Just as the restaurant itself is hidden in Indiranagar, Korean too is hidden in the menu. Actually, it doesn’t exist. There’s only Japanese. Now that I got that off my chest, we got there on a Sunday afternoon and had the place all to ourselves. It’s functional in terms of seating but made quite lively with the use of lighting and the art.
D, I have realised will have Miso if there is Miso, so we ended up with a delicious Miso Shiru that set the appetite well for the Stir Fried Beef, which had great texture and just the right amount of spice for us.
We first met Tamagoyaki at the Tsukiji Outer Market in Tokyo and I have been a fan since. This one didn’t really reach that level, but was definitely not bad.
We debated mains a lot and finally agreed on Gyu Niku Udon – udon topped with beef (again). On hindsight, we should have chosen something else because it was a bit similar to the soup. But we enjoyed it nevertheless.
We were a bit disappointed since we wanted Korean, but Japanese is a good second. The service is prompt and very helpful. We were left lighter by about Rs.1800. Overall, not a bad outing if you’re craving Japanese.
Hokkaido Japanese & Korean Restaurant, 10/1-1, 1st Floor, 7th Main, 1st Cross, Appareddypalya, Indiranagar
Such is the impression left by Mitch Albom’s “Tuesdays with Morrie” that more than a decade later, the moment I realised it was the same Morrie, I had to buy The Wisdom of Morrie. Rob Schwartz, son of Morrie Schwartz discovered the manuscript, written during 1988-92, in the early 2000s and with the help of his mother, edited it.
While the book is full of insights that are useful at any stage of life, by the author’s own admission, it speaks to the sixty five year old and beyond. But I am glad I read it now. One of the things that I have complained about is the way mid life almost blindsided me, with the physical, mental, and emotional changes it brought. This book is a great primer for the next stage, and I will most definitely read it again in another 15-20 years.
The book is divided into nine chapters, each of which delves into a specific domain. It begins with one’s own awareness of aging and impending death, and the contradictions one faces at later stages in life – some things become easier, and some more difficult, you want some things (solitude) and their opposite (company) – and how one can find an emotional balance.
It then moves on to how we can expand our awareness, which according to Morrie is the summation of the many tools one requires to age well and become the best version of oneself. He also calls out ageism and agecasting, and notes how one can do it to self as well.
The next chapter is where the book gets into great detail on the actual issues people face as they age, and how to handle them. This is the longest chapter, and rightfully so. The following chapter continues this theme – how to come to terms with all the baggage we have accumulated thus far. The last two chapters are perspectives on how to age well, and become the best version of oneself.
Morrie not only uses the knowledge he had amassed from his work as a psychologist and teacher, but effectively channels the empathy and reassurance of someone who is himself living through it, and knows many others who do. This puts him in perfect position to not only understand the challenges, but also provide ways to overcome them. Not in theory, but in actual practice. He delivers this with sensitivity and compassion, using logic as well as anecdotal examples.
In the Hindu ashrama concept, we have vanaprastha and sanyasa. This is a great resource for anyone in these stages. And for those others who want a sneak preview.
Insight Fear is often the mirror image of need. For example, our need for self-preservation is the other side of our fear of physical injury.
In Lessons in Chemistry, Lewis Pullman’s character is an orphan (in real life, his father is Bill Pullman, who in other lives was a fantastic American President in the mid 90s and in the 2020’s was a tortured, but great detective). But I digress.
His character is quite an achiever, but I don’t think that’s how the average orphan’s life goes. There are a lot of famous people who were orphaned, but subsequently adopted. I’d think that the number not adopted would be higher though, and in any case, we rarely know about unexceptional lives. Many of us who lose even one parent early in life feel the loss consciously or subconsciously. And I am reasonably sure it shapes our character and worldview. At least I can speak for myself. Even for those whose loss comes later in life – after their own lives are reasonably well established, there is the sudden jolting realisation that an unquestioning, non-judging backup, even if it was never used, is now gone forever.
And so I wonder, what does it mean to live a life when it starts with rejection? How does it feel when they become conscious of it the first time? Does it happen when one among them get adopted? Is there loneliness, or does their bond with the others help them avoid that? What about a sense of privacy? Do they even get that, do they even think of that when they rarely have space of their own? What about ownership? How does the concept work when everything is practically shared?
When they grow up, how does all this affect the way they engage with the world? What about expectations – from others, their own of themselves, or fulfilling someone else’s? Do their relationships suffer from the baggage of rejection? Does their behaviour with others get affected because of their (non) notions about privacy and ownership? How complex must it be for them to accept and receive love?
Sometimes I think being raised by parents or even one parent is one of those privileges – like having a well-functioning body with all appendages intact, all sense organs working fine – that we easily take for granted. After all, we only have to reflect on the routes we want to travel in the journey of life, and that in itself is not easy. Imagine being rootless, unable to resolve where one came from.
Not often in the fiction genre does one find a novel that is challenging and entertaining. The fact that I did not buy this book (D did) is a coincidence that does seem very meta. I absolutely loved The Coincidence Plot – its explorations of philosophy, the layering of its plots and characters, and the fantastic conversations that they have with each other, and sometimes, themselves.
The book is a wandering of sorts, centred around coincidences and the kind of God that exists in such a world. If that smells like Spinoza, it’s not a coincidence. The plots, subplots, and characters are all built around this theme. Starting with Artur, a mathematician escaping Nazi Germany and working on Spinoza’s thesis after his work on the uncertainty of mathematical proofs remains unfinished, to two characters working on novels to bring to existence this mathematician’s life and thoughts – “ontological proof for the existence of God”. In case I made it out to be a mind-numbing philosophy grind, it isn’t. The characters and interesting, and well-written, and so are their relationships.
It’s definitely not the standard linear book. Each chapter has two characters from a finite set, but placed across different geographical settings and time periods. As we go along, the parallels are unmistakeable, and that is not a coincidence. Anil Menon seems to know a bunch of things about a bunch of things. It allows him to create layers and depths, and when you combine that with the twin powers of a fantastic sense of humour, and a poignant sensitivity and empathy towards grief and the human condition in general, it creates a marvel. Sometimes preposterous, sometimes profound, this has been one of my favourite fiction reads in a while!
My friend A has fantastic taste in design, and from the few samples I’ve had, cooks well to. So when she decided to start The Bah, in our little village of Whitefield, I was absolutely thrilled. We visited right when it opened, and then made a repeat visit recently.
The Bah is reasonably well-hidden, like every treasure should be. But if you’re willing to step into that corporate monstrosity of a building, and step on to that seemingly lonesome escalator, you will find a lovely space – in terms of ambiance, food, and drinks. The fun tone manages to blend seamlessly with the seriousness in aesthetics and dining.
We loved the al fresco seating because… Bangalore weather. We also liked that children are only allowed during specific times. That thankfully keeps away the kind of crowd that leave their children to ‘graze’ on other people’s spaces while they themselves enjoy. A gave us a little guided tour when we visited first, and I loved the thoughtfulness in the different kind of seating spaces.
Anyone who makes me a good Old Fashioned is my BFF. The Bah’s Old Fashioned is just the way I like it, none of that syrupy sweetness that most places degrade it to. On the first visit, D had a berry concoction that was fantastic. A had recommended but I can’t find it in the menu. But then, my attention span is low beyond whisky and rum. 😐 She ordered The Lonely G & Not T the next time, and got lucky again.
During my most recent visit, I also got a taste of one of the soon-to-be-introduced flavours – Salted Caramel Rum! Absolutely fantastic, and very well suited to my tastes.
‘The Other Nuts’ is a great nibble with drinks. The usually humble masala peanuts elevated with feta. When Bangalore’s lovely weather permits, try the Creamy Chicken soup too, it’s delicious. The big winner in starters is the Shotgun Pork Strips, to the extent that we repeated it in our second visit, a rare thing for us to do. The only disappointment were the beef dishes – we tried the Namauru Beef Fry Taco and the Beef Sukkha and weren’t fans of either. The beef was fine, the masala was out of flavour, and favour.
For a change, I managed to pick a winner. The Sunny-side Ravioli is an absolute delight, with a killer herbed butter sauce. The Guanciale Carbonara is good too, again the rich egg yolk – parmesan sauce making the difference.
It is not a looker, but it’s a keeper. I don’t think I can ever get enough of the Chocolate Peanut Butter ice cream here. The win again is the subtlety of flavours. That is going to be a problem in future, because there are at least three other desserts here that I’d want to try.
The service is great, and the tasteful music adds to the ambiance. Our meal cost us a little over Rs. 4000, which I thought was money well spent, given the experience. I am absolutely biased but I’ve also heard good things from others who visited. So if you’re ever in the rural outpost called Whitefield, drop in.
The Bah, 2nd Floor, Primeco Union City, ITPL Main Road, Whitefield Ph: 9611081642
