Dhond
Huh?
That is about the right response.
An ex-Professor of mine took the Karnataka Express* down to Bangalore. Family in tow. The sinuously desultory nature of mid-afternoon train crawls in India had forced them into siesta. But, they were rudely awakened by an ear-shattering clamour. A sound reminiscent of marching Roman legions as their breastplates thundered over Gaul. Rather galling. Or, of hundreds of pots and pans.
It was hundreds of pots and pans. Being withdrawn by hundreds of fellow travellers. The bemused educationist enquired about the nature of this epidemic off of a neighbouring Armyman who was hurriedly pulling out, hush - not a revolver, but a pot. He was answered, tersely,
"Dhond".
This was not on. No marks are ever awarded for incomplete explanations. Drawing on years of examining, the Professor homed in on the weakest link in Armyman's explanation:
"But, what is a Dhond."
Such was the power of that question, that silence fell over the coach. Pots froze, pans blushed.
"Dhond is the name of the next station."
"But, why the pots? And the pans?"
"Oh, don't you know? Dhond has the best Chicken Biryani! Anywhere!"
The famed teacher panicked.
"Really. But, we don't have pots and pans. What will we do!"
"Then the only option for you is to run like hell, and get to the Biryani-slinger before he runs out of all his take-away boxes."
The lecturer relaxed. Years of running had finally come to his aid. All his questions regarding the point of it all when his lungs burst and his legs retired were answered by four simple words, "The Chicken Biryani of Dhond".
So sprint he did. To win. And to haul back, proudly, to an admiring family the fruit, or rather the chicken, of his toils.
---
That O Voracious and Eclectic Reader is the discovery of Dhond. So, the next time you shoot of down to South India, pour over your travel itinerary, burn that midnight oil, but make sure you pass through Dhond. Also, pack your pots and pans. If not, train for short, sharp sprints. Now.
*A train connecting the civility of Bangalore to the sanity of Delhi. Or, something.
posted by i at 5:43 AM
10 Comments:
Dhond or Daund? It might be Dhond. Where on earth is it? Last I heard, best chicken biryani was in Lucknow.
Well, you need to take flight and widen your horizons. Do you know any passers-by who start looking for pots and pans when they are within smelling distance of Lucknow? I don't.
I once took a piss in Lucnow.
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
had to (dust)bin your comment Manish, if only because the second sentence of your (perhaps justifiably) angry retort did not do justice either to you as a person, or to the famed Lucknawi tahzeeb of which you are such an undeniable part.
God, I sound sanctimonious up there. But, a deleted comment, like baldness, cannot be restored.
Apologies all around, and are on the house.
Dr Ishan, this a supression of free, harmless speech :-) Prof at work?
Well, out of the two sentences that you wrote, one left a bad taste in the mouth (more that just figuratively).
I did try that once... but its hoopla or may be a publicity stunt... nothing beats Lucknowi biryani at least for me...
Ah, but you are a biased observer, aren't you?
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