WHISTLE

Gopal was a son of a farmer in the farmlands of native Mangalore in Karnataka.

Agriculture was in his blood as he was born in the land of farming. 

Fourth in line of six kids his parents did not go out of their way to overtly express emotions of love. 

They loved all their kids equally but were so busy fending to feed these mouths that life just moved at a fast pace for all of them

Speaking Kannada and Tulu was sufficient to get along in the village.

Schooling in the local hay thatched clay walled structures was bare minimum.

As Gopal reached 14 years of physical age but the mind of an adult he realised that he had to uplift his family from the stature that they were stuck in. 

He had three sisters one older and two younger and he knew just the burden organising their wedding and the dowries would break his fathers back and destroy his family.

It was 1970 -- Dowry was tradition and it had to be done.

His father worked very hard in the fields and with all the stress he had never let his kids realise what levels of stress traversed in his mind.

He had a small steel whistle which attached to a strap always hung from his neck.

He kept a couple of them handy.

It was like a metal whistle used by coaches and referees in the bygone days.

This whistle had two uses for his father.

He used it by blowing on it and by creating the shrill whistle to shoo away the birds from the fields.

His second use was personal.

When he was tense or angry, even when there were no birds, he would go out into the field and blow on his whistle.

This gave him some inner relief and helped to vent out his anxiety, anger and frustration.

Once he cooled down after the whistling experience he would return to his normal self.

It was a transformation tool.

It was like the pressure release whistle of a pressure cooker.

As his fathers whistling got more frequent and often Gopal realised he had to contribute his share to lessen his father's plight.

He had to migrate to Bombay.

Carrying a small tin metal box suitcase with just one change of spare clothes he left one early morning for Udipi where the buses boarded on their long haul journey to Bombay.

In the suitcase was another essential remembrance of his hardworking honest father -- his spare steel whistle.

Having the basic fare and some extra change for food he managed to get onto one of the private busses on their 36 hours bumpety stop-start journey to Bombay.

The only languages he spoke were Kannada and Tulu but intuition told him that necessity would be a mother of survival.

Arriving in Bombay and getting off at the Dadar stop, hungry and aching at the bones due to the Rocky Road ride, he was in a way thrilled that he had finally reached his Land of Gold.

He could not speak the language of the land.

Managing to befriend a Kannada speaking elderly gentlemen on the journey 

he had got an address of a small businessman who operated in Matunga.

Buying cheap banana and roasted channa on the way to feed his pangs of hunger he plodded along towards his messiah. Thirst would be quenched on the roadside taps that indicated availability of water by their constant leaking drips.

Metal suitcase in hand he reached Thimmaya’s address.

It was a small roadside stall which provided tea coffee and some hot snacks for sale.

Agreeing to work in the stall in exchange for shelter Gopal started his life in this metropole.

Being darker in hue he was nicknamed ’Kalia’ and ’Madrasi’ by many.

Lack of their geography failed to make them realise the difference between the southern states.

Many a times because of his lack of local lingo, he was teased to serving water in the eatery with shouts of ’Andu Gundu -- Thanda Pani’ by the local bullies.

He took all of this laughingly.

It was a hard life but he was unperturbed.

He had his goal and his target firmly in front of him.

Thimmaya’s business flourished slowly due to Gopal’s contribution as well and they slowly extended their business by increasing the menu and adding a couple of wooden ’bakda’s’ (chairs and tables) to serve the clientele.

Gopals started earning from this addition of profits. 

Not happy with just working Gopal was determined to study as well.

He had quickly caught on to the local lingo and by conversing with the customers while working he has increased his Hindi vocabulary.

A local social service gentleman had started a night school for working students.

Enrolling for this he took it as a challenge that he should complete his matriculation at the least.

He wanted to acquire the 3R’s -- reading (w)riting and (a)rithmetic.

In those days SSC was termed PUC and these exams were taken in year eleven as opposed to the nowadays year ten.

Studying under the roadside lamps in their flickering glow he focused on the road ahead. Nights used to be chilly but he bore it all.

It was not easy as his body also ached after a hard days toil at the food stall.

Many times a shrill whistle would shriek in the middle of the street indicating that  Gopal was venting his stress.

Yes -- he still carried his father's whistle and used it as his stress buster. 

A couple of years passed and Thimmaya and Gopal managed to negotiate a deal with the local Parsi Bawa Mr Pestonji.

Pestonji had a family passed down Irani Cafe but was not doing great business.

His flaying health also did not permit him to concentrate on business.

So when Thimmaya and Gopal approached him with an offer he accepted.

Gopal’s aura had wooed him.

They agreed to rent out the place and convert it into an Udipi Restaurant naming it ”UDIPI ANAND BHAVAN”

Gopal took up the helm of managing the day to day business and took on the routine of providing employment and support to many of his villagers who had landed in Bombay in circumstances similar to his.

He had also managed to bring both his brothers to Bombay and they were helping him in the restaurant.

This 50 seater clean vegetarian eatery became a place famous for serving good cheap tasty food in very hygienic conditions.

The menu played around traditional South Indian fayre of Idli, Wada, sambhar, chutney , Sheera, Upuma etc

It also had a wide selection of dosa's to include - Uttaappam, Sada Dosa, Masala Dosa, Rawa(with or with potato masala)

All cooked with pure ghee or butter.

Not to miss out, local delicacies of Usal, Missal, Poha and Batata wada were included along with comfort foods like Potato Chips, Samosa, Kachori and Sandwiches.

The drinks menu was elaborate with tea, coffee - filter and instant,hot chocolate and masala milk.

Bottled cold drinks were ice chilled and the variety of ice cream, fresh juices, milk shakes and Faloodas attracted families with children into it's premises.

Constant wisps of Agarbatti, Dhup and Tortise mosquito coils took care of the Gods, flies and mosquitos respectively.

As soon as you sat down small boys with round steel trays served chilled drinking water in steel glasses on the table.

There was an army of clearing staff with clean rags and trays  who would clear away used tableware in a jiffy followed up by a wipe of the sunmica table tops.

The uniformed waiters providing crisp fast smiling services buzzed around adding to the activity.

One corner which housed the galla (cash counter) had garlanded photo’s of Gods and Goddesses.

Shirdi Sai Baba and Ganeshpuri Nityanand Swami were also framed and decked here with fresh flowers.

A huge fresh marigold flower and leaf threaded arrangement adorned the entrance along with a chain of lemon chilli and charcoal to wade off evil eyes. This was a grand welcome.

Goddess Laxmi was generous, business prospered and soon Gopal took over the business from the ageing Thimmaya in a very generous split.

He was evergrateful to his benefactor of over the years.

Along with the good news of his flourishing business came the good news of him being awarded his PUC 

He had passed his exams with flying colours.

Back in Mangalore in the fields, Gopal organised for lots of scarecrows to be put up to shoo away the birds. The birds did not need to be whistled away by his father.

He also regularly managed to send money back home to his father and started targeting to get his sisters married.

Simultaneously his father anxiety, anger and frustration had disappeared.

Suddenly the villagers noticed the absence of the daily shrill sounds of Gopal’s fathers whistle. This was replaced by laughter.

Over the years in a corner of a heavy wooden box, the metallic whistles lay gathering rust.

Prosperity and happiness had come in Gopal’s household.

By God’s grace, Gopal’s dedication and hard work they did not need to be whistled on any more.