Nandi Hills

KP and I were munching McAloo Tikki in McDonald’s, when he decided that we go on a long drive. Nandi Hills was the obvious choice, for, it is 70 kilometers from here and hence a not-too-far distance to travel on a motorcycle. I made a call to JL and he agreed to join. AG hesitated a few seconds but he joined too. We decided to start early in the morning so that we can reach the hill top just around the sun rise time. 4.30 AM was the time we would wake up, leave the house by 4.45, pick our partners and hit the road by 5. Everything went well, except that all the events got delayed by 10 minutes. We sported heavy winter coats; the drivers – KP and I – had helmets, so AG and JL got woolen caps. Of course this preparation is necessary - a long drive at five on a mid-October morning is no small deal.

The NH-7

I picked JL while KP got AG and we all met at one petrol bunk – not to fill, though! I was told that we have to cross the BIA – Bangalore International Airport – to reach Nandi Hills. So we dashed off towards Anand Rao circle and then through the Race Course Road, ended up at Windsor Manor hotel. The BIA is one big straight road from here. I and KP were racing against each other, driving like crazy at a speed in the nineties. The road was near empty, and the only other vehicles could as well be heading to the BIA. At one point, my bike let out weird sounds and I was worried. Two heavyweights – me, seventy-eight kilos and JL seventy-five – were riding on my old pulsar at a high speed. I feared if the engine would heat up too much forcing me to stop. KP and AG are light-weight and they were riding smoothly on KP’s new Unicorn. Nandi Hills was 40 odd kms still and I could already see the sky dimly lit, which means that I would miss the sun rise view from atop the hills.

Almost near the BIA, one road took off from the NH-7 to the airport and the other led directly to Devanahalli. I strictly obeyed my friend’s route map that we had to cross the airport to reach Nandi hills and hence took off into the airport road while KP took the other one. Initially KP told that he didn’t know the route to Nandi Hills so I thought that he was going in the wrong direction, but that bloke had already been there and hence he was going correct. I traveled quite some distance before I realized I was off track. Again, loss of time! Finally, we went in the correct way and entered the small road, a deviation off the NH 7, which leads to the Nandi Hills.

The Nandi Hill

Our bikes were short of fuel, and there were no filling stations at all. We purchased petrol at rupees seventy a litre from a condiments shop. Well, it’s our necessity and he is the only supplier, so no fussing about the cost. The hill looked awesome from its foot; thick fog capped its top. The ride to the peak took us through picturesque locales of the surrounding hills and floral valleys. At the summit, the mist was so heavy that I felt as though I was in Ooty or Kodaikanal. We could hardly see people some thirty feet away. The time is half past seven and there was no trace of the sun; of course, he is there somewhere behind the foggy clouds, but not to be seen. Silly me, I wanted to watch the sun rise. Maybe a good thought, but not in this rainy cum wintry season. The breeze was rapid and the fog was whizzing past my ears. We took a long walk around the hill, snapping pictures. There are guest houses for accommodation, a very well maintained garden and a few eating joints. There’s a place called Tipu drop, and the legend is that the emperor Tipu Sultan used to punish his prisoners by pushing them off the hill from this spot. This side of the hill is barren rock and if one falls from here, I bet he’d die midway even before hitting the ground. What a ghoulish way to die!

This is how the sun looks

We all sat on a big rock on the edge of this place and relaxing, watching a wonderful view in front of us. JL and KP had just removed their jerkins and laid it on the ground. AG was taking pictures of us when out of nowhere a small monkey raced towards us. AG alerted us and KP immediately jumped and grabbed his coat, while the monkey grabbed JL’s coat. We tried to scare it away, but it scowled and sped off downhill, with the coat in its hand. We all could do nothing but watch, for, just one step ahead from the place where we stood, we would bring alive the legend that Tipu Sultan created. The monkey was searching for food and it went through the coat very often. Meanwhile, KP said that it would bring it back, so we’d hide somewhere and watch it. I thought KP has gone mad due to this chilling wind, but he was dead right. The monkey went across and came up some twenty yards from us, but still clutching the coat tight. It was dragging the coat all along and it got stuck to one sharp edge of a rock. After failed attempts to retrieve it, the monkey left hope and jumped on to a surrounding bush. At this point, I made a bold move and went towards the coat. I couldn’t see a thing on my right; just one wrong step and that’s the end. I evaluated my path and went bare-foot, with maximum weight on to the left. Just as I was about to get hold of the coat, the monkey gave one final frown, but I didn’t budge and very gingerly turned around and returned safe with the coat. KP was dancing after this and JL’s face lit like a thousand watt lamp. And why not, he has reclaimed his property from the most capricious animal. Monkeys have taken so many things from me – peanuts, bananas, coconuts – but never did I get anything back. This one is a lucky dude. JL, remember this day forever mate.

The monkey with the coat; me, going to get the coat.

After that (mis)adventure, we roamed around for an hour more and then had breakfast. We tried all varieties – idly vada, bread omelet, maggi noodles – but nothing was tasty. Well, we can’t ask for anything more. They at least have something to eat. It was eleven in the morning but the thick fog cloud didn’t go; visibility was still a problem. It was a long walk back to the parking lot, but even longer is the journey back home. I dreaded the thought of driving back seventy kilometers and that too when the traffic is heavy. As we descended the hill, the coolness began diminishing and finally when we reached the foot of the hill, the weather was warm. On the highway to Bangalore, the sun was scorching. Not a delightful ride this was to be. It took us an hour and half to get back home. After getting down, I could barely walk. My back was sore and my thighs numb. Took a hot water bath and dozed off. It was a very long drive indeed, but worth the pain and effort, for, we had been to a fantastic and beautiful place – The Nandi Hills.

Some pictures from the hills.

Brahmin Coffee Bar

Brahmin Coffee Bar, located in Chamrajpet in Bengalooru, in one of the most wonderful breakfast outlets serving the hungry customers since a long time. My curiosity to visit this place began late last year, when a TV channel aired a fifteen minute documentary – review, rather – on this very famous breakfast bar. The presenter went gaga over the delicacies and the coffee and remarked that the coffee served here is unparalleled.

I decide I have to try it out myself and after a few weeks, rode into the completely unfamiliar locality of Chamrajpet. I asked the directions from passers-by and reached the place where they told me the bar is. I found nothing there but a shop with its shutter down and a guy right in front it, sitting on his bike and smoking. I asked him the same question and he pointed his thumb to the closed shop behind him saying, “This is the one”! And then my friend, pillion riding with me, exclaimed, “Oh, its closed”! Good observation, I thought. The smoking guy quickly added that he too had come there to have breakfast and was startled that it was closed so early. The time was just half past nine.

I was screaming inside that I had traveled this far– seventeen kilometers to be precise – just to have a look of this very famous hotel. But one thing surprised me – the size of this hotel. The hotel looked very small; I reckon the dimensions would be 5 feet by 15 feet. Even a car garage would be bigger. Was this the hotel that they showcased in the TV channel? Was this the one that they spoke so great of? I had my doubts.

Time moved on and I never made a second attempt, until one day, one of my friends said that there’s a community in Orkut on the Brahmin Coffee bar. I laughed at it, for, these days there is an Orkut community for everything. Then I suddenly realized – it’s the Brahmin coffee bar. A review on a popular channel and a community in Orkut, come on, this cant be a joke. I made my decision and took off again. And yeah, this time it was open. I felt a huge relief; at least this time, I was not going to return empty mouthed.

The hotel is really small; three people of my size would just fit in the entrance standing next to each other. There’s a cash counter right at the entrance where you purchase the token. The menu comprises of Iddly, Vada and Khara bath (Upma, in other languages). Yep, that’s it! Coffee and tea are served, too, but they classify into beverages. My initial thought was to have a Masala dosa, but since that is out of syllabus here, I had to go for a Iddly Vada combo. From the counter, I hardly took 4 steps and arrived at the delivery counter. One guy takes the token and in a very rhythmic tone asks if it’s a parcel or if we’d want to have it here. After our confirmation, in the same tone he speaks some code words to the helper who attends to the orders. One more thing is that they serve only the coconut chutney here – no sambar at all. The chutney is poured over the iddlys and vada and handed over. If your orders are more, the plates are handed over on a tray to help you carry it out easily. There are two slabs on either walls wherein you can settle your plate and have, but very rarely you find space. Most people hangout in the open area in front of the entrance.

The breakfast is very delicious. The iddlys are extremely soft and tasty; I tell you, I have eaten in scores of hotels all over Bangalore but had never come across iddlys like these. A plate of those costs ten rupees and a vada adds eleven more. A touch costlier than other places but worth every rupee you spend. I didn’t go for Khara bath, as four iddlys and two vadas were already jostling for space in my tummy. Next I had coffee. The size of the coffee tumbler scared me; it’s as long as my palm. I ordered two-by-three for us, but even then the content was lots. And just as the presenter remarked in that show, the coffee is amazing. Gradually the crowd picked up and at one time, there was a serpentine queue heading from the delivery counter till the middle of the road, and it was hardly moving. Roughly I counted them as thirty odd. I was lucky enough not to get stuck in any queues. I admired their discipline; no crowding at the counters, no noise and no impatience. Stoically they awaited their turn.

This tiny hotel has awesome delicacies served hot. No wonder that people throng here to have breakfast. My applause goes to the owners who have been maintaining it so well. This is a must visit place; I suggest you take time one day to have a scrumptious breakfast in the very famous Brahmin Coffee Bar. Do let me know if you have liked the food, but do not bang me if you don’t. Individual tastes vary.

Anger Management

Anger or Wrath is one of the seven deadly sins listed by Pope Gregory way back in the 6th century. Simply, anger is an emotion wherein a person is irritated and has lost his cool, has distorted facial expressions and an awkward body language. Starting from a one year old child to a man on his death bed, all get angry. Only the intensity varies amongst these! Anger arises when someone says or does something unpleasant. So there are two persons involved, the one who provokes and the one who is provoked. Nine times out of ten, the provoker loses nothing but the provoked person who gets angry, loses a lot. Very recently Harbhajan showed his anger, by slapping Sreesanth just because he was wished “Hard luck”. Poor one, it has cost Bhajji the whole tournament - real hard luck for him.

I get angry very often; anything that someone does which displeases me, angers me. Why I get angry more often is because the gamut of that anything is very wide. I am a Scorpion – by zodiac – and all Scorpions seem to have high levels of anger, so they fume up for petty things; so claims one astrology-buff friend of mine. If I feel that someone is raising their voice against me, my anger neurons activate; I try to dominate their dominating voice, swear on them, and even worse, damage any article around me. It’s like a moral victory at that point; I have won over my aggressor, that’s it, this is my day. But this momentous madness costs many a thing – it makes you say things that you’d never have wanted to say and do those which you shouldn’t. When I cool down and replay the happenings, I feel ashamed. But then, knowingly why am I doing this? Why am I unable to hold my nerve for a few seconds, rather than burst out like a volcano? Somehow I feel that the brain refuses to function if the anger virus is active. Anger is a huge beast, but it sure can be tamed. At least, that’s what I have heard.

I joined few anger subduing courses, on friends’ and family’s request. And I tried too many. Some of them were meditation classes; the instructor, after a discourse on How to lead a good life, plays light soulful music and asks us to concentrate on one particular object – be it the symbolic Om, or some God’s idol, or anything unobjectionable. This course was for a week and the first 5 days of my class went searching for the object I should concentrate on. On the last day – maybe because it is the last day – I decided to stick to Om as my object. As should happen, I couldn’t concentrate! I started chanting “Om, Om, Om” to gain focus, but was intercepted by hushes and glares from fellows around. Important rule in meditation: Never open your mouth while doing meditation. . The class got over, nothing worked; end result, I got angry that my money got wasted.

Thankfully, my desire to squash my anger never came down. Just like my anger. So I took another style of anger management class. This one promised to teach how to have control over all the emotions, not alone anger. That sounded good; spend once, bring down all the bad qualities. Glee! Okay, no meditation, no concentration in this one – half the tough syllabus removed. The controller here is breath – yup, my own breath. Some rhythmic breathing was taught, and I was asked to continue this exercise. Wait, why would this rhythmic breathing cycle help me not get angry? If someone slaps me, should I sit in front of him and do this exercise? The tutor had an answer; whenever you have a surge in emotions breathe out loud, breathe out huge volumes of air, breath out from the bottom corner of the lung. This is the mantra that, supposedly, is a panacea for all bad emotions. I didn’t have to wait too long to test this, for, I had a duel with my room mate and my anger shot up; I decided to use the technique I started huffing and puffing deeply, standing right in front of him, just like an enraged bull on seeing red. That fella thought I was preparing myself to land blows on his face, so, to be safe, made the first move. Thenceforth, I never used that mantra. I was only incensed by the fact that I spent much money in learning a mantra, which didn’t help bringing down my anger but further landed me in trouble. All the while, I paid money to learn how to get angrier.

One buddy of mine suggested that I should count numbers when I get angry; I started that and never stopped counting. Close your eyes and think of some beautiful moments in your life, drink lots of water immediately, leave the place and sit in isolation – oh dear, nothing worked. I decided to do something on my own, so I came upon an idea to restrain myself from getting angry, by not getting angry. Confusing exercise. For one whole month, I never reacted to or at anyone who have hurt me. Deep within me, I was burning like a furnace, but still did well by smiling. That’s good work dude. I waited and waited, never flared up on any of my aggressors, waited and waited and waited, till the set timeline of one month got over. I applauded myself for the "big achievement". Now that the test is over, I was back to my bad ways. Blame it on the avenging instinct of a Scorpion, I went back to all the people who have infuriated me during this one month and did some harm or the other to them. Only then did the furnace cool off and I felt relieved.

I have been touchy ever since my childhood; at that time, I felt that this was a way to get things in my way. Yeah, I took hot and spicy slaps from my dad whenever I showed my anger, but no effect. When I entered my college, I was still the same. But because of my irascible temper, I kept losing good friends. People always put the bad done to them in permanent storage and the good in temp memory. Friends have come, gone, but I never changed. I am known more for my anger than my stupendous performances in my office. My boss has warned me many a time to be under control. One fine day, he gave a fine warning – to show me the door. Ever since then, I have tightened the grip on my emotions, not completely though, and began the search to conquer them. Unfortunately, I am still hunting.

Disclaimer: The meditation and breath exercises written above may have been successfully implemented by many people. I have only written my experiences and I really feel unfortunate that they didn’t work for me. This is not an attempt to denigrate those invaluable practices or to take a dig at the people preaching them, but just to share my experience with them and I hope you see the lighter side of it. Any resemblance to any person or character living or dead is purely coincidental and unintentional.

Expect, and regret

Why do people expect something from someone? And always end up losing? And get into a fit of rage? And grudge that someone? Is expectation such a bad ask? Day in and day out we expect so many things from so many people around us. The boss expects his employee to finish the assigned work, a parent expects the child to be the class topper, a wife expects her husband to be richer, and the people expect their government to be honest & helpful. Some happen, some don’t!

When we do anyone a favor, we are inadvertently bound to expect some good deed from that person sometime in the future. It’s almost like taken for granted. Helping someone is like insuring yourself from some unforeseen risk; if we are in distress, we’d approach the ones we have helped! Why? Because we have helped them earlier, so we expect them to help us too. Ah, expectation again. Very recently, all my old buddies met up in my house; one chap was spitting fire on another one, coz the latter hadn’t helped him in some activity. Another expectation that has failed! (Let me name them A & B respectively for clarity). I understand the anger of this guy A, for many a time, he has stood up for his friends for their needs; some were situations where he could have shrugged off saying “why should I?”, but still he has done owing to the camaraderie. So it was one such day when he needed help and obviously tapped this bloke B. To be fair, B didn’t say he wouldn’t help, but he hadn’t helped either. This inaction has prompted A to think “I have been used”. His feelings are quite predictable and justified too! This happens to almost everyone; most of the time we end up saying I have done this for him, done that for her, but they didn’t help me.

I faced this situation many times. I got nothing when I deserved; I held high regard for some of my close pals, but I have only been abused in return. Took others’ work personally and done it, sometimes traveling far distances, but still they found a dearth in my helpfulness. There are a whole bunch of parasites out there ready to get everything out from you. I feel like screaming, asking to give me the respect I deserve, but nay. What good does it do for me? It only wrenches my intestines, simmers my head and drives me mad and angry. All this has happened many times, which is why I am pretty clear about the effects. So, after all the agony is subdued, I have decided that it is better not to expect anything from anyone, rather than do so and repent. This self-solace gives you immense emotional calmness. Others may argue that I have resigned to my fate, but I am better off this way. Many say: Always do good, but never expect a favor in return. Well, if it’s because the altruistic do not expect any returns, or if it’s futile to expect from a self-absorbed world, I am not sure. One cannot be selfless in this society.

Speaking about selflessness, I remember Mother Teresa. What a fabulous lady she is; she has helped thousands and thousands of the poor and sick slum-dwellers of Kolkotta. And she never expected anything in return. I am too small or even unfit to discuss anything on this great human being, but just trying to learn something from her. Not even our parents expect we should do them a great favor, for they have brought us up. Hmm, different people, different reactions. And this is my reaction: if I can’t be selfless, I would at least stop expecting.

“Never idealize others. They will never live up to your expectations.” - Leo Buscaglia