The Indian Canteen Review: Karnataka High Court

The clock has just struck one and the lunch break cannot come any sooner. Evident from the grumbling stomachs that can be heard in the silent courtroom, the anticipation for Karnataka-style oota is tangible. But its not all grumbling stomachs, lunch time can also be marked by the pre-meal siesta. One can observe a junior lawyer indulging in a different kind of bench-hunting, hopping from one court room to another in his quest to find the most soporific proceedings. For a brief moment, the arguments reach fever pitch and our friend is indignant at being awoken from his beauty sleep..The judge’s interest is also waning; clearly this is not a particularly good time to make a case-winning argument. The arguing counsel has himself given up, reiterating the same points over and over again, his mind perhaps drifing to what type of bath he will soon be tucking into. As soon as the 1:30 pm mark is crossed, lawyers and litigants from every single courtroom rush out, some of them even forgetting to wait for the judge to leave..The Karnataka High Court has two canteens – the old one within the main court building and the new one – New Shanti Sagar. Previously, it was one of the only high courts to have an imaginatively titled ‘Food Court’, run by the popular Vasudev Adiga group. However, a spat between the contractor and the Bangalore Advocates Association meant that the food court, which was open to the general public, met with a premature demise..As I enter the new canteen, I can clearly see what all the rush was about. It is nearly impossible to get a place to stand, let alone a seat in the sea of black and white. The canteen serves the usual fare one could expect in a typical Bangalore darshini – idli, vada, pongal, dosa and its cousins, and the Karnataka special, bisi bele bath. All the food is mildly spiced and low on oil, perhaps on the recommendation of health-conscious lawyers? The sambhar, with its signature saffron colour, resembles something one would serve at a psychedelic Sangh party. In fact, one Sadhu is rumoured to have decreed that all South Indian housewives must produce four litres of the stuff every day..The star of the show is the Molaga Bajji (Chilli Pepper Fritters) – six inches of deep-fried, oily, spicy decadence, served with a fairly bland coconut chutney. Wait. That sounded wrong. But be warned, the Bajjis, as well as the Vadas are not to be consumed when cold, to do so would be a great disservice to them. However, given the crowd at lunch time, it is usually difficult to get your hands on a fresh plate of the artery-clogging delights..Lunch time also happens to be best time to witness lawyers in their true state. One senior can be seen berating his junior for getting the holy sambhar all over his briefs. Another lawyer has his briefs in a tangle over a judge that refused to buy his argument. He eloquently vents, “Have you seen that one naansense fellow? He cannot able to jedge praaperly.”.In these parts, no meal is complete without a glass of steaming hot filter coffee. And the kaapi here is as sublime as it is cheap, the “mini” version coming for as little as 6 rupees. Strong enough to revive the dead, it is certainly not a beverage for the faint-hearted. Sure enough, our over worked junior lawyer can be seen at the counter, downing shot after shot of the drink..With the lack of options within walking distance of the High Court, the new canteen certainly seems to be the best choice for lawyers here. And a highly economical one as well. An above average South Indian lunch (including coffee) costs less than fifty rupees..Food – 3 out of 5.Comfort – 2.5 out of 5.VFM – 4 out of 5