With appetizing dietary restrictions like low carb, low fat, low salt, and no spice, I was practically eating available vegetables, fruits, nuts, and grass—just joking. I meant a bland diet. I decided to break this and indulge in whatever was served for breakfast and lunch. No exaggeration—many, if not all, South Indian cuisines, and more so sweets, are so tasty and unique. The much awaited ‘kaasi halwa,’ made from white pumpkin, was the first dish. Hmm. Wow. Then came the usual breakfast items like pongal, idly, and the most tempting but most oily vadai. I had my fill. Are my cholesterol and sugar levels going to increase in one day and cause damage? An occasional transgression was fine. For lunch, I did avoid all curries and enjoyed the ‘curd pachadi,’ ‘fruit pachadi,’ ‘aviyal,’ etc., but yielded to the palate-tickling and endearing ‘vadai’ again.

Bangalore, which had the reputation of having a friendly climate, was Chennai-hot. Generally, the first birthday celebration ceremony is fairly short. The beauty of South Indian functions is that the moment you enter, positive vibrations envelop you and take you to a euphoric mental space. The sounds, din, cross-talks, and the overriding chanting of ‘mantras’ boom into a relaxed hyperactivity.

At any function I attend, I generally sit in one place and observe the ladies moving hither and thither as if they are late in catching an express train, moving like ants. One will bring a plate, another will bring flowers, someone else will give instructions, one might talk to the ‘sastrigal’ as he keeps chanting, and one will just act as a post office conveying something to somebody.

Many, especially those not endowed with sharp memory, will be playing the ‘who is this lady? Whose husband is that?’ game. Then somebody mutually known has to be fished out of the crowd to have the anxiety over the ‘who’ question resolved satisfactorily.

There will be a shouting match too. Someone shouting, "Bring this," and another in a still higher decibel and powerful voice demanding ‘something else.’ You can be certain that after a function, the throat will revolt at its abuse and misuse.

I keep my throat safe. Anyway, with my uncooperative eyes, my movements are restricted even more. Even to answer the unavoidable nature’s call, like a lost child, I will be searching for any gullible close relative who can be persuaded into helping me. My wife, the permanent safe keeper of my body, mind, and soul, would be busy talking to forgotten friends and relatives.

Continued in 218. Function, Fun, Frolic and Frustration Too - Part 6