Bangalore

Veda, a Bangalore-based artist, is currently pursuing a Distance Diploma in Art from Penn Foster School in Pennsylvania. Earlier, she studied Microbiology and worked as a research assistant in Denmark. On her Iyengar's kitchen blog she writes about the food insights she got from her grandmother. On her Kai Kriye blog you can see her paintings and other creations. She and her husband enjoy travelling, and their aim is to see as many places as possible. Her little daughter, Parnika, keeps her on her toes all the time!

My paati (grandmother), A.S. Padma (May 9, 1924 - April 3, 2007) was always acknowledged for her remarkable cooking and stringent disciplinary guidelines. Her Guests, relatives, friends and even her neighbours never went home hungry or even empty handed. Such was her generosity.

T.S. Nagarajan (b.1932) is a noted photojournalist whose works have been exhibited and published widely in India and abroad. After a stint with the Government of India as Director of the Photo Division in the Ministry of Information, for well over a decade Nagarajan devoted his life to photographing interiors of century-old homes in India, a self-funded project. This foray into what constitutes the Indianness of homes is, perhaps, his major work as a photojournalist.

Editor's note: This story is reproduced, with permission, from Mr. Nagarajan's not-for-sale book of his memories, A Pearl of Water on a Lotus Leaf &amp\; Other Memories, 2010.

When I think of my father now, in my twilight years, the picture that forms in my mind is one of a thin tall man with no great looks, clumsily dressed, who led a simple life and remained till the end just as God created him.

His cotton suit was never pressed\; shoes never polished\; tie invariably shrivelled, the knot he tied was not bigger than a red cherry. Added to this, he wore a felt hat when he went out to work looking somewhat like a taller version of the great Charlie Chaplin.

E.R. Ramachandran was  born in 1942 in Belgaum. He has settled in Mysore after working in Government and Philips Organizations. He has contributed to the Hindustan Times, Cricketnext.com, and is a regular contributor to Churumuri and humour magazine Aparanji in Kannada.

Editor's note: This is a modified version of an article that was posted here http://churumuri.wordpress.com/2008/12/07/once-upon-a-time-in-bangalore-on-route-no-11/

I remember that in the 1950s and 1960s Bangalore was still a Pensioners' Paradise and very much a sleepy town. It was mostly divided into "City" and "Cantonment" areas, with Basavanagudi and Malleshwaram the best known among its residential areas. Probably R.K. Narayan's famed town, Malgudi, grew from an equal mixture of Malleshwaram and Basavanagudi.

E.R. Ramachandran was born in 1942 in Belgaum. He has settled in Mysore after working in Government and Philips Organizations. He has contributed to the Hindustan Times, Cricketnext.com, and is a regular contributor to Churumuri and humour magazine Aparanji in Kannada.

I had written earlier how, in the 1950s, one travelled in Bangalore by BTS Route No. # 11 bus from Gandhi Bazaar to the Tata Institute of Science, Malleshwaram 18^th Cross in a time slightly less than infinity.

That is only half the story.

From the same stop, started another bus, Route no. 16, which became an unofficial bridge between the City and Cantonment parts of Bangalore.

Unlike other buses, Route #16 had an air of authority and pomp for it took the inhabitants across the city to a place where the British stayed when they lorded over Bangalore. To a majority of citizens, Cantonment was Dandu in Kannada and ‘Kantrumentru' for villagers.

To get the bus started on a cold morning, the driver had to repeatedly crank the engine with a steel rod, which would propel the engine with ear-piercing sounds, making scores of sparrows fluttering around old buildings in the vicinity go momentarily crazy.

E.R. Ramachandran was born in 1942 in Belgaum. He has settled in Mysore after working in Government and Philips Organizations. He has contributed to the Hindustan Times, Cricketnext.com, and is a regular contributor to Churumuri and humour magazine Aparanji in Kannada.

Many years ago - in the 1950s - travel between Bangalore and Mysore used to be almost like travel to the Moon and back. The distance had no comparison but the efforts, the travel time, and the journey itself had the same excitement and anticipation.

When you decided to go to Mysore, the news itself would create a sensation around, becoming a sort of talk of the town. All sorts of people met you and enquire: "Is everything all right?" Most enquired whether your uncle's cow is likely to give birth to a calf or something - otherwise why this decision to go to Mysore, all of a sudden.

You had to tell the Jataka-horse driver Syed or Raju previous evening itself so that he feeds enough grass and water early in the morning for the horse to withstand the run up to railway station and back. The horse's face would be completely covered with a cloth so that no one could see what the horse is eating.

Late night, you packed your hold-all. First came a layer with rice of Coimbatore Sanna or Rathna chudi for your relatives where you have planned to stay. Of course you have posted a card saying you will be coming to Mysore for a couple of days and staying with him. Most letters reached after you were with them. Only telegrams reached just when you had reached your destination.