Ellarigoo Olledagli: Chutney Sambar and a Quiet Prayer - Written with GrokAI

The other day, weekend crowds were at their peak, and buses to Shivamogga were running scarce. Passengers? Way too many. The moment one bus filled up and pulled away, another wave would swarm the platform—always more than the next one could carry. Classic chaos.

I finally squeezed onto one. My official mission: a promotion exam. The honest truth: I wasn’t prepared at all. Zero chance I’d top it—my destiny was to tank it spectacularly. (Top the exam, tank the exam—say it out loud; the rhyme almost makes failure poetic.)

But really, the exam was just a decoy. My actual goal was to watch *The Villain* in theaters—a triple dhamaka of Shivarajkumar, Sudeep, and Prem’s direction. Pure fireworks.

So there I was in the exam hall, scribbling half-heartedly while humming “Endu Ninna Noduve” under my breath, daydreaming about the movie. Exam tanked (as predicted), we zipped in an auto to the theater, and honestly? It was a fantastic experience. Two days later, the internet was roasting it Morbius-style. I scrolled through the memes thinking, *Did we even watch the same film?*  

It’s okay. Taste is personal.

On the bus ride back, though—that’s when the real magic happened.

It was a conductor-less non-stop from Shivamogga to Tarikere: one door, driver doubles as ticket collector. I stood near the front, juggling wallet, coins, phone, and a timed chess game while the bus jerked forward. Sudden lurch—wallet dropped. I grabbed most of the coins, but not all.

As I rushed to a seat, a girl in the front row stopped me and quietly handed over two ₹2 coins. For a split second, my mind raced: *Does she think I’m some homeless guy begging?* I judged myself, and judged her for judging me.

Then it hit me: those coins were mine—fallen unnoticed during the jolt. She’d simply picked them up and returned them. No fuss, no photo, no expectation. She could’ve kept them; no one would’ve known.

I felt ashamed. Not of her—of myself. That bad wolf inside me had assumed the worst before giving kindness the benefit of the doubt.  

She was just good. Quietly, purely good.  

And that small act struck something deep.

In India we bow to elders, touch feet, seek blessings: long life, happy marriage (which, let’s be honest, feels like a contradictory package deal—sorry, wife, couldn’t resist). In English movies, blessings seem limited to asking the girl’s parents for permission. Here, we greet everyone—good morning, good evening, had lunch?—until it gets exhausting. I’ve settled on the foolproof “Namaste.” One word, timeless, safe.

I’m 35, still feel like a kid in an uncle’s body—rushing home from school to catch old Upendra movies on TV, only to realise they’re 25 years old. Whaaat?! Don’t bullsheet me, Rogers.

I’m mostly 90% atheist. I don’t deconstruct the idea of a higher power, but I don’t pray for things, don’t bargain with seva. Still, when I stand before any god, I say the same line:

*Ellarigoo Olledagali, Adaralli Naavu Irali.*  

Let good happen to everyone, and let me be part of it.

Another day, another exam, this time on my bike. Slow rider—no earphones, no rush, eyes on the road like an off-beat Dr. Rajkumar song. Between Bhadravathi and Shivamogga, a kid waved for a lift. His stop was on my way. Then his friend appeared—peas-and-carrot dynamite combo. Technically three on a bike is illegal, but kids are half-size, right?

I couldn’t say yes to one and no to the other. So both climbed on. They bombarded me with questions—bike price, my salary, college stories—shattering my autopilot peace in the best way. Near their school, a massive Tamannaah billboard in a Kanjeevaram saree stopped traffic… and apparently stopped the kids too. We all stared. I laughed inside: *This is why I got low grades, and why these two will end up like me.*

Kindness costs nothing, they say. I disagree. It costs patience, risk, sometimes money or sanity. That day I had just enough for the exam and a matinee show—no valuables, familiar route, students I trust. Still, what if they’d been someone else? Robbed, injured? Kindness has a price.

High school days, my friend coined a phrase after we accepted arranged marriage was probably our fate:  

“Whatever Happendella Happendoo Happendu.”  

Whatever is meant to happen will happen exactly when it’s meant to—no earlier, no later.

Girls took 75% of our brain; studies got the remaining 25%, hence the 35/100 marks. Later, jobs came, and suddenly everyone obsessed over cars. At the mall, past makeup stalls full of girls, we’d think: *That car looks affordable—maybe a loan?* Girls forgotten.

I dreamed of a car too. Then one day at the bus stand, after passing my driving test (and paying the usual “speed money”), someone slit my bag and stole ₹40,000 cash—forty days’ salary back then. I realised only after the bus left. Too late to chase, too late for a complaint. The pain stabbed deeper than the blade. Tears wouldn’t even come.

That loss haunted me. *If I’d had a car, this wouldn’t have happened.* Desire returned stronger. I saved every penny, always calculating how four months earlier my goal would’ve been if that money hadn’t vanished.

Eventually I got the car—story for another day.

Then came the floods. Chennai, Meghalaya—houses floating, cell towers ripped apart. I saw an Audi bobbing like a paper boat we used to float in rainy streams. All that wealth… nothing. Maybe sell the car, move to the hills, farm? Farming’s hard. Trade? Risky. Job? Back to square one. Circle of life.

My pain wasn’t diluted by others’ greater losses. Pain is personal—let me suffer, as Arjun Reddy’s grandmother said.

A few days ago, eating puri sagu with one hand, playing five-minute chess with the other, I lost in eight moves. Rage hit hard. Then a line from *Barry* flashed: “You cannot control other people’s actions.” Murphy’s Law, *Interstellar*, *Kaithi*—everything reminded me: what can happen, will.

I’ve been the atheist, the tolerant bystander, the quiet believer. I’ve learned: don’t treat God like an ATM. It’s okay to whisper Ram Ram entering a dark room, but don’t ask for the bus-stand girl’s number.

I’ve lost money, friends, jobs, interviews. I’ve gained a bike, a car, some success. Still, I choose goodness—not for reward, not because bad people thrive, but because I want to be good.

Every night now, before sleep, I say this quiet prayer:

*Oh Dear God,*  

*I may not*  

*understand everything,*  

*but I know*  

*this one thing:*  

*The world*  

*is a mix of both*  

*chutney and sambar—*  

*the people*  

*who do good*  

*and get high*  

*on others’ misery.*

*I promise*  

*myself, and*  

*sometimes You:*  

*I’ll try,*  

*to the maximum extent,*  

*to be good*  

*and do good,*  

*expecting nothing.*

*Ellarigoo Olledagali,*  

*Adaralli Naavu Irali.*

Let good happen to everyone.  

And let me be one among them.

---

Ellarigoo Olledagli: Chutney, Sambar and a Quiet Prayer 🙏

The other day I was going in a bus. There were very few buses to my destination and too many passengers. As soon as a bus arrived, it filled up instantly, and still more people were left on the platform, waiting for the next one that probably couldn’t accommodate them either.

It was a Saturday. Weekend rush. I was going to Shivamogga to write a promotion exam. Honestly, I wasn’t prepared. There was no way I could top the exam. The only way it would end was me tanking it.

(Side note: Top the exam, tank the exam — rhyme is important.)

Having said that, the exam was just a decoy for me to watch The Villain movie. I love Shivanna. I love Kiccha Sudeep. And I greatly admire Prem as a director. Triple Dhamaka. That alone was reason enough.

So even inside the exam hall, I was humming “Endu Ninna Noduve” — Dr. Rajkumar song, Eradu Kanasu or Premada Kanike, not sure. The point is, my mind was already in the theatre. After the exam, we slid into an auto and went straight to the movie. I genuinely enjoyed it.

Two days later, the internet started trolling the movie like anything — almost on Morbius level (which is high praise, coded in sarcasm). I casually wondered, did we even watch the same movie?

It’s okay. Happens to the best of us.

And while returning from the movie, something happened on the bus.

---

This was a non-stop KSRTC bus — Shivamogga to Tarikere. Recently, KSRTC removed conductors on some routes. The driver collects cash, issues tickets, and once the bus is full, it starts.

I got on the bus and was standing near the door. The driver was issuing tickets. I was holding the overhead pole with one hand, wallet and coins in the other, phone half-misplaced in my shirt pocket, and playing a timed chess game in between. Peak multi-tasking stupidity.

Suddenly, the bus jerked. The gear stuck and released fast. My wallet fell. I managed to grab some coins, but the wallet dropped. The driver asked if I was okay. I said yes, picked up the wallet, and rushed toward a seat because — chess clock was ticking.

Then a girl sitting in the front seat stopped me and handed me two ₹2 coins.

Instantly, my mind judged the situation: What is she thinking? Does she think I’m homeless? Am I collecting alms?

But the truth was simple. Those coins had fallen earlier. She picked them up and returned them.

She could’ve kept them. Nobody would’ve noticed. But she didn’t.

And that’s when it hit me — I wasn’t being judged. I was the one judging her kindness.

The bad wolf in me reacted before the good sense arrived.

She didn’t take a photo. She didn’t announce it. She just did the right thing.

That struck something in me.

---

In India, we often bow to elders, gurus, and seniors. Blessings come naturally — have a long life, get married soon, live happily. Which is honestly a contradictory blessing. How can one get married and live happily?

Sorry wife, couldn’t help myself 😄

Through English movies and TV shows, I noticed that blessings often come only when asking permission from the girl’s parents — and even that is optional if the girl is on board.

We greet people every day — good morning, good evening, had lunch?, rain okay?, harvest okay?

Honestly, it’s tiring. You can’t say good evening at 8 AM in a supermarket, and you definitely can’t say good night casually at work without risking an HR meeting and a POSH complaint.

So I follow a foolproof plan — Namaste.

One word. Timeless. Safe.

I’m 35, but I still feel like a kid living in an uncle’s body. I remember rushing home from school to watch Upendra movies on Udaya TV. Someone once told me those movies were 25 years old. I was like, Don’t bullsht me, Rogers* — yes, Captain America reference, pop culture is important.

I’m mostly atheist. I don’t pray for things. I don’t do seva hoping for returns. I keep my distance from spiritual transactions.

But if I ever say one thing in front of God, it is this:

Ellarigoo Olledagali,

Adaralli Naavu Irali.

Let good happen to everyone, and let me be in that good.

---

Another day. Another exam. This time, I went on a bike.

No earphones — bike and earphones are like fire and kerosene. Speed was slow, Dr. Rajkumar slow-tempo song style: “Baanigondu Elle Ellide.” I left early. Calm. Controlled.

Between Bhadravathi and Shivamogga, I saw a guy walking, checking behind repeatedly, hoping someone would give him a lift. I usually don’t entertain lift requests unless circumstances feel safe — known area, no valuables, instincts aligned.

I’m especially okay with students. They’re always low on Vitamin M (money). Helping them feels like punya. Kyunki saas bhi kabhi bahu thi — I know the struggle.

People say kindness costs nothing. I disagree.

Kindness costs money, patience, safety, sanity.

That day, I was low on funds — only enough for the exam and a matinee show. I was open to giving lifts only to students.

Two school kids waved at me. Same destination. Peas-and-carrot dynamite combo. Technically illegal — three on a bike — but I couldn’t say no.

They climbed on, curious, asking about my bike, income, college life. My autopilot broke. And then I noticed a Tamanna billboard in a beautiful Kanjeevaram saree — so stunning you might crash into a tree if you stare too long.

I stopped near their school and tapped their shoulders. No response.

Turns out, they were also staring at the same billboard.

I laughed inside. That moment, I saw my past, my present, and possibly their future. And I moved on.

But I also thought — what if things went wrong?

Kindness isn’t free. It’s always a gamble.

---

“Whatever Happendella Happendoo Happendu,” my friend once said in high school.

We had just crossed puberty avenue and didn’t want arranged marriages. Tried, failed, gave up. That’s when he said it.

Roughly: What must happen will happen at its time — not early, not late.

Academics are effort-based. Love is accident-based.

Anant Nag said it best in Gaalipata.

Desires change. First girls. Then jobs. Then cars.

One day I realised I wanted a car.

---

I couldn’t afford one. So I thought smart — if I can’t afford a ₹100 masala dosa, I’ll eat a ₹30 idli. I got a driving license instead.

After the RTO test, I boarded a crowded bus. Someone slit my bag and stole ₹40,000 cash — about 40 days of my salary back then.

I didn’t cry. Not because it didn’t hurt.

But because tears didn’t cooperate with the pain.

That loss stayed with me for a long time.

Later, floods came — houses floating, towers falling. I saw an Audi floating like a paper boat. That day, my ₹40,000 pain felt small — but still personal.

Pain isn’t diluted by comparison.

---

Recently, during lunch at office — puri sagu in one hand, five-minute chess in the other — I lost a match in eight moves. Raging moment.

Then I remembered a line from Barry:

You cannot control other people’s actions.

Murphy’s Law doesn’t say something bad will happen.

It says whatever can happen, will happen.

I thought about goodness. About belief. About not making God an ATM or genie.

I’ve gone from full prayers to no prayers to some prayers to acceptance.

So now, before sleeping, I say this:

---

Oh dear God,

I may not understand everything,

But I know this one thing —

The world is a mix of both

Chutney and sambar.

People who do good,

And people who get high

On others’ misery.

I promise to myself,

And sometimes to you,

I’ll try — to the maximum extent —

To be good, and do good,

Expecting nothing.

---

Ellarigoo Olledagali,

Adaralli Naavu Irali.

Let good happen to everyone.

And let me be one among them.

🎬 — END —

Skylight

(Image generated with Gemini AI)

In the night

I look above 

And remember 

All the time 

We spent 

Holding hands 

And planning 

What's for dinner

And where to buy

Groceries for the 

Next day cooking 

I was doing my

Taxes in the laptop 

And you were just

Window shopping 

Dresses and Stuff

Which I don't understand 

While I was in

Middle of that

A simple photo notification 

From 15 years ago

Of us holding hands

In the beach

By the sunset

Popped up and

I accidentally 

Scrolled down

The notification 

Might have disappeared 

But the memory isn't 

The feels

Definitely didn't

Home is Where The Heart Is ❤️

Once upon a time

There were birds

Waiting on a bench

At the top of the hills

In a tourist town

With a temple.

When humans vanished

From existence,

The birds waited

Every day

For puffed rice

And water.

But no one came.

They starved,

And did the only thing

They knew —

They migrated.

To a new place

Near the lake.

Built a nest,

Called it home,

And began again.

There is always something

We don’t know,

Something we can learn

Every day —

And grow

Every day.

The Politician Who Knows Nothing Beyond 4

This happened in my dream, and it's kinda political, and I the one don't want to get political online or offline, so I'll just change names, story is important, not the real politician of my state or country. 

The dream is i accidentally invented a proverb, I hope this catches up and stays in pop culture. The line is "if you ask someone who knows only to write 4 and ask him to write 11, he'll write only" this line needs a little polishing. Okay, this has been said by politician k criticising politician n because he doesn't have vision, an old video surfaced on twitter of politician k criticising politician n but now both are friends of coalition or something. So that video sparked debate on politicians vision and loyalty or hatred to each other. I listened to that clip and I visualised politician p who only knows how to write 4 trying to write 11. Everyone is staring, the news are capturing full buzz all over. The politician writes a vertical line like 1 and half crowd claps and he writes another 1 and the whole crowd claps because he wrote 11 and while everyone was celebrating it he draws a bridge between 1 and 1 which becomes 4 and the whole nation is stunned, and I scream I knew it, and I woke up. 

Tell Me Why Are We, So Blind To See

I was in main bus stand, was supposed to go to private bus stand on back of this but had 15 minutes time, so I sat and played chess, a man stumbled on to me from back, i didn't had any valuables so I was pretty chill. He asked me to show direction to the new bus stand. I said this is the new bus stand. He said no no sir, the new one, they demolished a jail and built a bus stand for rural buses, not this one main bus stand. I grasped the context and I deducted he was blind, at that point, i realised there's no point in saying go straight and take left, so I dropped him off at rural bus stand and walked towards my private bus stand destination. And yes, i abandoned that chess match, I'm just elo 120, so it's not big deal. But before that, I saw a clip of "a different man" movie and wanted to watch it this weekend, google said it's on prime, I checked it's not there, neither on Netflix or jiohotstar, so I said sebastian stan aka my guy Bucky may have to wait, let's chess instead and I started a match. And then all this happened. A different man did leave an impression on me, and I'm at loss of words here, would i kill myself if I lose my eyes like him or face getting trashed like a different man, I might say no now as I have eyes legs and everything, but what if that happens, pain is personal, how we operate in fire is different from how we say we operate when there's fire, hypothetically. 

Change Is The Only Constant

This morning I had tea at bus stop. It was ₹10. The lady at shop gave me tea, while I was having that, standing and sipping my cup, I'm the only customer at that time, the woman and her husband were discussing some family matters, I didn't paid attention to that. After I finished my tea, I thrown my cup into dustbin and I asked Lay's of ₹10 for two packets. By that moment, the lady left the shop and the guy gave me two chips. I paid ₹50 and he returned ₹30/-. I was confused, ₹10 for tea and ₹10 for chips x 2 packets. So he should take ₹30 and return ₹20. I said "Anna, you didn't take bill for tea". He received my money and said "Oh" and gave me back my change. I felt like a royal Robinhood or something, I don't know who's the role model for integrity. I came to work with big face on my smile.
Coincidentally, while returning from work, I got on to the last bus, the ticket was ₹33/- and I had only ₹100/-. So, I gave him that and he gave me back ₹73 instead of 63/-. I counted thrice as I was also comfused, I'm not Harvard Graduate, I'm sorry, sheet happens. The bus conductor moved forward and there were not enough, just around 10 passengers in bus. So after all that he came, I also checked once in calculator, you know, just in case. While he came back, I gave him back his ₹10 extra and explained him that he gave extra. He said, "Oh, thanks" and moved on to his seat.

Change miss up happens now and then. I'm surprised it happened twice on same day and I'm feeling like Robinhood or something, back to back. Maybe tomorrow, I will enroll for election because of all the social service I did today. Maybe not, just kidding, happy weekend

Title: Change is the Only Constant

(Side note: Title is taken from that quote, nothing is permanent, only change is the permanent constant)