m a n u s c r y p t s

..comes a movie, these days, that forces me to write about it thanks to its mindblowing simplicity. Yes, that is a rare combination of words, at least for me.

I had hoped to watch Neelathamara when I’d gone home last, but was quite surprised to find that it wasn’t playing anymore in any of the theatres in Cochin. So, when it was released in PVR a fortnight back, I made it a point to book in advance, since very few Malayalam movies last beyond a week here. We had some drama off the screen, since Sreedevi Unni, who has a major role in the movie, was also in the theatre. Also, the entire title sequence was shown in split screen despite the traditional howling protests. Apparently the projection guy was busy with his dinner!!

In this age when the “poor girl meets rich boy and falls in love” theme is used mainly in film spoofs, it is perhaps impossible to imagine that this seemingly flimsy storyline can evolve into a movie that kept me spellbound for almost 2 hours. Neelathamara would translate to “blue lotus”, but as a character points out in the beginning of the movie, the flower in question is really not a lotus. But it does serve as a symbol of dreams, faith and perhaps, illusions too.

The movie is based on an original story by M.T.Vasudevan Nair, and was also made into a movie way back in 1979, with him writing the script. This is a modern retelling and the same author has made a few tweaks to suit a modern audience. Kudos to him for doing that but yet ensuring that the simplicity of the original story is retained. I couldn’t slot this movie into any pre defined movie category of mine. It didn’t make me think, it is definitely not timepass, it does not serve out dollops of comedy/drama/action and yet it affected me more than any recent movie has.

So what really was it that worked? There were a set of well written characters, who retained a certain integrity about themselves. Each of them were special in their own way, and not just the main characters, but the supporting cast too -Sreedevi Unni as the hero’s mother, Rima Kallingal as Ammini (after the urban woman in rithu, this character was a polar opposite, but handled well), Samvrutha as Ratnam in a neat cameo, the bhagavathar who never appears on screen, but whose music adds so much to the movie, the aashaan whose wise words about the nature of life remained with me, they all played a crucial part. The author also managed to leave a few things to the viewer’s imagination, giving enough hints to help complete the story. (Ammini’s story) Archana who plays the principal character of Kunjimalu steals the show with her subtle rendition. And though the hero is really no match, (erm, no pun intended, really) his portrayal of a character whose interest in the girl is at best a distraction, is quite genuine.

The songs are absolutely fantastic, and while sublime in themselves, also manage to take the storyline forward. This would be my favourite.

The movie runs at its own pace, and yet never managed to bore me. A lot of it had perhaps to do with the way it has re-captured a rustic Kerala setting from a few decades back. The temple, temple pond gossip, aalmaram conversations, they seem a world from long ago, simple and almost self sufficient. I think that’s just it. While I was born in a city and lived all my life there, the world the movie is set in, is one I am familiar with, thanks to vacations and temple visits. The movie was a journey in time, and more than a place and time, it was a way of life. It rekindled a hope in me, that one day I’ll be able to go back to Kerala, and live in that state.. of mind.  Its a dream of simplicity, my very own neelathamara.

until next time,  if you haven’t done so yet, visit the spanking new home -- www.manuprasad.com

It has come to be this way. The pattern. After every break I take, whether its a trip to Kerala, or a vacation to the beaches or the mountains. Its fairly easy to understand, the daily grind leaves very little time to ponder. Spend 5 days looking forward to the weekend, and maximise the two days for all its worth. Which is perhaps why the trips away from the routine premises have a way of giving one more perspective. An opening of the mind, so to speak.

It brings in a few new experiences, it puts old  things in a new light, it gives a more objective view of the daily routine.  It highlights the things that are really important to one. It helps one revisit the tags. Most importantly, it shows glimpses of what could be, it opens up new avenues of thought – of building a revenue model for this life that one can be happy with, to figure out those things that one likes to do and would also get paid for, to wake up in the morning and be inspired about what one is going to achieve that day,  other than doing the bit to ensure the EMI gets paid. Existential angst that can be resolved only by living, instead of existing. Not that these thoughts cannot happen on any given any day, its just that the trips offer a more conducive environment for the mind.

But the pattern. What typically happens is that these lines of thought don’t stay with me for more than a few days. The flights of thought run aground when they meet the daily grind. I always wonder if they are really that far apart in the current state that they don’t even stand a chance of co-existence. Perhaps they are.

But this time, after I get back from Kerala, I decide that its time to break the pattern and stretch beyond the limits I have set for myself, in thought and deed. I wake up, eager to start the day and make the necessary changes to my life, to go beyond the posturing and figure out the way forward. As I get busy with the morning yoga routine, the mobile rings. I stretch my hand out for it. The neck and the back refuse to shoulder any responsibility for what the mind and the rest of the body seek to achieve. A kind of neck jewelry results, the beige collared worker has arrived.   But I’ll be back.

until next time, exercise caution

PS. Too many introspective posts these days, I had to make a clean break

I was actually in the mood for a good steak, but plans had to be changed because of the recent cattle controversy – didn’t want anyone to have any beef with me. Ok, actually, the place that I had in mind  – Pizzeria Romano, turned out to be a veg only joint (according to Burrp). Bah. And that’s how we ended up at Coastal junction in Indiranagar. To get there, get on to 12th Main, towards 80 ft Road, and turn left at the end of the road. You’ll find Rosebys on your left. Coastal Junction is on the 4th and 5th floors.

Since it was a nice breezy evening, we decided to try out the 5th floor terrace option. We reached there by around 7.45, and so were able to get a nice corner seat with an awesome view. If you’re planning to go after 8, it’d be safer to reserve. The seating is quite comfortable, and the tables decently spread out so that it isn’t claustrophobic, altogether it manages to justify the fine dining description, in terms of ambience, even if only just so.

Though I’d expected mostly sea food in the menu, it surprised me with a decent collection of veg options. For starters, vegetarians can choose from more than half a dozen options, including things not regularly seen – banana flower, yam, sannas masala, crispy fried raw banana. (Rs.90-125). The non veg starters have a huge selection of sea food – prawns and fish mostly, lobster, (Rs.260-325) as well as chicken (Rs.195) and mutton. (Rs.255)

Again, for the main course, there are quite a few options for vegetarians, including an ullitheeyal, pachakari stew, kerala sambar among others. (Rs. 115-155, yes, we grimaced too, at the thought of a sambar at a three figure cost). For those who cast a wider net as far as consumption goes, there’s a goan crab curry, lots of prawn and fish options (the latter mostly Kerala dishes Rs.265-315), chicken dishes (Xacuti, kori gassi, malabar stew among others, Rs.235) and a couple of mutton dishes. (Rs.295). To go along with that, you could either have biriyani (prawn/chicken/fish/mutton Rs.265-365) or choose from kappa, appams, sannas, neer dosas, idiappam, kori roti, malabar paratha (Rs.45-65) or even plain rice.They also serve alcohol and seem to have a decently stocked bar.

Complimentary rice papadoms with a sauce and a cut mango pickle, and a glass of  rasam are given before the meal.  Do try out the pickle. Excellent stuff. We started with a Kane Bazulle, “ladyfish marinated in Mangalore masala and deep fried”. This is quite different from the rava fry we tend to order. The coconut oil flavor is unmistakable, and though  it could’ve been fried a bit more, it was quite good. For the main course, we ordered a Kottayam fish curry, “seer fish cubes cooked in spicy red coconut gravy”, a Chicken Coondapur, “semi dry chicken cooked in freshly ground coconut, red chillies, jeera and garam masala”, and to go with it, Malabar Paratha,”kerala special layered bread” and egg appam, “soft centre, crispy lace edged rice pancake with egg” (yeah yeah, the fine dining version of porotta and mutta appam for all those sniggering mallus reading this :p ). The fish curry, though spicy and delicious was a mistake. D says she was deceived by the coconut in the description, she expected it to be a thick gravy, but it wasn’t. It’d actually be great with plain rice or kappa, but we managed with the paratha. The chicken dish had a thick gravy, excellent stuff, and highly recommended, but only if you’re okay with grated coconut. The paratha was for once, wasn’t flaky, and was made well. The appam’s shape was slightly off, as compared to the ones we usually see, but was very tasty.

Though the dessert options were different from the regular stuff we see (except for the ice creams) – dhodol, pazaham pradhaman, elaneer payasam, ada pradhaman (Rs.110-135), we were completely stuffed by then. Another example of their consistency (with the theme) was the mouth freshener – a cashew+nutmeg+cardamom Mangalore supari mix. The service deserves mention because it was the best we’ve experienced in quite a long time. They offer help with the menu, point out the not-so-obvious stuff, and are extremely prompt – right from when they bring out different courses to refilling water, and billing.

All of the above cost us a little less than Rs.1000. Though its not inexpensive, the place is worth a visit, especially if you’re in the mood for some good coastal food.

Coastal Junction, No:623, 11th Main, 80 ft Road, Indiranagar. Ph: 41523470

Today is Onam. I’ll get wished – “Happy Onam”, and I’ll mutter a thanks/flash a smile, hopefully not weary/ type a ‘thanks’ with a smiley that will not reflect the emotions within. That’s perhaps apt, because there aren’t many emotions within. I concluded a Kerala visit last weekend, and felt compelled to figure out what I was feeling. – for Cochin, as always, and for Onam, because it was the season.

I sit in the fancy store, as D and another M swan around trying to find appropriate things to hang from their neck/ears/hair. They aren’t alone, there is an assortment of folks of their gender, all there for the same purpose. Sometime during their existence, the store owners figured out that those of the other gender would really be lost souls in such a place, so they made sure there was a corner where they could be lost souls without impinging on the ecstasy of the real shoppers. A nice goodwill gesture. And so there I sit, with my companion, which never fails to respond to my touch, and type a few words, which are then saved in the messages drafts folder. Alternately gawking and typing, and realising that the shoppers would be here again very soon, in search of the latest trends in accessories. Fashions change quickly, after all.

I move around the city that once used to be undisputed home, and familiar feelings bob up. Things have changed, and it is perhaps no longer undisputed. An old breakfast joint, which has many memories attached to it, has changed its name. I look up at an old building, hoping to catch a glimpse of the old lending library that set the tone for many current reading habits. It no longer exists. It is strange how, these days, when I go back to Cochin, I have mixed feelings. Where once there was only a sense of belonging, the changes have ensured that there is now also a sense of un-belonging. Earlier, I couldn’t fully grasp this feeling, could one be homesick at home? But then I remember a comment that Cyn had made on an old post – “An Idea called Home“, where she described it as being ‘homesick for a life stage’. There’s an image of Cochin that exists only in my mind, with many tags, its from an age long ago.

I watch a movie – ‘Rithu‘ (Seasons), in a theatre complex that had 3 screens from the time I knew it, back in the 80’s. Music composed by an old school pal. (that deserves a post too…soon) Its a lovely story about childhood friends, about how their relationship(s) change when they grow up, and how they themselves have changed. I realise that its not just places, we also ‘tag’ people at different stages of our lives and we often don’t bother to update the tag, a kind of self-conditioning. Parents, siblings, friends, relatives, they have all been tagged at some point and not updated after some point, the tags define how we behave with them at every point later in life.  Over time, each believe they have different priorities/viewpoints/interests and so on,  maybe that’s why sometimes when we are ready for a relationship, they aren’t, and vice versa. There’s a chance that we will miss the opportunity to form a bond. We fail each other, without even realising it. We change, we move on, but the tags, in many ways, remain constant.

I also realise that we do it to ourselves too – tags. We make images of ourselves which define what we say and do. We tag ourselves. We rarely acknowledge that and proceed to make up our own justifications, which suit us/others. They make sense at a particular point in time, they may or may not later. Yet, we live by them. Do we revisit the tags…objectively?

One of the reasons, I store thoughts and feelings here is because I want to look back. Who was I in that September of 2009, what was i feeling, what was i thinking, can i understand me at a later point? It is amazing how some earlier posts give perspectives about the self, that had been forgotten. Time has a way of distorting, hopefully these tags will aid me in objectivity at a later point.

Meanwhile, almost every shop has the ‘Onam Discount’ board put up. There are restaurants that have already announced their ‘sadya‘ rates. What is Onam to me? At a very young age, I had thought it was someone’s wedding since that was the other time we used to have a sadya on banana leaves. Memories – ten days of school holidays, a trip – most likely to Palakkad, meeting up with the vast set of paternal relatives and a few days of fun, collecting flowers for making pookkalams, dressing up in the traditional mundu, visits to temples, and so on. These are childhood memories and it is interesting how the memories dwindle as I look back to the later years of my life. The recent memories are somehow more indistinct, not separated much from the days before or after, except for the special (new) movies that get shown on television. I wonder whether I should stay back for a few more days and script a few new tags. I don’t. So, ironically, Onam survives, on its early tags. For now, I think that’s best. And as the line in that movie goes, I eagerly await the next Rithubhedam (change of seasons) of my mind.

until next time, thanks for tagging along on a mind ride

PS. For a more light hearted approach to Onam, you could check out my version of the myth, my Ram Gopal Varma version and the 55 word view.

This is an anthology of 26 works, edited by Shinie Antony, who also contributes a few as author, interviewer and chronicler. The title, IMHO, is a bit misleading since the works themselves, while touching upon various aspects of life in the state or offering perspectives on its history, culture or working as travelogues, do not attempt to bring out the contrary nature, in whatever form that’s meant. Different individuals’ point of view, does that make a collection ‘contrary’? I’m not so sure. To be fair, a couple of works do attempt to show the contrary nature of the state and its residents, but that’s in isolation, and anyway are not enough in number to justify the title.
Having said that, there are quite a few which I immensely liked. Will mention those (in the order in which they appear in the book)
Odd Morning by Susan Visvanathan. I’ve always been a fan of her work after I read ‘Something Barely Remembered’. There’s something that’s wistful and haunting about the way she writes, and this piece follows that style.
William Dalrymple’s “The Strange Sisters of Mannarkad” is quite enlightening, and has a fascinating theme of religion and legend.
Anita Nair’s “Orhan Pamuk, Nair and I” is a wonderful short story that explores the psyche of Kerala’s writers and critics.
“The Argumentative Malayali” by D.Vijayamohan perhaps best justifies the book’s title, as it captures Kerala’s unique stance on global and national issues. As a malayali, I’d say that his observation and insights are spot on. Anti-communist? Probably, but I can’t blame him. For me, its one of the best works in the book.
S S Lal’s “A medicine that cannot be prescribed” is the kind of short story I love. The perfect mix of food for thought and a mild twist in the tale, that makes a perfect ending.
“Sitrep Seventies” by Hormis Tharakan is perhaps the strongest contender for the best work in the book. While I was mildly puzzled by the way the piece started, the way it swept across centuries and the lifestream nature of the work grew on me, and its amazing insights on law and human nature just raised it to a whole new level.
Shreekumar Varma’s “Fort Lines” is a story anyone who has lived in the state, or visited on a ‘wrong day’ can absolutely identify with. I wish the kind of cosmic justice that appeared in the work happened in real life too!!
“No Sex Please, We have cable” by Suresh Menon ended up as my favourite work. The humour is amazing, and I could easily identify the way a place changes or remains the same depending on what you’re looking for.
Nimz Dean, all of 13 years old is the youngest contributor at “The Gift”, and the 2 page work definitely shows promise.
Shashi Tharoor uses all of his skills to make a passionate case for Kerala and investments in the state in “Building Brand Kerala”. A well written piece but having lived there most of my life, and having worked there for some and having seen enough hartals in the recent past , I am not convinced.
“Happy” by Omana (as told to Shinie Antony) is amazing food for thought material, and is a fine ending to the book.

So that’s about 11 out of 26, which are really good works, and a few others could work for you depending on your interests.

It is quite an apt name for this little restaurant in Koramangala, for during our first innings in Koramangala, a few years back, this used to be our regular take away joint. Of course, the primary reason was the awesome beef roast, and that’s been my beef with them for some time now, they have stopped serving erm, beef. Anyway, to get there, take the road from Sony World (on the Koramangala – Indiranagar Intermediate Ring Road) towards Koramangala 1st Block. You’ll find it on the left after Umerkot. Here’s the map, ‘B’ is the correct location. Parking is a small problem, and you will have to find some space in one of those small lanes that dot the area.

This is the place to head to, when all the three conditions are met – you are in Koramangala, you want to pig on Mallu food (and want a break from the Empire/Imperial/Paramount trimurtis) and you don’t really care about the ambience. So, while the menu claims North indian and Chinese, with soups and kebabs and even a chopsey (sic) ignore all that and stick to God’s own food.They have thalis (Rs.55 and Rs.90 for veg and non veg respectively) and ‘Meals’ (Rs. 55 for veg, and Rs. 75 for chicken, and fish) but these options are only for lunch. Ditto for kappa and meen curry (tapioca and fish), that was a disappointment, especially for D, who takes her sun sign very seriously. [Why isn't there a sunsign for chicken or chocolate, I'd get serious too ]

So we took long hard looks at the menu and found quite a few chicken dish names that we haven’t encountered anywhere else – kakanadan, tawakiran, tamiya etc!! We chose to be eh, conservative, and ordered half portions of  chicken stew and chicken roast, an avoli (pomfret), and to go along with that a plate of appam and a plate of Kerala porotta. We’d have liked some kallumakkai (mussels) too, but they didn’t seem to have it  yesterday. At some point of time, when the initial excitement of all this stuff had passed, and we were wondering what next, we overheard a conversation about kaada (quail) and asked for a kaada roast too, and another plate of porottas. Ask for the takeaway menu, since that is more updated and you can find stuff like kaada and rabbit, duck etc too.

The food was just as we remembered, fantastic. I’d advise half portions because you can then try out more stuff. The stew was well made, with no stinginess on the coconut milk. The chicken roast has a paste like gravy that’s quite spicy, so if you aren’t a fan of stuff that sets your tongue on fire, stay away. The kaada roast is similar in consistency, and in terms of spice, starts off from where its chicken counterpart left off. Quails have crunchy bones,  and you really can’t separate the meat easily, so you could order one plate and figure out if you like it.  The pomfret was excellent, fried just right, well cooked yet soft. The porottas were a bit flaky, but soft enough, so I won’t complain. The appams were also made well, and it was really a tough call when we had to choose the stuff to go with the quail.For the record, the beef would’ve made the meal unforgettable, sigh…

All of the above cost us just under Rs.400 I assume, you get the USP of the place – awesome food at VFM prices. Don’t expect a fine dining experience, but when choosing a place for Mallu food, this one should easily be a front runner.

Little Home, No 1015,1st Block,Hosur Road, Koramangala. Ph: 25631504

I started reading a Pico Iyer book a few days back “Video night in Kathmandu”. I was hooked on from the first page because he started off with an icon from my childhood – Rambo Pico Iyer writes about how in the mid 80s Rambo took over Asia – China, Indonesia, Burma, Thailand, India lording over cinemas, inspiring local versions and becoming what the author calls (then) America’s single biggest export, and the most powerful force in Asia that autumn.

I could identify totally with this. I still remember the trips to Guruvayur, the famous temple town in Kerala. No, I haven’t totally lost it. You see, the rest of the family went to Guruvayur with spirituality in mind, but for me, it was mostly materialistic, the kind of simple joy that a typical 7 year old finds in staying in a hotel for a few days, having ‘non home’ food three times a day, and most importantly, after convincing everyone on how intact his spiritual outlook is, manages to charm his way into getting himself a few toys. The strange thing was, the toy shops that abounded around the temple had some excellent collection of superhero stickers, labels for notebooks and various knick knacks that I could never find in Cochin. So I always made it a point to devote a lot of time to checking out the stuff on display before I made a purchase.

[Aside: I also remember buying my first and only guitar there - a plastic contraption with Rishi Kapoor and Karz on the packaging]

And that’s how I found a toy set that enthralled me for (I think) at least a year. It was a Rambo kit! And in the days that followed, several citizens of a certain university campus in Cochin claimed to see a creature that suddenly sprang out of the bushes and from behind the acacia trees, dressed in (what were formerly decent) t shirts and trousers, with dark green crayon marks on them, similar to the ones on the face, with a cloth around his head and carrying plastic bows, and arrows that stuck to conducive walls using vacuum, and with a plastic gun and a sheathed plastic knife inserted into the trouser loops. The outdoor covert operations lasted only a few days, since, after scaring an old woman, the creature was captured, hauled (bawling) to his mom’s presence and subjected to severe interrogation, and mild physical punishment which resulted in more bawling, and confiscation of weapons. The weapons were returned the next day, but the theatre of overt operations was restricted to indoors. More than a couple of decades later, these memories came storming back when I read the book, and as though the cosmos was conspiring, I got to know that Rambo (Part 4) was premiering that night on television.

But though he had conquered enemies in Vietnam and Afghanistan, Rambo was yet to face an Asian force, that having been born in the late 70s, would prove a formidable opponent to the aged warrior – D, no, not the one with the shades and company, but my wife. Yes, you could  argue that she has shady company too, but I shall ignore that for now. And that was how Rambo lost his first battle, as D refused to  even entertain the thought of watching the movie, and an agitated fan helplessly watched Cloverfield on another channel. D had drawn first blood!! Maybe I should practice my bawling.

until next time, marital laws!!

Anita Nair

This is Anita Nair’s first novel, and quite a good start. I could identify with it quite a bit, probably because of the Kerala setting, and therefore the familiarity with the kind of characters that appear in the background.
Having said that, the protagonist is quite a universal character. Mukundan, a retired government official, retires to his village and his childhood home, not by choice, but by the machinations of fate.
This is the story of how he faces the ghosts of his past, and understands that his fragile character is not equipped to deal with them. The same character which tends to fix the blame on external entities when it’s not able to fulfill the desires of the present, and the aspirations of the future.
This is also the story of ‘One-screw-loose’ Bhasi, ostensibly a house painter, but one with the ability to heal the human mind.
The story is about human nature, its selfishness, the games that the mind plays on itself and the redemption that happens when it faces its own inabilities and conquers them.

The Thippasandra version of this restaurant has been around for sometime now. But we’ve never managed to go there. So, when we saw an ad that announced the opening of a Thavarekere version, we didn’t waste much time in checking it out.

When coming from Dairy Circle, take a right turn on to Thavarekere Main Road (this is the road opposite Prestige Acropolis -Dairy Circle side/diagonally opposite the Dairy Circle entrance of Forum/right next to the SKC outlet). Keep going down this road, soon you’ll find Prestige St.John’s Woods on your left, and after about 200 m, you’ll find a fork in the road. Take the one towards the left, and then take the first left turn, and you’ll find Claypot on the left. Yes, like a lot of Mallu things, this one is quite left oriented.

ClayPot is the typical ‘no frills’ Mallu neighbourhood restaurant, though it serves North Indian, Chinese and Kerala cuisine. The first two are what we call Mallu versions of these cuisines, which would include things like Dall fry, Shreaded chicken with capscum, baiging chicken (sic sic sic), but then if you’re looking for perfection in such matters, you shouldn’t be here. This is the place to be when you want to gorge on Mallu stuff.

We ordered a Malabar style Chicken Fry, a ClayPot special chicken curry, a Karimeen Pollichathu and to go with all of that, an appam, a couple of mutta appams (egg appams), and a Kerala Porotta. The Malabar chicken fry is cooked in the best cooking oil in the world (for us mallus) – yep, coconut oil, and comes adorned with crisply fried onion. There are three pieces in one portion and is quite non spicy, that, I’m guessing is a rarity here, though to be fair, they do mark the spicy stuff with a chilli icon. The ClayPot special chicken curry is a white gravy with boneless chicken in a coconut milk base and is garnished with a full boiled egg. It looks harmless but is quite spicy, and the portion is more than sufficient for two people. Karimeen (Pearl Spot) Pollichathu is fried fish with a thick masala coating which is tomato and onion based with a strong Kokum (Kodum Puli) flavor. This one is delicious, but super spicy. The appams as well as the porotta turned out good too. We wanted to try some mussel dishes, but they’d run out of the stuff.  They did have some quail dishes, but I’m sure that if we tried to squeeze that in too, it’d be our stomachs which would be quailing!!

All of the above cost us just over Rs.350. That would tell you the story. You come here to have some excellent Mallu food without burning a hole in your pocket. While they have some North indian/Chinese veg options, I’d recommend this place only to hard core non veggies who can handle spicy stuff. There are many many more options that they offer in the Mallu cuisine part, and we’ll definitely go back for more.

ClayPot, #1/1, 1st Cross, Thavarekere, BTM Layout. Ph: 42190344/55, 9632227355

Update: Heard this one’s now closed

Kaayal has been on our radar for some time now. And when they announced a Malabar Biriyani festival from Feb 26th – Mar 1st, we decided there couldn’t be a better time.

When coming from Koramangala take a right turn at the 12th main junction, at the every end, take a right and then, a left at the next junction. (where you see a ‘Fresh’ outlet) You’ll see Kayal on the right after about a 100 metres. Its opposite Miranda High School, and on the second floor. Parking is a lil bit of a bother.

Kaayal, which means ‘backwaters’  is the quintessential Mallu restaurant, with a few props thrown in for good measure. While you get all the regular Kerala dishes here, the Biriyanis were the highlight. So we ordered a Chicken Biriyani and a Fish Biriyani and a sambhaaram (buttermilk) while we waited. The sambhaaram was about as spicy as it could get, but good.

The Chicken biriyani was very much like the ones we Mallus get in restaurants at home, complete with the egg, thats conspicuously missing in the versions usually found in Bangalore. D was quite miffed that her fish biriyani didn’t have one, but I guess it did make sense – limiting eggs to chicken biriyanis The problem with both was that the masala hasdn’t really seeped into the chicken/fish pieces. We also ordered a Beef fry, which we had been warned about earlier – that it usually was a bit rubbery. Unfortunately for us, it was quite a correct warning. All the stuff could’ve been better. Might go back some other time for checking out the regular Mallu stuff.

All of the above cost us a bit over Rs.250. Value-for-money as most Mallu restaurants go. (no we don’t consider Coconut Grove mallu on that parameter)

Kaayal, 1647/1 , 2nd Floor, Jeevan Bhima Nagar. Ph: 25205578