Ritual at the Upahara
Sunday mornings have changed a lot over the years for me. There is always waking up late but what follows has varied. 5 years ago it was, watch a movie and cheat in a game of cards the previous night and end up at the Udupi Upahara with a bunch of friends, next morning.
That weekend the mehfil went late into the night. It was Rama Shama Bhama playing. We had moved on from the Westside Story. As the morning sun rose and I tried to get more real estate from the blanket, shouts of “Get up boys!”, started ringing. Breakfast was important and some didn’t fancy missing it.
By the time we were on and about, the clock was close to striking 11AM. The amble up to the Udupi Upahara was slow. PJs flowed, but it was the punchlines from the movie last night that brought out the best laughs. The laughs were enough for me to not notice the honking surrounding us. The Sunday traffic had picked up and the two-wheelers had started to creep up on the footpath.
The fancy word is brunch, but there’s nothing like that at an Upahara. The idli-vada crowd was still there(Probably always there IMO). I went up to the billing counter, placed a fifty rupees note for a plate of idli-vada and half cup of coffee. The person at the counter nonchalantly gave me 2 coupons and 2 Cadbury shots. I looked up at him in protest. But he had already moved on to the next one in line.
Up at the serving counter, you could hear the instructions bounce from person to person, the sizzle of the dosa counter and, the rattle of tumbling plates and tumblers. Out came a hand asking for the coupons. I handed my idli-vada coupon. The guy at the counter, asked me “Dip aah”? And before I could give him my answer, there it was, idli and vada dipped in sambar and chutney. If you don’t know how that feels, picture taking a dip in the holy Ganga at the Varanasi ghat. It is holy and all, but then there is a dead buffalo floating somewhere close to you.
As I slowly trudged back to the dining table, I noticed my friend had haggled his way to find some getti chutney to go with his idli-vada. For all the punchlines, he had had the last laugh after all. By the time we had finished discussing possible “startup” ideas over coffee, it was noon and the lunch crowd was well on its way.
Vigour on a Sunday feels no different from the “vigour” of vada sometimes; the freshness only lasts till noon. With the Monday manic kicking in, we broke up with a plan to meet again next Saturday. That was the end to another weekend culminating with the ritual at the Upahara.
I don’t know when and how it happened, but I have come to put a certain success criteria to my weekends. How productive was as I? Productivity here is vaguely defined, like this week it would probably include writing this article.
I sometimes ponder, have I moved on to better things in the name of productivity? Or if I am feeling self critical, why did I not have a success criteria back in the days of Upahara? I might never be able to answer these questions with conviction but part of the answer might be hidden in those weekends.
Westside Story gave way to Rama Shama Bhama. Is one better than other? Probably not. You just have moved on to newer things with their own punchlines and their own success criteria!
