A Tale of Two Mangalores

The fishy smell from the bamboo baskets hit my nose at the edge of the railway platform. My friend said fishing is one of the leading businesses in Mangalore. It is a port city. I nodded, smiling at my childhood memories of Vizag Port and the morning fish smell wafting through the balconies of our home in Maharanipeta.

We were in the town of Golli Bajji for two days. That evening, we downed Ideals chocolate daddies and carrot halwa soaked in ice cream. Later, a literary stroll inside the Sapna book house. That night was reserved for a national meeting, and in a loo break, my eye caught a neon. It was an uptown place. I took a peek inside to see the nightlife in Mangalore. The place was a reflection of the affluence in that city. Rich spirits adorned the shelves, cocktails costing the earth spewed on the oaks and the chairs by people who made statements of fashion houses from across the globe.

The rain-soaked morning was lazy, but I didn't want to miss my morning walk. Hot piping tea was also on the mind.

The central railway station was a stone's throw from the hotel, and tea would be available somewhere around. Hardly a few strides, I saw a gathering around a shop from which I could see steam emanating from the boilers. Destination found! But what's this crowd for in the wee hours? On reaching closer and having a better look from my misty spectacles, I realized that most were not waiting for teas. Men and women were jostling to buy hot Pongal, idli, and dosa wrapped in leaves. I was amazed to see people rushing to work on a Sunday morning for their daily bread and buying a packed breakfast on their go. A stark reality of a difference from the sights I saw yesterday night at the posh hotel. Mangalore had two tales to tell.

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