During the Christmas vacations, my family and I set out from Bangalore, the city of iPhones, set dosas and the “ swalpa adjust maadis ” to the evergreen and serene lands of North Karnataka.
We set off early in the morning, sleepy, but in high spirits. The trip would be a rejuvenating change compared to our daily and monotonous routine, where students went to school, office-goers went to office and the watchman was caught sleeping on a regular basis. A change once in a while would have been appreciated.
We stopped at Tumkur, where we had a delicious breakfast of idli , vada and “bise bise” coffee. The chutney in Tumkur was a tinge spicier than the one found in Bangalore, and the people were also very hospitable! It was a relief from the “ jaaga bidi ” in the fast food restaurants in the Garden City. Chitradurga offered us refreshments after which we arrived at the most awaited part of our journey — Davangere.
We had heard praises for the Davangere “Bene Dosa” and we were very eager to try it. As major foodies, we were excited to try the much hyped dosa of Davangere.
The waiter seated us at a table and asked us what we would like to have. I immediately rattled off in broken Kannada that the waiter could take our order for four Bene Dosas . He scribbled the order in his pad and marched towards the kitchen. We waited in anticipation. Twenty minutes later, the waiter emerged from the kitchen with four Bene dosas, the aroma of which wafted across the hall and made our mouths water.
As the waiter placed them on the table, I could see the butter melting and slowly sliding down the dosas , effortlessly. It was like poetry in motion. All the praises for the dosas had not been in vain. We attacked the dosas with vigour and at the end of 10 minutes, we had gained immense satisfaction and a lot of calories. To complete the meal, we wanted to order buttermilk.
Davangere was a pure Kannada-speaking place, with little room for English invasion. I had managed to convey the message of the dosas to the waiter with my limited knowledge of Kannada, but with the order for buttermilk I was truly stumped. Thus, we started brainstorming on what the Kannada translation for buttermilk was. A few minutes later, my mother hit the jackpot. She told the waiter, “ Naalu majjige ”. The waiter went into the kitchen and shouted, “ Four buttermilk ”!
Language truly crosses boundaries, be it a country or the humble Bene dosa .
