Frolicking monkeys and Monkey Tops

The Bangalorean Monkey Top is very characteristic of the old Bangalorean charm. It is an iconic representation of the city’s architectural heritage, and any Bangalorean given a chance would like to have one adorning her own house.

The special thing about these monkey tops are that they are made ornate with vertical slats, having special designs at the end of each slat. Why are these called monkey tops? T.P.Issar in his book on Bangalore,  “The City Beautiful”, says that these ornate sun shades on windows, “became a favourite perch for the frolicking monkey.” This must have been true when land in this city once upon a time was sold in acres – huge bungalows built in the midst of manicured gardens and trees would have monkey tops such as these adorning the windows, and probably the frolicking monkey as well!  Nowadays, with land becoming scarce and high rise apartments becoming the norm, monkey tops are something of a luxury.

I suppose that the vertical slats were earlier made in wood, like this bungalow, but now, when made to order, they are made in metal. On enquiring at a metal work shop in Malleswaram, I found that to have one such made would cost between Rs 1000 to 1500.

This window is of the lone unoccupied bungalow on C V Raman Road – nestled between the IISc Post office and the J R D Tata Memorial Hall.  The security guard was kind enough to provide me a tin can to sit on and sketch. Another place in Bangalore to admire  such beautiful work is the Taj West End Hotel on Race Course Road.

Gopura of Bull Temple

The sketch of the Bull Temple or the Basavana Gudi was one of the first out-door sketches that I did. The sight of the leaves of peepul tree dancing in the breeze against the majestic backdrop of a temple gopuram has always had me transfixed. This is what I have tried to capture here .

Apart from learning how not to be affected by curious onlookers, it also gave me the confidence to sketch difficult subjects like temple gopurams. I have definitely been a little impatient with the details in this one.

The Bull Temple situated on Bugle Rock is one of the oldest temples of Bangalore, constructed by the founder of this city , Kempe Gowda.  The Kadlekaayi Parishe or the ground nut fair is held every year in December.

Losing another Heritage?

So this time around it was the massive old sturdy building that I had noticed in Shivajinagar – the board said,  “Government Composite Telugu School”. I found it funny that a Telugu school existed in the heart of Shivajinagar, the area being predominantly occupied by Muslims and Christians. I went there on Saturday morning hoping that the school would be open – and that the surroundings would be conducive enough for sitting and sketching. Anyone who has walked through the unpleasant streets of Shivajinagar would naturally understand my concern:) To my surprise, the school compound and the ground was quite clean, and there was a beautiful gulmohur tree under whose shade I was able to sit quite comfortably, shielded from the traffic and smells outside.

The school building is quite an imposing structure built  entirely of stone. The friendly head-mistress of the school claimed that the structure was over 100 years old – which meant that it was probably built in the then Cantonment area, during the time that the British troops were present. I am no architecture student, but the curves in the structure indicated an Islamic style, while the stone structure somehow reminded me of Christian structures such as Christian schools (like St.Josephs), the army canteen on Cubbon road and churches of Frazer Town. This had me thoroughly confused about the origin of the building. I was told that it might be possible to trace the previous owners by checking official records in Mayo Hall – which I hope to pursue someday. The carvings of two flowers and a bud ( is it the  Fleur-de-lis?) at the main entrance –  which is definitely not an Islamic motif -  has made me even more curious about the building’s history. 

Previous to the Telugu school which occupied the place in 2004, this building housed several other schools and Pre-University Government offices. It was also once upon a time a remand home for women! I do hope that someday I can make time to find out more about the story of this mysterious building.

The worry with lesser known or lesser celebrated structures is always that it is easy to be wiped off – rumor has it that the building would be razed down to make way for parking lots. For one, I hope that it is just a rumor, and even if true, I hope that our officials have some sense to maintain the structure and work around it. A dignified structure such as this one truly deserves to be prevented from being erased from the ground and from our memories.

Grinding Mill

Before the well-packaged flour or chilly powder became available in the aisles of the super market store, homes in Bangalore took wheat and rice to the local flour mill to have them ground. Some homes haven’t yet succumbed to the branded variety and still go to the “Girani angadi” to have freshly milled flour. I visited one such local flour mill close to home called “Sri Lakshmi Venkateshwara Flour Mill” this morning. Surprisingly, unlike the usual old nasty grannies running them, this shop had an army ex-serviceman running 3 such grinding machines. An exclusive one for the dark coloured ragi, one for the light coloured rice and wheat, and the other for the pungent dry red chillies and dhaniya (coriander seeds). Naturally, the machines used are separate so that the next customer does not have to take home rice flour smelling of dhaniya . The sounds and smell of the mill  brought back memories of childhood when I used to eagerly await the arrival of the hot flour from the grinder and to see it filling the steel container placed below. 

I learnt that that the grinding machines are made entirely of cast iron and are manufactured in Chennai. Each time a customer comes with a box of ragi or wheat grain, the belts are attached to the wheel of the respective grinding machine and the power  switched on. The grains are then poured into the huge funnel at the top of the machine, and almost immediately, the ground flour comes out through the flour-dusty canvas pipe attached to the mouth of the grinder. It was quite a satisfactory Sunday for the owner, for  he had nearly 8 customers in the one hour that I spent there.

Let the roots grow deeper.

  

On the night of 14th May, Bangalore lost one of its oldest trees. The Dodda Aalada Mara (the Big Banyan Tree) at the Vishveswaraya Park, or more fondly known as the “Monkey Park” (because of the monkeys that inhabited the park), split in two at it’s core and fell apart. This tree was over 400 years old, had spread it’s branches and roots over the entire park and was home to thousands of creatures. It was a tall, towering and massive presence for generations of families around Basaveshwarnagar; people who visited the park everyday for a morning pranayama or walk or just to sit under the chatter of the thousands of birds returning home to the tree at dusk. The tree collpased close to midnight and the news brought several mournful denizens over the following days to the park to bid adieu to their oldest friend.

Drawing this heart wrenching sight was not at all easy or something that I enjoyed doing. I would have preferred to draw the tree in it’s green glory – but I was late. The fact that this  tree was taken for granted and that there are hardly any pictures or visual records of this tree is quite saddening. I had to preserve this sight for anyone who cared to remember the tree, which is whyI convinced myself to make this before the BBMP cleared it’s remains from the park. Several families came to pay their respects to the tree, and some even took home a leaf or twig for memory. The other trees in the park mourned silently at the loss of their friend.

This incident serves as a reminder that Bangalore is full of hidden heritages and treasures that most of us are unaware of. It is only when we lose something so precious do we realise it’s value. My message here is to urge every Bangalorean to find his or her roots, find the treasures and history of this city, be proud of it, and share it with others. It is alright to get carried away by the gloss and shine of globalisation and the mall culture that has taken over our city, but we would be wiser to do so with our roots in place.

Here’s a link you may want to read:

http://oliotalk.wordpress.com/2009/05/15/ode-to-my-banyan-tree/

Dhobi Ghat

There’s an age old Dhobi Ghat right next to ISKCON, that’s been laundering the clothes of most of North and West Bangalore for several decades.The looks of the ghat from the temple stairs had made me very curious- colourful clothes hanging out to dry in neat lines and a flurry of washing activity around 4 thottis(tanks of water). So I decided to explore the place up closer this morning. Armed with my sketch book and pencils, I set out to capture the colourful albeit wet life around the public laundry. I made way through arrays of poles, ropes and clothes towards the washing area, to be greeted by curious stares from the dhobies(washermen and women). While I got on with my sketches, men and women, knee deep in water, scrubbed and washed laundry sent by local dry-cleaners, hotels and tent houses from around the area. While some soaked clothes in circular cement pits, others hung the clothes out in neat lines. As my book started filling up, my ears opened up to the sounds of running water, soaking, scrubbing, washing, slapping of clothes against stone slabs – all surprisingly harmonious against Rajkumar’s music blaring on a transistor! Sounds of laughter as the dhobies exchanged stories of their lives with fellow dhobies. Here was a piece of beautiful life, on a beautiful morning, nestled in the heart of a growing city, a city too busy to notice the sound of water dripping from the wringing of clothes.

The little known South Indian cousin

This time i want to talk about a dish called Paddu (pronounced as pa-do with an accent on the d) which I happened to eat thrice last week – once at Nalapak and twice at home. Most kannadigas may also know it by it’s more formal name – “gundpangala”. It is made from a variant of idly batter that is spooned into the hollows of a highly hot and well oiled paddu making tawa – which is what gives the paddus their nearly spherical shape. On being roasted on one side, each one is turned around and allowed to roast on the other side as well. Once the outside looks crisp, they are picked up with a skewer. A plateful of these hot delicious little spheres is served at Nalapak (near Navrang) usually with chutney and Aalugedde Saagu (potato curry), at Rs 15 a plate. At home, my mother adds chopped onions and coriander to the batter to make it tastier and crunchier. Nothing like hot paddus on a hungry evening! As hard as I tried, I couldn’t trace the origin of the paddu to a particular region in Karnataka. It would be great it someone could provide any input about the same.