Ramadhan, the sacred month, has arrived!

“Why must you fast this year? You’re fully aware of your cancer,” my mother exclaimed, her anxiety exacerbated by my father’s decision to fast in his final years. To me, it was routine that my father observed fasting during the sacred month of Ramadhan, despite being a devoted Hindu who ensured our family visited the Lord Shiva temple every Saturday. Our ritual involved lighting a lamp beneath a sacred peepal tree and circumambulating it, the purpose of which remained a mystery. However, we carried out these practices naturally, without hesitation. During my childhood, I once asked him why he did fasting each year despite not being a Muslim. In his serene demeanor, he would calmly respond that it was his modest contribution to a nation that facilitated his prosperity. I believe it was also his way of demonstrating to his children that spirituality transcends boundaries, whether within a temple, mosque, or church.

Growing up in Oman, located in the Arabian Peninsula, opened my eyes to the challenges faced by minority groups in predominantly Muslim societies. The tolerance exhibited by the majority played a crucial role in determining the well-being of the minority. Although there were some restrictions, they were comparatively lenient in contrast to other Gulf nations. It was evident that the authorities aimed for the Indian communities to flourish, recognizing their potential as a workforce for the country’s development. Certain things were peculiar to Oman, making it unique compared to other Gulf countries. One notable aspect is its significant Hindu population, comprising nearly 5.5% of the total population. This presence is rooted in Muscat’s historical attraction for Hindu merchants, engaged in diverse trades such as pearls and grains, dating back centuries. The geographical location of Oman on the peninsula likely played a significant role in their migration from India. The introduction of Hinduism to Oman can be traced to 1507 when Kutchi-speaking Hindus from the Kutch region in India settled in Muscat, the country’s capital.

A map delineating Oman, showcasing its capital, Muscat, along with its national borders, showing that a major portion of its terrain is uninhabitable, dominated by expansive deserts.

How did this diverse population benefit me during childhood? There were two occasions each year when my father would bring sweets home from his colleagues: Eid and Diwali. This ensured that my childhood cravings were fulfilled, fostering a sense of religious harmony even as it indulged my sweet tooth. Other experiences also shaped my understanding of religion, mostly thanks to my father. One memory stands out: encountering an elderly man who greeted us at the entrance of the Shiva temple. He stood guard at the temple and always greeted us with his customary ‘As-salamu alaykum’ to which we joyfully responded. Each time we visited, my father encouraged me to offer some money to the man. I often questioned why my father didn’t directly give him, but I realized this was his way of reinforcing in me the idea that we are all connected and should support each other.

Once again, Ramadan has arrived, and this time I find myself in India. The pervasive religious tensions within the country frustrate me to no end. I yearn to witness my homeland as a place where people of all faiths, castes, and creeds can coexist peacefully. As a Malayali, I’ve been fortunate to experience a predominantly secular environment thus far. Whether it’s a bus, auto-rickshaw, or any other form of public transportation, it has been customary to witness scenes akin to the one depicted below throughout the state.

What impact does this have on a 10-year-old boarding the bus? Much like the image portrays, it emphasizes that one is to embrace each other.

At this moment, I’d like to reference Carl Sagan’s poignant reflection from his celebrated work “Pale Blue Dot,” where he eloquently portrays Earth as a Pale Blue Dot and states: “But for us, the dot is different. Consider again that dot.The aggregate of our joy and suffering, thousands of confident religions, ideologies, and economic doctrines, every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilization, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every mother and father, hopeful child, inventor and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every “superstar,” every “supreme leader,” every saint and sinner in the history of our species lived there – on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam.

Today, my longing isn’t for the sweets that I received during the Holy month, but rather to witness my fellow human beings living in harmony. I realize it may seem like a childish dream, but isn’t that the essence of life in the end? To seek paradise in the world we inhabit.

رمضان كريم

Gadibadi at Udupi

Entering a temple city is a whole other experience. You half expect the entire place to be saffronized, and as you walk along the streets, it’s evident that it’s had an effect on the locals.

Being on the seaside, you might worry that the scent of fish could send vegetarians running for the hills. However, that was not the situation! The city is so cleverly designed that the temple and its neighboring communities are strategically placed several kilometers away from the shores. It’s as if the planners knew they had to keep the peace between the fish lovers and the veggie enthusiasts!

People at Udupi on Makara Sankranti

My visit to this coastal Karnataka town was totally unplanned. I had just a few hours to spare before my bus to Bangalore arrived, so I thought I’d take a walk down memory lane. This place has always been surrounded by stories, but my own memories of it have started to fade. It’s been almost two decades since I last tagged along on my mom’s temple-hopping trips. This time, though, I was determined to soak in the essence of Udupi, a place known for its unique flavors.

As I strolled through the winding streets, I couldn’t help but notice the old-school vibes all around. The houses had that weathered look, with a touch of moss here and there, keeping things nice and cool. And then I spotted this quaint little sweet shop called Udupi Mithai. I decided to try out their Banana Halwa. And let me tell you, it was perfect! It was just the right amount of sweetness, and the banana flavor was relishing. Oh, and they did put up a signboard that all their ice cream was made from A2 milk. It was a tad bit weird because if they wanted to prove authenticity, it’s scientifically proven that A2 milk has no added benefits apart from making consumers pay a higher price. But it’s all part of the charm, I guess!

As I promised Amma, my first stop had to be the Udupi Sree Krishna Temple. Legend has it that a low-caste devotee named Kanakadasa was denied entry into the mutt because of his social status. In protest, he began singing, and the idol, which faced east, turned itself westward, broke the wall, and revealed itself to him. The pontiff at the time, Vadiraja Swamy, decided to build a window at the spot where the wall had broken, and to this day, all devotees can catch a glimpse of the Lord through it.

I had no clue about this folklore until I googled it. It was pretty weird for me to step into this temple because it didn’t have that grand temple vibe – it felt more like an old dilapidated house. Each step was into a room filled with paintings of the various storylines of Lord Krishna’s existence. It lacked the usual gateways and paths that were part of temples created in medieval times. Apart from that I was so glad I didn’t have to take my shirt off exposing my ‘maha’ belly; I’ve always hated being half-exposed around strangers. I was so confused about the whereabouts of the main Idol, but I figured following the frenzied crowd would lead me to it. Finally, I saw everyone peering through a window, and wow, what a sight! The idol was shining in all its glory, adorned with precious stones. It was sparkling even in the darkness. It was a truly magnificent sight.

Mitra Samaj – An eatery established in the 20th century

I couldn’t leave my next destination up to chance, so I let Google make the call. Not my preferred method, but hey, sometimes you’ve just got to deal with it(Especially when you are running out of time). I ended up at the famous Mithra Samaj, where I indulged in some delicious Goli Baje and Mangalore Buns. Let me tell you, those Goli Bajjis were absolute flavor bombs – spicy and spongy, hitting all the right notes. And don’t even get me started on the Mangalore Buns; they were like fluffy clouds of perfection. Usually, I’m not a fan of the Mangalore Buns in Bangalore – they’re often as fluffy as a brick. But Mithra Samaj? They’ve got it down to a science. And to cap it all off, I washed it down with some perfectly made Badam milk. It was a feast fit for the gods, and my taste buds were singing their praises.

Diana Hotel – The origin story for Gadbad will marvel you

Next, I decided to catch a spot that wouldn’t be packed – Diana hotel. I mean, who could not visit the renowned place for inventing Gadbad. So, as the story goes, Mohandas Pai, the owner of Diana Hotel, was in a fix when a bunch of students urgently needed ice cream and they were running out of stock. And guess what? He had this brilliant idea to mix whatever ice cream flavors were left with some nuts, syrup, and jelly. And since everything was done Gadibadi (meaning hurry in the local Kannada language) he decided to name his delicacy as Gadbad.Voila! With that, we have the famous Gadbad in all its glory.

The route to Diana Hotel is well-known to most rickshaw riders. Due to my uncertainty, I looked up a nearby landmark on Google Maps – Bhujanga Park and instructed the rickshaw driver to drop me there. The refreshing breeze and clean air were a delightful welcome after the long journey I had before arriving in Udupi. Apart from that, it was truly heartwarming to witness a group of senior citizens welcoming each other with warm smiles. It seemed like this was their cherished weekend tradition, judging by the heartfelt greetings exchanged. As the sun dipped below the horizon, I felt it was the perfect moment to savor my Gadbad.

I was greeted warmly by the waitstaff, and even before they handed me the menu, I knew I had to order the Gadbad. Along with the Gadbad, I chose a veg cutlet, and it was absolutely delightful. The perfect combination of crispy texture, infused with just the right amount of curry leaves, lentils, potato, and beetroot. It wasn’t spicy at all. When the Gadbad was served, it brought me sheer delight. With each spoonful, the layers revealed an explosion of flavors and the crunch of the nuts was simply knockout.

Thimmappa Fish Hotel – A feast for the seafood lover

A lot has been discussed online about this little shack that supposedly serves the most amazing seafood in Udupi. What began 50 years ago as a humble joint run by Thimmappa and his wife, dishing out a simple meal of fish fry and rice, has now turned into the talk of the town. I could tell the waiter was buttering me up, probably because he thought I was a fish out of water in his restaurant. He strongly recommended trying the Pomphret with the meal, and boy was he right! It was like the best fish fry I’ve ever had, second only to my mom’s recipe. The flavors exploded in my mouth, and I found myself savoring every single bite. I’d happily make a comeback to this place for that mouth-watering delight. Alas, it was time to bid farewell to my culinary escapades in Udupi and head back to Bangalore. But mark my words, I’d return to Udupi in a heartbeat for all the food the city promises!