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Showing posts from July, 2009

Why Malleswaram Railway Station Still Feels Like Home

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Malleswaram Railway Station — a place that never felt like “just” a station. A few months ago, someone forwarded me a video of an elderly lady speaking about the charm of Malleswaram Railway Station. She mentioned how, whenever her children visit Bangalore from Canada, one ritual remains unchanged. Her son insists on visiting the station, picking up idly from Raghavendra Stores, and eating it right there on the platform. I smiled when I heard that, because for many of us who grew up in Malleswaram, the railway station was never just a transit point. It was a quiet witness to our growing up. Even now, if I close my eyes, I can hear the metallic rhythm of trains slowing into the platform, the echo of announcements bouncing off the tiled roof, the smoky sweetness of roasted maize drifting from the bridge, and the soft warmth of idlies wrapped in paper from Raghavendra Stores. The station was never silent — but it always felt peaceful. For nearly a decade, ...

A typical conversation - Part II

It didn't take a long time to realize that we were running out of topics. The normal conversation had turned into a speechless routine after the customary exchanges. Appa: So, how are things at your end? Me: Good! Appa: Are you taking care of yourself? Me: Yes, no issues! Appa: Eat properly, and if you need anything, let me know. Me: Yeah, OK! Appa: OK, I will give the phone to your mother. Me: OK! It was a case of the early years of my stay away from home. Beyond the usual exchanges, the conversation would gain pace once the telephone instrument was passed on to my mother. Amma: Ennada, what are you upto? Me: Nothing, just busy with exams and research. Amma: Enna research? You better take care of your health. What did you eat today? Me: I was busy the whole day, so just ended up eating curd rice and vadu maanga (mango pickle). Amma: OK, take care of your health. By the way, that girl in our neighborhood, xyz , is getting married. Me: What? Really? When did this happen? Amma: I...

Anandhi...

Srinivasan got ready for the afternoon siesta after his usual laborious lunch; laborious, not because there was something special for lunch, but just that, his meticulousness always ensured that everything was laid out in front of him in elaborate detail. A few extra micro particles of salt would leave him in great despair, as though Susila had committed a grave irrevocable sin. What have you done, Susi? He would shout from the hall, as she would disappear countless times into the kitchen at the time of serving. In spite of having been married for the last thirty six years, she would run back in panic, with a few wrinkles appearing on her forehead "What happened? Have I added more salt in the sambhar today?" Srinivasan would look up and say "Yes, the sambhar tastes like salt water today." Oh, I thought so. I was talking with Lakshmi, and somehow, a few, more than normal, slipped out of my hand. Please adjust today. Corrective measures will be taken by dinner....