That’s M.S. Sampath Iyengar’s favourite spot -- it is his place in the sun. The sunlit verandah of his home in Doddaballapur, which is also his study, is where he reads his newspapers, does his crossword, watches passersby, and most importantly, a place where he welcomes everyone into the warmth of his home. “So you took a good five years to keep up your promise,” he says, walking up to the door holding on to his walking stick. His sharp and clear voice that is as transparent as his personality hides nothing – if you listen to it carefully you know that what you see is what you get with the 85-year-old Sampath Iyengar.
Hospitality begins the minute you enter Sampath Iyengar’s house, it is only later that the introductions happen. He will even tell you which chair you need to sit on, and why – “That’s the most comfortable place, and we can talk easily if you sit there,” he explains, placing a huge glass of wood-apple juice on the coffee table before me. “This is too much…,” I try to mutter incoherently, “It’s very healthy and tasty, please have it,” he insists. The walls of this inner drawing room are adorned with photographs of all the yesteryear legends of Carnatic music, and as you happily identify them, Sampath Iyengar is elated. “See… it takes a lover of music to appreciate this! It means nothing to a person who doesn’t know the value of these great masters,” he loudly declares, not to anyone particularly.
Spend a few minutes with Sampath Iyengar and you know he loves people. He revels in being a good host, and music is his life’s breath. This five-time Muncipal Councillor who has dabbled with various professions in his life, started writing a cookbook of traditional Iyengar recipes when he was 80. Called
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Sampath Iyengar’s grandfather Sheshachar hails from Melukote, but his father Seetharama Iyengar moved to Davangere to study law and later to Bangalore and finally settled in Doddaballapur in 1932, where he started his practice. Sampath Iyengar’s mother passed away early, in 1939, leaving behind nine children. “My father took on the responsibility of the entire household. But things got really difficult as he was a very busy lawyer. My older sisters got married, my older brother left home to pursue his studies, and eventually I went to school and managed the kitchen,” recalls Sampath Iyengar. He had no formal training in the kitchen, but under his father’s guidance and his own desire to experiment, Sampath Iyengar became a fairly good cook. “My youngest sister, who had gone away to live with my older one, came back after three years and things became different at home,” he recounts the happy times they both shared. The brother and sister made a huge variety of sweets and savouries, invite the entire neighbourhood and friends and throw a feast. During the festival of Gokulashtami, they prepared a month ahead and distributed huge bags of goodies to everyone who came by. “In fact, she is my puliyogare teacher. I became an expert cook under her training,” says Sampath Iyengar.
When she got married and left Sampath Iyengar became very lonely. “My friends were everything to me. It was so with my father too. Most of them were very poor. My father would ask me to prepare dishes with pure ghee and feed them. Padmanabha, Rama, Veera…. How they enjoyed it! I became the lord of the kitchen,” he remembers with great happiness. His father, a devout Brahmin, was a great scholar, a gamaki and a lover of music, but the doors of their home were open to one and all. “My father didn’t believe in caste system. He took everyone into his fold with such affection and that became the culture of this house. He went out of his way to help the poor. He would say, ‘hold their hand, encourage them…’ and that became the mission of my life as well.”
Sampath Iyengar completed his master’s degree and realised that there was no purpose in taking up a job. Social service was his calling. “Work for the betterment of people and bring a good name to me,” was his father’s advice to him. “I was always a people’s man, I wanted to work for them,” says the modest multi-faceted man, who set up a pharmaceutical store, who also tried his hands at dyeing fabric considering that Doddaballapura is home to the weaving community. He was a health officer, a farmer, did dairy farming and was also the stringer for Doddaballapur for two major newspapers of the State. Sampath Iyengar is a treasure house of information – he knows every single Devanga family in Doddaballapura which is easily about 1000, and knows the names of atleast two generations from each family. As a five-time Muncipal Councillor and having associated himself with the people of Doddaballapura closely for nearly four decades of his life, he is both a historian and sociologist of the region. “I have not spent a single penny on the Muncipal elections. I have carried the burden of honesty, and sincerity against all odds. People had access to me 24 hours. They would tap on my door in the middle of the night for help…,” Sampath Iyengar has hundreds of stories to tell, especially during the cholera attack. But in the last 10-12 years, Sampath Iyengar has been so disappointed, that he has withdrawn from public life – “There’s too much politicking, it pains me.” With rapid industrialization, Sampath Iyengar feels primary relationships in India have changed. “The whole society in India is becoming degenerate, social love is vanishing,” says this man, who throbs with community consciousness.
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It was around this time that Sampath Iyengar began thinking of a cookbook. Food, for him, is a social activity. It is a binding factor. “My father had infused our home culturally. People were constantly coming, they were being fed, their problems were heard to… and I felt this tradition had to be kept alive, and that could happen through a cook book.” From the times of his father, Sampath Iyengar ran a music sabha. The greatest of musicians have been invited to Doddaballapura and have enjoyed a feast in Sampath Iyengar’s house. He can regale you with stories about the maverick T.R. Mahalingam and several other musicians. “Madurai Somu would tell me over the phone, ‘Make sure you make badam kheer for me, I want two tall glasses!’… what glorious days!”
That afternoon, Sampath Iyengar and his wife had laid out a sumptuous feast. His friends Venkatesh, Nataraj, and Govindaraju were all there. He stood by my side taking care of me. “I have never eaten before my guests, so don’t force me,” he shut me up. I noticed that he walked slowly to his garden and plucked fresh betel leaves; he kept coming back to the kitchen every now and then to see if I was eating properly. A little later, Sampath Iyengar sits down for lunch in the drawing room, with all his friends around him. Later, more stories, more coffee, more betel leaves… it goes on.
As I tear myself away that evening, my bag is full. There are brinjals and lemons from the garden, fresh flowers, there are home-made savouries and sweets, and in a huge plantain leaf, Sampath Iyengar has himself packed puliyogare for all the people I didn’t take along with me. “You haven’t tasted the pickle in our house. You must come back again, and hope that is soon…,” he says. He, his wife, Susheela, his trusted band of young friends… they all stand at the gate, waving out to me.
Count your blessings -- they say.
BOOKS
Sampath Iyengar’s cook book of traditional Srivaishnava recipes is a must for all those who love good food. The book, was painstakingly translated into English, “Southern Flavours: Srivaishnava recipes that stood the taste of times,” over three long years. In his introduction, written with such concern and care, Sampath Iyengar tells women not to wear synthetic saris while cooking. “As a councillor, I cannot tell you how many tragedies I have seen…that is why I felt compelled to say it.” People have been so excited about the book, that every other day people call to ask him for some advice.
Suguna Kubera Mattitara Kathanagalu is autobiographical in nature, but by his own confession, lines blur between fiction and reality.
It stories do a close-up on life, people and other constituents, in a language that knows no ornamentation.
For copies of the book, call 9845133228, 9845639808, or 8762693373.
You can mail: mssampathiyengar@yahoo.com