Bengaluru darshan in Chandigarh

After spending five months braving the chilly winter at home in Chandigarh, I returned to my karma bhoomi, Bengaluru. The first thing I did on my return was not to pay my respects at one of the local pubs that keep me company on weekends, but to eat at my neighbourhood Udupi restaurant.

Bengaluru's darshinis and Udupi restaurants are the Swiss knives of local eating. On the days when my cook decides to take off and I’m too lazy to cook, the neighbourhood Udupi restaurant provides me the comfort of homely food without burning a hole in my pocket or the guilt of piling up calories.

On busy afternoons, the darshini doubles up as the perfect spot for a reinvigorating cup of filter coffee and other snacks to fuel me through the rest of the day. And then there is breakfast, a complicated yet delectable affair at any darshini, with options ranging from idlis once described by Vir Sanghvi on Instagram as white, fluffy clouds of rice; the crispy, buttery goodness of the masala dosa; the deep-fried vadas; and the heady brew of a South Indian filter coffee.

The darshini is the perfect example of a local Quick Serve Restaurant (QSR). These restaurants boast of exemplary hygiene, lightning-fast preparations, and prices that see people from all walks of life enjoying the same food in a small enclosure that evokes a sense of community and belongingness. On the same table, one can find people from all religions and financial backgrounds huddling over their plates of food and glasses of coffee, unmindful of divides often created by politicians. 

The concept of darshinis in Bengaluru is believed to go back to 1983, with restaurants providing customers a darshan, or view, of the food being cooked in the open kitchens as a testimony of the quality of the food being cooked. The first such darshini was named quite literally and eponymously, Café Darshini.

Today, each neighbourhood has its own collection of darshinis and Udupi restaurants, and customers swear their unwavering loyalty to their favourite darshinis. It is no wonder, then, that I often bump into the same set of patrons at my own favourite Udupi restaurant, our meals made sweeter by the exchange of a smile.

On my recent visit back home to Chandigarh, I was surprised to find myself—a thorough Punjabi—craving a ghee podi idli, masala dosa, and a glass of authentic coffee just a week after I landed. My tenacity led me to discover a wonderful restaurant run by a first-generation Shetty gentleman that was able to whip up a delectable South Indian breakfast just the way I like it in Bengaluru.

In the five months that I spent in Chandigarh, this ended up being my most favoured meal, despite Chandigarh being the home of India’s best tandoori chicken and butter chicken. My staunchly non-vegetarian family was on the verge of disowning me before they tasted the dosa that I had so liked. That I was now disloyal to our family’s favourite butter chicken spot in favour of the masala dosa wasn’t taken very lightly, and I had a tough time proving that I enjoyed having my foot in both camps.