41st anniversary of The Times of India, Bengaluru: A Plateful of bliss

Time of India

19-07-2025

By
Ajit Bhaskar
'Jeeju, why aren't you eating your dose (mind you, not dosa),' asked my sister-in-law. I shyly replied, 'I'm waiting for the sambar'. She said, 'We don't do dose with sambar.
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Just chutney.
' Just like that, my first visit to Vidyarthi Bhavan was an eye-opener. My jaws dropped when I had my first taste of Bengaluru-style dose. Coax a bite off right down the middle. I heard the slight crunch. The golden, crisp, yet pliable dose, palya, scoop with swalpa chutney. I had not tasted anything so exquisite in my life. And that was the beginning of my rendezvous with the glorious Thindi culture of Bengaluru.
This was nearly 15 years ago. Since then, it has been an exhilarating journey, discovering Bengaluru through food.
Like any other migrant, I had certain notions about Bengaluru. Being a scientist, I had an open mind to learn and absorb, and that helped change my views over time. For the better.
I live life through gastronomic experiences. Every tryst leaves a lasting impression -- be it the first crunch of the gari-gari vade at SLV Banashankari or my first Davanagere benne dose at Sri Gurukottureshwara, or my first Mangaluru buns and haalbaai.
Discovering the emotion called 'rice bath' is at Muddanna Hotel truly changed my life.
Bengaluru is laid back, but when it comes to food, it never sleeps. There is a vibrant late-night dose scene in the Pete areas, Banashankari and near Lalbagh. You can get terrific thindi any time of the day, if you know where to look for it. Thindi starts as early as 5.30am. I got a shock when I visited Namma SLN (not too far from Vidyarthi Bhavan) at 10am and I was told they were out of sabsige (dill) idlis.
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This also happens to be a Cubbonpete-style darshini where the concepts of sambar and filter coffee do not exist.
Bengaluru is a microcosm of regional cultures and communities within Karnataka, in addition to being a cosmopolitan hub, where thousands of people move to every single year to pursue their dreams. I got to discover these nuances, thanks to my moving from Jayanagar to Whitefield (an area older than Jayanagar and very much part of Bengaluru) to live close to the office.
It took me a day to realise the utter lack of the thindi scene in Whitefield.
Luckily, I liked to run. From 2011 to 2017, I used to pick a Saturday or Sunday, and run to either Basavanagudi, Cubbonpete, Vijayanagar or Malleswaram, or Rajajinagar, have breakfast at a darshini, particularly at more offbeat ones, and take a bus or a cab back home.
I shared this experience on social media. People expressed interest in joining the Thindi part, and so we formed a small group.
Post-Covid, when a few of us were relishing dose at Mangala hotel, folks decided to add more people to the group. Five became 100 overnight, and two years later, it is 1,300 people strong. It is aptly named Thindi Capital.
We go for walks, sample 4-5 darshinis in an area and have a fantastic time. About 20-30 strangers bond over food and their love for it. More importantly, we shed our preconceived notions about food in Bengaluru.
We explore beyond the morning thindi scene.
Afternoons in Bengaluru open a whole new world – that of chaats. Bengalureans have been having chaats since the 1950s. Our chaats are light, and depend on fresh ingredients like tomatoes, peas, carrots, onions, cucumbers, raw mango (mavinakayi bhel!), pineapples, even banana stem. Masala puri is a warm, comforting hug on cool, breezy evenings. Bangarpete pani puri, with its pellucid, yet deceptively spicy pani, is Karnataka's best-kept secret, not available anywhere else.
Uttara Karnataka-style girmit, nargees, and mandakki oggarane are truly works of art. So are our Shetty-style chaats. Our bun congress, bun nippat, boti masala have a separate fan base. The amalgamation of flavours, textures from fresh ingredients, and less to no reliance on potatoes and deep frying is what makes our chats unique, light, and truly delectable.
We also relish our bakeries for their puffs, honey cake, palya buns and dilpasand.
But it's not just food we discover. It is also the way of life. Bengaluru has become synonymous with hustle and bustle, 24/7, which is true for a certain demographic, trying to start up.
Deep down, we are super easy-going. My favourite place, for instance, is in a small lane in Cubbonpete. It is very easy to miss. SK Tiffin room opens at 8.30am, closes by 11:30am. No app-based delivery, no influencer marketing or branches.
They have just four items on the menu -- idli, chitranna, tomato bath and dose. Rajajinagara's Ajji Hotel is another. It's a shack with no nameboard with three operational hours and three items on the menu -- idli, chitranna and bondas.
Almost every old Bengaluru area has such places, some not even listed on Google Maps. One could perceive this as a lack of ambition and entrepreneurship. To me, it is a refreshing sense of clarity.
Quality over quantity. Life over burnout. They would rather ensure limited, but consistently amazing food over anything else. That's it. In this day and age, that glorifies slogging 24x7, that is remarkable clarity! The beauty of this city lies in its quality of embracing.
It may look thick and hard. But if you make a small effort to crack it, you'll find it soft and warm inside, and full of flavours. Hard to tell I'm talking about life in Bengaluru or our masala dose! Bengaluru has its challenges. But there is no other city that feels like home the way Bengaluru does. Bengaluru embraced me for the limited offerings that I have on my menu. An open mind, an open stomach, the willingness to learn, and being a nice person.
Ashte. Saaku.