JOIN US‘By-two’ convention
Fine day, “Good day”. Such pleasantries are redundant for Bengaluru, which is blessed with the best climate. Instead, its citizens are known to wish each other with “kaapi ayitha?”, or “oota ayitha”, depending on the time of the day, making an outsider wonder whether they have been suffering from deprivation, or if they are reminding each other of tasks to be accomplished. And mostly, the time doesn’t matter too. It’s simply uttered as a greeting.
Food and drink seem to be high points of the day, with the city folk known to occasionally take a break from their bites and sips to attend to some work. Clerks at offices are perpetually out on a coffee or lunch break. The boss always finds his subordinates more committed to the cafeteria.
For the Bengalurean, multi-tasking is simply sipping coffee with one hand and nibbling savouries with the other.
So, how do they manage the constant intake without feeling bilious? Is it the climate or their constitution? That’s the secret. They have evolved a method that allows them intermittent indulgence without the attendant discomfort. It’s Bengaluru’s famous “by-two” convention, where the dosage is just enough to fulfil the craving but not too much to deny another helping very soon. The instructions to the waiter, “By-two coffee, one less” doesn’t mean a skewed division of the share between two cups. “Less”, in Bengaluru’s stand-up cafe parlance is short for “sugarless”.
But such indulgence doesn’t mean Bengalureans take their fitness lightly. They can be seen stretching, striding and sprinting with a great sense of purpose in the city’s famous parks and open spaces every morning. But it’s not their fault that their favourite restaurants are located just outside the parks’ gates. It doesn’t take a drop of sweat for the perspiring joggers to give in to their instinct and order a big blob of butter on the shining masala dosa, justifying the act with the rationale that they had just burnt enough calories.
As they step out of the restaurant, they are greeted by another regular, “tiffin ayitha” and answer him with a burp and the smacking of the lips. Thus begins another day for the Bengalurean, with the first task accomplished, and it won’t be too long before he is reminded of his next assignment by another acquaintance with the question “kaapi ayitha?”
(This column looks at some food fetishes and secrets from a city of gastronomes and beyond.)