Chutney stains

Memoirs of a morning at CTR, Malleswaram

This piece is in collaboration with Isha Jain (The Indian Story), a coming together of two affections - for a place, and for the moments it holds for so many people. Isha Jain’s “Stolen glances” takes you straight into the heart of Bangalore -into the chaos, warmth and quiet comfort of CTR. It’s tender, observant and gently funny, leaving you with a smile and the unmistakable feeling of having been there. If CTR has ever been part of your Bangalore, this story will feel like home.

Her story took me back to my own memories of CTR. Illustrating this piece and writing about my personal moments with the place felt like revisiting an old friend. This collaboration is our shared ode to CTR; a space that has witnessed countless such stories, often over filter coffee and mouthfuls of benne dosa and chutney. Enjoy the stories and be prepared for a dosa craving coming on :)

Chutney Stains

Our college bus (the classic yellow with black stripes) would arrive every morning with military precision at 7.15 am, it would stand for 5 minutes outside our college gate before it barreled away towards KC General Hospital, Malleswaram where we were posted for our yearlong internship.

The morning rush, as for almost every other student on the planet, often meant missing breakfast and rushing out the house door shouting quick byes to the parents. It was almost a habit to forget my doctor’s apron and stethoscope and come running back for it.

A few decades have passed, and a lifetime has passed in between. More like many lives in one.

Though it’s funny how a particular day can stay so fresh in your memory like it happened just yesterday.

That day I had somehow survived the rush hour and managed to reach both the bus and the hospital on time (sans breakfast) After an hour of being grilled by the OBGYN Professor during rounds (it being my recurring dream of her drowning me in Ulsoor Lake for not having been prepared enough) , the hunger pangs were loud and clear.

Just around the corner of our hospital was Bangalore’s legendary dosa eatery, CTR! Nestled in the lanes of Malleswaram, it stood there since the early 1920’s, a silent witness to the passage of time and to an ever-changing Bangalore. I’m not sure how often it would have sighed at all the changes it witnessed. My partners in combined studies (& crime), Neeti and Riya had been hand signaling me pointing towards the end of the street where CTR stands. We grabbed our backpacks and walked , rather dodged through a busy sidewalk , to pass a mogra (jasmine flower) seller, a make shift table arranged with rubber bands and black hair clips in various shapes and sizes , a newspaper vendor , a 3 x 3 feet banana stall with bananas stocked floor to ceiling in a Jenga like fashion , as we made our way crossing the street through a fleet of half yellow half green auto rickshaws .

The smells were always inviting , a medley of the robust spices from the sambar, the toasty aroma of crackled mustard seeds and curry leaves from the two types of chutneys- the light and dark green , the darker green being my favorite (a spicier version ,since I am a chilli person) , and the warm smell of filter coffee, bold and comforting , like a quiet morning unfolding .

We always had to wait to be seated, considering the immense popularity of this place and the regulars who had made this a daily pit stop between home and work. The 5–10-minute wait never seemed too long, it was time that passed by in chit chat and a few good laughs.

The benne masala dosa (‘benne’ meaning butter in Kannada) is the most popular dish on their menu, and so it was 3 plates of them ordered. They soon arrived with the server. Stacked one over the other in a perfect balancing act. Oh, the golden-brown crusts with butter running down the sides like little glistening white streams! There is no one word to describe the first bite when the flavors of palya, chutney and dosa burst all together in your mouth!

We ate as we talked with our mouths and hearts full. Neeti was the one who always laughed too easily, ate too fast and had a childlike optimism to all situations that adults usually took way too seriously. As she started an animated description of our pathology professors’ class, her theatrical act led to the coconut chutney splashing over her pristine white apron leaving a map like shape. We froze for a second and then laughed so hard. Like nothing else in this world existed.

Not the long night duties and sleepless nights ahead.

Not the fear of whether we would survive in the real world.

Not the fear of becoming lifesaving, responsible adults.

It was just us. Laughing over a silly stain.

I remember how careful she was, trying to dab it and asking the waiter for water and Lifebuoy soap, half giggling, half embarrassed. A white coat which we treated as a symbol of responsibility, was after all something so ordinary, we were just human in it.

Years later, that friend moved cities. Another would change careers. Life scattered us across cities and countries, and we would take on responsibilities we never imagined.

Some days when I wear my white coat, I remember that morning.

The dosa place.

The chutney stain.

The laughter that made the pressure bearable.

We thought we were learning medicine. But really, we were learning to hold on to each other – in between shifts, in these silly moments that carried us forward.

Memories don’t fade. They grow on us. Warm and comforting, like an old favorite sweater.

They stay with you. Like the coconut chutney stain, reminding you of who you were …. before you became who you are.

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Stolen glances

There were only thirteen customers in the iconic CTR of Bangalore when Keerthi decided to change her choice for the marriage, making the story unbelievable.

It was ironic since the place was always filled with its regular customers, but Raju, the only waiter present in that area, stated it happened just as he was serving the groom his first cup of coffee.

The owner and his colleagues made faces at missing the scene, and asked for more details before they had to open the eatery for evening shift. Raju was enjoying the attention till they all turned around in unison at the call of a young couple asking if they were open, and their mouths fell open when he whispered from behind, “It’s them.”

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“Let’s order one of everything.” Aman rubbed his hands together at the thought, the air inside the CTR was already heavy with butter, spices and a slight aroma of the filter coffee he had heard so much about from the youtubers and Instagram vloggers.

Pooja and Varun chuckled before she suggested a better alternative, “Let’s start with the classic Benne Masala Dose, poori and idli first,” They had already had coconut water and papadum while waiting for their turn. They had rested their tired selves on police cones that always lay in the front of the eatery. Nobody knew why they were there, or when they would be taken away, but they served as stools for the queue.

A week of showing their new co-worker around Bangalore and the couple knew he would not let them leave till he checked everything in his mental list. They had never had this much dose despite being locals. Still, they should have known going to one of the most popular joints on Sunday was not such a wise decision. Yet, here they were. Entering half an hour before it closed itself for afternoon break.

They placed their order with three cups of filter coffee, making Aman rub his hands together as his eyes sparkled.

The constant crying of the child on their side didn’t bother them as much as it did his parents. The Sharma family was on their first vacation after the birth of the light of their life who had quickly become the noise as well.

Mr. Sharma apologized with his eyes and a nod as he played the kid’s favourite song for the millionth time on loop, and placed his phone upside down. Baby Sharma’s tears dried as he had his first bite of the soft idli dipped in the light green chutney from Mrs. Sharma’s hands .

Read the whole story here on Isha’s Substack, The Indian Story. Heartfelt and beautifully crafted stories, recommendations and views that I’ve thoroughly enjoyed reading. My very first collaboration and it’s been with her, so glad to have done it!

I hope you enjoyed the stories, as much as we enjoyed writing and bringing them to you!

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