<p>What has a teetotaller to do with bars? The obvious answer to this would be an emphatic ‘’Nothing at all’’. </p>.<p>While I was in the government service in Bangalore in the 1990s, I stayed in a lodge at Palace Guttahalli for about seven years. It was common for me to return late from work to my place, sometimes well-past 10 pm. By that time, all restaurants would have downed their shutters in the neighbourhood; except, fortunately for me, a couple of good ‘bars and restaurants.’ Open well after 11 pm, they would come to my rescue. </p>.<p>As I had no other option, I would go to them to eat items that were not typical of a bar patron, such as soup, followed by fried rice and noodles labelled Chinese food, or the north Indian fare of rotis, kulchas, nans, and the various sabjis that accompanied them. And I signed off the meal with a drink—not what you are thinking, but a fruit juice or lassi.</p>.<p>Now, diners at bars are expected to have at least some designated ‘drink’ for which they are meant. I didn’t, so, what I got was second-class citizen treatment from the staff and sarcasm from fellow customers. The humiliation that a teetotaller is subjected to in a bar-cum-restaurant, is just indescribable. Indeed, I was a customer by sufferance.</p>.<p>I was perhaps a rare exception for a non-alcoholic customer at a bar-and-restaurant, but who would believe me if I said I went to the bar only to eat and drink fruit juice? There is a popular Kannada saying: <span class="italic">Eeachalu marada kelage kulitu majjige kudidante</span> (meaning even if you only drink buttermilk sitting under the wild date palm, people will believe you are drinking arrack).</p>.<p>This was about a quarter of a century ago. I am now retired and live in Mysuru. But my association with bars and restaurants refuse to die down. People who wish to see me, find it difficult to locate my house. There is a bar and restaurant close to my residence, and the mere mention of its name is enough for visitors to find me. Though a teetotaller myself, I would like to express my gratitude to its owner for helping my friends and relatives find my home.</p>.<p>The Karnataka state government’s recent decision to allow “regular” restaurants in Bengaluru to stay open until 1 am should be applauded by all, especially teetotallers.</p>.<p>I am still dependent on restaurants for my meals, but I scrupulously avoid visiting the ones that have bars attached. Now I am keen on preserving my Gandhian image!</p>
<p>What has a teetotaller to do with bars? The obvious answer to this would be an emphatic ‘’Nothing at all’’. </p>.<p>While I was in the government service in Bangalore in the 1990s, I stayed in a lodge at Palace Guttahalli for about seven years. It was common for me to return late from work to my place, sometimes well-past 10 pm. By that time, all restaurants would have downed their shutters in the neighbourhood; except, fortunately for me, a couple of good ‘bars and restaurants.’ Open well after 11 pm, they would come to my rescue. </p>.<p>As I had no other option, I would go to them to eat items that were not typical of a bar patron, such as soup, followed by fried rice and noodles labelled Chinese food, or the north Indian fare of rotis, kulchas, nans, and the various sabjis that accompanied them. And I signed off the meal with a drink—not what you are thinking, but a fruit juice or lassi.</p>.<p>Now, diners at bars are expected to have at least some designated ‘drink’ for which they are meant. I didn’t, so, what I got was second-class citizen treatment from the staff and sarcasm from fellow customers. The humiliation that a teetotaller is subjected to in a bar-cum-restaurant, is just indescribable. Indeed, I was a customer by sufferance.</p>.<p>I was perhaps a rare exception for a non-alcoholic customer at a bar-and-restaurant, but who would believe me if I said I went to the bar only to eat and drink fruit juice? There is a popular Kannada saying: <span class="italic">Eeachalu marada kelage kulitu majjige kudidante</span> (meaning even if you only drink buttermilk sitting under the wild date palm, people will believe you are drinking arrack).</p>.<p>This was about a quarter of a century ago. I am now retired and live in Mysuru. But my association with bars and restaurants refuse to die down. People who wish to see me, find it difficult to locate my house. There is a bar and restaurant close to my residence, and the mere mention of its name is enough for visitors to find me. Though a teetotaller myself, I would like to express my gratitude to its owner for helping my friends and relatives find my home.</p>.<p>The Karnataka state government’s recent decision to allow “regular” restaurants in Bengaluru to stay open until 1 am should be applauded by all, especially teetotallers.</p>.<p>I am still dependent on restaurants for my meals, but I scrupulously avoid visiting the ones that have bars attached. Now I am keen on preserving my Gandhian image!</p>