The bike came to a screeching
halt in front of the famous snack joint, Vidyarthi Bhavan, on a lazy Sunday morning.
Ananth and I, had pre plans of visiting this joint for quite a long time, and had
finally made it. Finding a place to park in the busy streets of Gandhi bazaar
is quite a challenge, irrespective of the time and the day. But somehow managed
to squeeze in though.
The place welcomed us with scores
of people waiting endlessly to make an entry. A man in mid-forties, donned a spectacle
and half sleeved shirt with a pen and book in hand, made notes of the names and
gave the respective guest a number and were asked to wait. The usual babbling
started between Ananth and me. Checking people and analyzing which field of
life they came from, their zest for exploring and experimenting food, last but
not the least, their patience levels. At a popular joint like VB, it’s pretty
common to wait, endlessly. The man went on shouting names and the numbers and
let people in accordingly. After an hour’s wait, came the shrill voice, ‘Ananth,
yeradu (two) seats’. It was nothing short
of a victory for us after waiting for a long time as hunger panged.
It wasn’t the end though. Getting
the waiter’s attention is a task in itself. Someone turned up and asked for the
order, ‘yeradu masale dose’, came the
reply. I let my eyes do a little work and scanned the place thoroughly. Walls
which are decade old stood still and displayed ancient paintings and some old
snapshots of the well-known poets from Karnataka and some eminent personalities
from both, politics and film fraternity. The roofing wore a dull look from
which hung the ceiling fans, perfect ancient-kannadiga-breakfast-joint,
I thought.
Plates were arranged on the waiter’s
arm like he was skilled and had mastered the art well. Almost stacking a dozen of
them while he made the full use of his long stretched arm. As I pondered upon,
my thoughts were cut short by the waiter as he landed the dosas on the table. Quite literally though, the dosas were bathed in lot of ghee and oil
and dipping out in every pinch of the piece. The chutney was at its authentic best.
Dosas automatically melted in the
mouth, such was the quality. Coffee was a must have to complete the signature
dish.
Nonetheless, it was more of
waiting and less of eating which made me ask myself, was it worth the two hours
of expedition for a plate of dosa? I
leave it to you to ponder upon.
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