attempting to pursue his literary ambitions even in the most hostile environs. Now if only I had shown this zeal in my school and college days.
But it’s an addiction that causes no harmful side effects, apart from a constant itch to read everything around me and a primeval physical need to possess every book that seems to be calling out to me from the shelves. I go to bookstores, not to buy books, but to ‘browse’ which for me is the technical term when one picks up a volume and digests the whole book in one sitting i.e. finish the whole book from cover to cover in the store itself without ever buying it. I never buy books from these mega stores anyway, give me my Blossoms, Bookworm or the roadside book sellers on M.G. Road any day. Have read so many interesting books that way, most of which I would never have been able to afford anyway. Pick up a book that you had always wanted to read and plonk yourself on the generously endowed seats provided there and off you go. I don’t think the bookstore union of Bangalore is happy with me. In fact i think Crossword on Residency road has put up posters offering a reward for my arrest.
So how does one kill time in brigade road / mg road. Me says get a book, get into Kohinoor Hotel on brigade (next to the levis building), order some tea and some kerala parotta and chicken curry. I guess this is the only place in that square mile where one can get food for a price that doesn't make your insides squirm as you reach for your wallet. A warning for mallus, the tea there at kohinoor hotel can induce severe nostalgia in you for the chaya from theland of our parents.
The parottas are good too. Can't say the same about the biryani. All in all, a good place to just sit and talk and debate and read or design or think about a presentation or a new idea. Glad that there are still some places like Kohinoor and India Coffee House.
So thats it.
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