Off to Bangalore

On the day of Diwali, India's Festival of Lights I took the Rajadhani Express from Delhi, to travel to South of India to the city of Bangalore. The train left sharp at 8.40 p.m. It was a great journey on the Rajadhani with an excellent service provided by the Indian Railways.

The food was better than what some Airlines of today provide to their passengers. I did not feel the journey of thirty six hours, which covered nearly 2000 kilometres.

The train passed through different States; Haryana, Agra, Uttar Pradesh, Rajasthan-well known for the colours of India-and the deserts, Bhopal in Madhya Pradesh where thousands died in Union Carbide's deadly gas leak. (People may have forgotten but Bhopal has not forgotten).

Nagpur of Maharashtra better known as India's orange belt and Hyderabad the capital city of Andra Pradesh fast emerging as India's IT city with the support of Microsoft's Bill Gates.

After spending two wonderful nights on the move seeing lights across seven states, I reached Bangalore. The Garden City of India the capital of Karnataka, where the former Prime Minister H.D. Deva Gowda, by accident humble farmer, is trying to create trouble these days.

For many Sri Lankans Bangalore could be a home away from home; very clean, cosmopolitan and friendly.

Banglore is also known as the pub-city of India. The city has more than 200 Pubs.

I walked into my favourite Pub the Pub World, a world of a Pub it has a real cool atmosphere to sip beer and only beer. They also serve the best chicken Tikka in the world, very spicy and with plenty of onions.

Having spent three beerful days in Bangalore I left for Mysore, the charming town immortalized by R K Narayan in his Malgudi days.

Mysore is well-known for its silk, the Brindawan Garden, palaces and sandalwood. The well-known sandlwood thief Veerappan also lives in the jungles of Mysore. But the mighty nuclear powerful Indian forces have failed to capture Veerappan and his band of thieves until this day.

The University of Mysore is a garden university with the river Cauvery flowing by unaware about the southern states' battle for her waters.

The campus boasts of a picturesque cricket ground, big lawns and other facilities to build the students' body and mind. I looked for a 'lover's lane' and 'kisses bend' like at the University of Peradeniya but did not find any.

I stayed overnight at the Green Palace Hotel, the old Chittaranjan Palace. It is a green hotel which has been set up as a model of sustainable tourism.

From Mysore, I took the Shatabdee Express to Madras where the eternal flame of Indian politics, larger than life Jayalalitha Jayaram reign supreme and stayed at the World Univesrsity Centre and the Breeze Hotel. At the Breeze I was pleasantly surprised to see stringhoppers, Kiribath and hoppers with Katta Sambal, Kirihodi, Sambal and Seeni Sambal.

I saw, I tasted, I ate, thanks to initiative taken by former Kandy man, Old Sylvestrian Joseph Rodriguez, the general manager of this Indian Hotel.

This man robbed of all his belongings during the ruthless 1983 ethnic violence in Sri Lanka had not forgotten his country of birth. He requests all his guests to savour the taste of Lanka everyday during brakfast and dinner.

The effort made by Joseph must be commended when even most Sri Lankan hotels refuse to serve our own food.

Today Rodriguez holds an Indian passport but has requested his wife to retain her Sri Lankan identity. All for the love of his country. This God-fearing man who was chased away by his own, so-called patriotic countrymen fifteen years ago has forgotten and forgiven them. But will his memory die?

The large hotel notice board is filled with pictures of Sri Lanka and Joseph proudly displays a map of Sri Lanka in his office. But, what takes pride of place at Breeze is an autographed bat gifted by our Master Blaster Sanath Jayasuriya. Sonna boy had been a honoured guest of Breeze recently.

I saw Mahatma Gandhi at Kuttithumburam junction on Pulianthrupe High road.

In Madras during one of my street walks, poor Mahatma somebody had removed his spectacles and broken his ear.

He told me that he cannot rest in peace even after 50 years of independence and that he found it difficult to see without his spectacles (Poor Gandhiji he was assasinated and now his statue damaged in Madras.)

Now the police are guarding the statue round the clock after this unruly incident. No, Jayalalitha is not responsible. May be ISI and Pakistan.

Now it is my turn to roam in New Delhi once again but I want my South back. Give me my South. Give me my Indiappam and Appam.

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