Posts Tagged ‘Bangalore’

When The Egg, The Bean, The Crumpet and The W-and-Soda ended up meeting each other in Bangalore recently, they met at Koshy’s, an iconic hangout joint in the no-longer-as-green-a-city. Visited in the past by such illustrious figures as Pandit Jawaharlal Nehru, Queen Elizabeth II and Nikita Khrushchev, the place proved to be classy, sporting a stiff-upper-lip dispensation, generally brooking no nonsense.

The management of Koshy’s does not encourage guests to throw bread crumbs at each other. The reasons are not far to seek. One, they make their own bread, thereby looking askance at any attempts to denigrate the same in any way. Two, their clientele comprises the kind of intellectual coves who despise any show of what, in their jaundiced view, would amount to a dash of frivolity.

In order to ensure strict compliance with this code of theirs, they ensure that the sandwiches dished out by them are made up of bread which does not boast of a crisp crust at the edges. Also, the sandwiches are so very delicious that the mere thought of wasting even a residual scrap would not enter the minds of those who devour them.

The ambience at Koshy’s is otherwise vibrant. The decibel levels are on the higher side, thereby prompting all those who are there to engage in lively conversations with each other. This in turn ensures that smart phone addiction is kept under a strict check. Also, guests at nearby tables cannot hope to listen in when one of the residents of Plumsville decides to either sing Sonny Boy or replicate the Market Snodsbury speech of Gussie Fink Nottle.

Waiters of all hues, sizes and shapes hover in the background, serving the guests with alacrity and servitude. They also appear to be well-trained at thwarting any attempts at throwing boiled eggs at the ceiling fans merrily whirring above.

The Egg happened to be in the city on a business errand, discovered that a Plummy meet was in the offing on the day, and decided to walk in. The Crumpet was on his way from India to Norway and was keen to meet others in the fans club. Both of them arrived early and lost no time in discussing the reasons underlying the popularity of the works of P G Wodehouse.

The Bean and The W-and-S, both residents of the city, walked in soon enough, mopping their brows after having braved the challenging traffic conditions of the metropolis.

The Bean, a real estate magnate, regaled all others with his unique sense of humour. He regretted having missed out on a similar gig in the City of Joy some time back, owing to Fate having struck him with a lead pipe very close to the event.

The W-and-S, a business strategy expert, occasionally butted in with his intellectual comments, thereby spicing up the proceedings. He also narrated personal experiences from his life which keep him connected to Plum.

The Egg described in detail as to how a stern lion tamer built along the lines of Miss Mapleton was responsible for his discovery of the blissful world of Plum in his earlier school days.

The Crumpet expressed his desire to enable more of the younger lot to get introduced to the joys of reading Plum. He and The Egg recounted their Plummy encounter in New Delhi during November 2017.

Regrettably, attempts at any display of chivalrous tendencies by those present were rendered impossible, since two of those of the so-called delicately nurtured tribe, who were expected to show up, decided to accord higher importance to their familial responsibilities. The Gin-and-Tonic was busy elsewhere, fussing over her ailing mother. The Watermelon Vodka was attempting to strike a finer balance between her work and home life. The feudal spirit reigned supreme on the day.

The future offers far richer possibilities. The Jayamahal Palace Hotel is another favourite haunt of the Bangalore Plummies. Often, other residents of Plumsville keep trooping in from the City of Joy and elsewhere, thereby providing an excuse to Plum’s fans in the city to take some time off from their mundane chores and wade in Plummy waters, uplifting the spirits dulled by a relentless pounding by the harsh slings and arrows of Life.

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