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SUNDAY TIMES OF INDIA, BENGALURU


MARCH 20, 2016

SUNDAY BEST
Pics courtesy: Maharani Sethu Lakshmi Bayi Collection

Sandhya.Soman
@timesgroup.com

very evening, a stately old man in a spotless white veshti


would go past young
Mariannes house off Richmond Road. One day, she
couldnt contain her curiosity and called out to ask his
name. He paused in his perambulation to reply: Kerala
Varma. The girl ran back to
her father who told her that
their neighbours, the Varmas, in the sprawling bungalow with its gardens and retinue of servants, were royalty.
That was in the 1970s. Thirty years later, Marianne and
her mother walked up to the
gracious old bungalow on
Richmond Road for the first
time, to see if they could buy
a few of the antiques on sale
there. There was French porcelain, Venetian glass, and a
lot of Chinese Ming vases.
And fabulous chandeliers! We
stood there with our mouths
open. Of course, we couldnt
afford any of it and politely
walked out, laughs Marianne
De Nazareth, adjunct faculty
at St Josephs College, who
still lives next door.
Recently, she discovered
the history of her neighbours
the last queen of Keralas
Travancore kingdom and her
immediate family. The politics,
the palace intrigues, and the
dramatic rise and fall of the
charismatic regent queen Maharani Sethu Lakshmi Bayi
detailed in Manu Pillais book
The Ivory Throne: Chronicles
of The House of Travancore
made her head spin. I
couldnt believe these were the
same Varmas! It was an oh my
god moment, says Marianne.
Rukmini Varma, granddaughter of Sethu Lakshmi
Bayi, is slowly getting used to
similar reactions from those
who read the book. I lead a
reclusive life. But a few close
friends called up as nobody
knew this was the background
of our family, says Rukmini,
amused by attention but refusing to elaborate.
The surprise is mainly because Bengaluru society is
used to the affable and highly
sociable Varmas, especially
princess Lalitamba Bayi and
her husband Kerala Varma,
who left behind the palaces
and protocol in Thiruvananthapuram and relocated to the
city in 1949. It was a sensational thing to do. They were
the first in the family to move
out, says Rukmini. Nobody in
Thiruvananthapuram knew
such a plan was afoot. Father
was apprehensive and there
were four of us, all small children. But mother was brave,
recalls Rukmini, who was a
wide-eyed nine-year-old when
she came to the city and is now
in her 70s.
There were several reasons
why Lalitamba Bayi, known
in Bengaluru as Lalitha Varma, left her hometown, the
capital of the kingdom which
her mother ruled between 1924
and 1931 on behalf of her minor nephew Sri Chithira
Thirunal. She probably wanted to get away from the court
intrigues, says Manu, who
tracked down this branch of
the Travancore royals. Sethu
Lakshmi Bayis troubled relationship with her cousin, who
was also the mother of the
minor king, led to conspiracies, court cases, smear campaigns in the media, and apparently use of black magic
and assassination bids.
Lalitha was also never
comfortable with the pomp
and pageantry associated with
her station. She was a bit of
a rebel, and wanted to be just

The last queen of Keralas


Travancore royal house and her
family found a safe hometown
in the city in the 1950s, leaving
behind politics and palace
intrigues. Her descendants have
contributed to the art and
medical worlds, and helped set
up Nimhans in Bengaluru

ROYALS MADE GARDEN CITY

THEIR HOME

Chethan Shivakumar

PRINCESS DIARIES: (Top) No 8


in the early days and now,
(left) hemmed in by highrises; Maharani Sethu
Lakshmi Bayi (below) lived a
quiet life here; Princess
Lalitha (in sari) with friends
at the Bangalore Club; a
merry party at her house

another Mrs Varma, says


Manu. In her matrilineal family, husbands of princesses are
consorts with no equal status.
They walk behind at (formal)
processions, and have to follow
their wives in another vehicle
while travelling. Mother hated
it and wanted an ordinary life
where she could send her children to school, says Rukmini.
Moreover, there were many
restrictions. There was no
freedom of thought or expression. It was really a gilded
cage, says Rukmini.

You never know what


hidden treasures can
be unearthed at old
bookstores where
customers take
second place to all
those books

In comparison, Bengaluru
was a slice of heaven with its
agreeable weather and cosmopolitan denizens. In the 1950s,
it was a welcoming place and
had a large number of foreigners, says Pillai. They and the
rest of the elite gathered at
posh clubs to socialize.
Though Lalitha and Kerala
Varma didn't know anybody
here, the familys background
helped open doors, including
that of the Bangalore Club. No
8, a 200-year-old British-era
house on Richmond Road, was

procured from the family of


former Mysore Diwan Sir
Mirza Ismail. Streets were
clean, and there were beautiful flowering trees. It was like
a paradise, recalls Rukmini.
Though she came with a
host of servants, Lalitha took
it upon herself to learn household work and befriend people. I remember her optimistic presence. She wore her
hair short, had dogs with
Russian names, and loved
Russian literature, says Prateeti Punja Ballal about her

family friends. While the children happily took to their


school life at Baldwins next
door, the elder Varmas attended plays and performances, and threw parties. Once
I went shopping with mother
down Commercial Street, and
it looked as if every single
person who was there knew
her, says Rukmini.
Soon, her other sisters
also moved out. A few years
later, Sethu Lakshmi Bayi
and husband Rama Varma
also left behind their increas-

Finding first editions on the racks

Narayanan.Krishnaswami
@timesgroup.com

heres a line in Terry Pratchetts novel Guards Guards


which goes something like
this: A good bookshop is
just a genteel Black Hole that knows
how to read. It also has the first references to L-Space, the dimension
caused by the warping of reality by
any good book depository. Step into
Blossoms and you know its true no
equations linking knowledge to power and power to mass and gravity required. Reality warps inside.
At some level, writing about Blossom Book House seems redundant. If
you like books, youve already been
here. And you know that its a place
where books are more important than
customers. And if you are a book
lover, you know that is
how it should be.
T h e r e a r e, o f
course, the usual bestsellers. The Amishes and Chetan
Bhagats, the Rowlings and the
Gaimans, the Tina Feys and the Amy
Schumers and all the others.
But those books arent what make
Blossoms Blossoms.

ingly alienated existence in


Thiruvananthapuram and
set up house next to their
daughter. They adapted well
and there were no hurdles to
my parents way of life, says
Rukmini. Unlike her daughter, the former queen led a
quiet life, reading and tending to her rose garden. She
loved gardens and would
walk around in the morning
with a pink silk umbrella,
inspecting each rose,
smiles Rukmini.
Initially, the
g randparents
were horrified to
see the children
cross the road to
go to school.
Those fears
soon vanished,
and the children
went on to pursue
various vocations.
By the time royalty
was well and truly abolished in India, the pensions
stopped, and the land ceiling
act imposed in the 1970s, the
family had moved on.
They never talked about
the problems they had
though we knew life wasnt
easy earlier, says Prateeti.
The elders didnt prevent two
of the great-grandchildren
from marrying outside the
community, or stop them
from pursuing careers in
medicine, sports and science.
Rukmini, an accomplished
dancer-painter, has exhibited
her works in India and
abroad. Her sister Uma had
her own boutique in the city.
There are engineers, writers,
artists and doctors in the
family, with Dr R Marthanda
Varma being the founderdirector of Nimhans.
Rukminis son Jay Varma,
who is pursuing advanced art
studies in the US, remembers
the queen as a grand old
lady who was mostly confined to her room. She was
warm and knew most things
under the sun. As a child I
knew that she was someone
special as everybody listened
to her, and deferred to her,
says Jay. Towards the end of
her life, she distributed most
of her possessions, he says.
After her death in 1985, a
portion of her house was
turned into a housing society.
It is ironic that the builder
chose to call it Regency Place,
says Manu.
To the younger generation, the royal tag is a
strange one. I used to think
it was a bad thing, says Jay,
who was relentlessly teased
as prince in school. A visit
to Thiruvananthapuram is
bewildering because of the
ceremonial deference that
his Kerala cousins, the descendants of the last king,
take for granted. Jay, who
considers himself a typical
Bengalurean and at one
point was partner in a pub
and a magazine, sees no
point in holding on to the
past. The 54-year-old shrugs
off the fact that he had to
sell his penthouse at Regency Place.
He is proud of his ancestors such as the composerking Swathi Thirunal, the
famous Attingal queens and
the illustrious Raja Ravi
Varma. But past is past. My
great-grandmother came out
out of the palace and became
a progressive person. For all
practical purposes, royalty
is irrelevant, he says.
Home remains Bengaluru
for the family, which will have
a reunion at No 8 during Kerala Varmas upcoming 100th
birthday celebrations. The
family is going to come from
wherever they are all over the
world, says Rukmini.

FINE PRINT: (Left) There are a host of


bookshops that yield a goldmine of
rare books if one cares to search;
(top) Mayi Gowda of Blossoms

Its the sight of a mother who


warned her child Two books, no
more staggering out with what
looks like a dozen after an hour of
intensive shopping.
Its all the things that make up
the entries in the
Overheard at Blossoms Tumblr. (Especially a remark by
a fellow unfortunate who said Oh
man I feel like a blonde here, at being caught in an animated discussion on Murakami).
Yes, the Kindle is a wonderful
thing. You can carry a librarys

CITY FRAMES

worth of books in it or on your iPad.


But shopping online just cant compare to poking around the shelves
and finding, say Volume 4 trade paperback of Mac Raboys Flash Gordon comics, lying there. And suddenly theres a whole new branch
of books to look forward to the
Alex Raymond comics and who
knows, even the comics that Raymond created of Dashiell Hammetts
secret agent X-9, comics that were
later written by Leslie Charteris.
There are days when you climb up
beyond the first floor into that intermediate area that forms the chil-

drens section and find, along with the


Percy Jacksons and the Artemis
Fowls, Willard Prices stories of Hal
and Roger Hunt or Richmal Cromptons William books. You may find
Frank Richards Billy Bunter school
stories. And if you are lucky, you may
even find Anthony Buckeridges Jennings books.
And thats the power of a good
book shop. It sends you through
time. Youre no longer an adult.
Youre back to your school days,
back in your uniform, on an equal
footing with the kid next to you,
reading the books you read so long
ago, smiling at all the familiar situations Bunters postal order, the

Five Find Outers at the Peterswood


dairy with lemonade and macaroons
while Buster the Scottie circles Mr
Goons ankles or Hal and Roger Hunt
finding albino pythons and twoheaded snakes in the African jungle.
Its not just kids books, of course.
Browsing the stacks at the back of
the first floor, youll find hidden
treasures literally hidden. A first
edition of Ian Flemings Goldfinger,
tucked away behind Chekovs plays.
A copy of Lampedusas Leopard
lurking among Georgette Heyers
romances. You wonder how many
you could find if you looked long
enough and hard enough.
Sometime last year, if youd
walked in as usual, you may have noticed an old fat hardcover, bound in
plain blue. If you opened it, you would
have seen these words The Strand
Magazine, An Illustrated Monthly,
Vol X, July to December, 1985. Edited by Geo Newnes. The first
story in the magazine collection
was by one A Conan Doyle. Of
course, you can wait for another
copy to become available, but the
odds are rather against it.
And thats the important thing.
You can go there looking for a specific book, buy it and get out. Or, if
you can, you just linger. Start anywhere, go anywhere. And you
never know what you may find.
(In this column, residents
of the city record their impressions
of Bengaluru)

OLD IS COOL

THIS SUMMER
Global warming might be eating into the
citys uber cool reputation but trust the old
Bengalureans to know how to beat the heat.
Much before the advent of ACs, coolers
and molecular gastronomy mojitos,
they relied on local delicacies to
quench thirst. There is no
dearth of patrons for outlets
that sell homemade ice
creams, native gulkand,
kulfis, and juices of
cucumber and good ol
Bangalore Blue grapes at
affordable rates. Meet a few
who have withstood cafs that
churn out pricey smoothies and shakes
BOMBAY CHOWPATTY KULFI, FRASER TOWN

n an unusually hot day, the bright board screaming Bombay


Chowpatty Kulfi does a good job of tempting you to try the kulfi.
It started in 2000 when local resident Sayed Mumtaz Ahmed decided
to start a shop that served Mumbais popular Chowpatty kulfi on the
busy Mosque Street. Sixteen years later, his 100% vegetarian kulfis
are a favourite with anyone who loves the delicacy. Everything is
made with natural ingredients. We use real fruits, and dont add
preservatives, says Sayed Khaled, Ahmeds brother and store
manager. Malai kulfi at `60 is a perennial hit but fruit kulfis like
guava, sitaphal, mango, chickoo and strawberry with real fruit
pieces are the real heroes. The guava kulfi is so close in taste to the
fruit that you find yourself missing that dab of chilli and salt. Kulfis
start at `35 and Honey Dry Fruit at `160 is the priciest on the menu.
Syed Asif; TOI

SRI BHAGYALAKSHMI BUTTER AND GULKAND


STORE, MALLESWARAM

ou know a place is iconic when it is the landmark people use to


give directions. Located on Sampige Road, Sri Bhagyalakshmi
Butter and Gulkand store has grown into being one such Bengalurean
mainstay, since founder Thiruvengadam started it in the early 1950s.
It is more than 60 years old and our focus is on gulkand. Today we
are possibly the only
store that manufactures
and sells it, says Alagiri
Swamy, Thiruvengadams
son and owner. Quality is
key when it comes to this
delicious preserve made
out of rose petals. Roses
are from Hoskote but
when there is a shortage,
we get them from
Rajasthan, says Swami
whose only challenge is scarcity of roses when rains fail. With
summer leading to cases of sun stroke and mouth ulcers, the demand
for gulkand will rise. It has a cooling property, says Swami. While
the basic butter gulkand and bun butter gulkand remain popular, the
store is experimenting with sugar-free varieties too. Butter gulkand
costs `20 and dry fruit gulkand with ice cream is the priciest at `40.

HOPCOMS, CUBBON PARK

or most Bengalureans growing up in the 80s, glass bottles filled


with grape juice is a fond memory. Priced at 75p, it was extremely
affordable. The price may have risen to `15 per bottle, but the
popularity of the indigenous Bangalore blue grape juice hasnt
waned. At its plant, the society crushes the fruits for pulp, which is
boiled at 90 degreeC and kept in a cold storage unit in 50-litre cans,
ensuring year-round availability. While the juice is available across
all HOPCOMS stores in the city, the one that is idyllic is the open stall
inside Cubbon Park. Here they stock up on grape and mango juice
during the summer. The fans include walkers and motorists, who
stop by to quench their thirst. Business is brisk with stock clearing
out before the end of the day.

AMRITH ICE CREAMS, MALLESWARAM

lease dont bargain. Please tender exact change. Animals will not
be permitted beyond this point. No admission without
permission. Dont be put off by these curt posters at Amrith Ice
Creams. Only one of
them should matter:
We will be open on
Tuesdays in summers.
With demand for its
homemade ice creams
peaking with patrons
driving down from JP
Nagar and Jayanagar,
there is little else
proprietor Ramapriyam
can do except to forgo
the weekly holiday.
Started by the late MN Sarathy, the unassuming exteriors belie the
fact that about 50-60 litres of ice cream is churned out daily by
machines. The shop is run by his son, Ramapriyam, who says
that everything has remained the same since Amrith
opened in 1993. Flavours like Caribou coffee, honey
dew and manoranjini keep the crowds coming in. Ice
creams start at `20; Amrit special at `70 is the costliest.

ALIBABA CAFE, FRASER TOWN

t is a nondescript place and the carved old teak


frame from Bhatkal looks incongruous inside. At
this popular eatery, which came up in 2000, you get
Persian, Arabic and Bhatkali cuisine. The summer
special here is the Bhatkali speciality called tausha
sherbet. A simple concoction of grated cucumber in
its own waters along with a little sugar, the sherbet is
a meal by itself. One could also go for doogh, a
Persian summer drink made with yoghurt, soda and
seasoned with mint. A glass of both drinks is priced at
`55 each.

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