Some trips are planned with checklists. And some just crack open unexpectedly—like an egg in Namakkal.
Now, for those unaware, Namakkal is not just a dot on the map of Tamil Nadu—it’s the egg capital of India.
If a humble egg ever dreamed of being a superstar omelette(Kalakki), Namakkal is where it starts cracking the scene.
I landed here after two days of buzzing through Bengaluru’s traffic and filter coffee. Bengaluru has its own rhythm, but Namakkal… Namakkal has protein and peace.
Enter: Kalidasan.
A returned entrepreneur who’s seen the world, lived abroad, speaks like a global executive—but still orders at roadside dhabas like a local boss.
He’s built a thriving protein business right from the land of layers (pun intended)—and guess what, he’s a diehard Thalaiva fan too.
He took us to a typical Tamil Nadu dhaba on the outskirts.
You know the kind—no signage, plastic chairs, smells that tell stories, and waiters who don’t ask, they announce the order.
The food? Spicy, soulful, and smacking of my college memories.
Then came Kottu Parotta at a roadside eatery that could put any big city restaurant to shame.
Kottu Parotta is shredded parotta stir-fried with salna (gravy), egg, sometimes chicken—and pure chaos.
It’s noisy, messy, theatrical—and worth every bite of your adult digestion capacity.
And then, the Kal Dosa arrived.
Soft, thick, like that one college friend who never changed no matter what job he got.
Kal Dosa is the comfort food you don’t need to explain—it just understands you.
As I sat there, wiping my hands with a tissue that disintegrated on contact, I realized something—
Namakkal isn’t just about eggs.
It’s about returning to basics with people who stayed rooted while dreaming big.
There’s a breath of fresh air here—unbothered by startup buzzwords, VC decks, or Zomato ratings.
Just a simple, sincere world where a man named Kalidasan can be your food guide, business guru, and local legend, all rolled into one.
All credit to Dr. Jayant, who made sure I didn’t miss Namakkal’s finest—even if it meant skipping my comfort zone (and a couple of Zoom calls).
Rhythm & Rasam: Namakkal Trip’s Last Track
Just when I thought Namakkal had served up all its surprises—eggs, Kal Dosa, and Kottu Parotta—we found ourselves in a quiet local bar in Salem near Namakkal. The kind where the lighting is soft, the conversations are mellow, and the music feels like a comforting hum in the background.
And then, softly but unmistakably, 2000s Tamil songs began to play.
“Dhimsu Katta…” floated through the speakers, and I couldn’t help but smile.
In that moment, I was mentally transported—back to college days, dancing in hostel corridors with full energy and zero choreography, powered purely by youthful overconfidence and mess food.
I turned to Kalidasan and said,
“Next time, take me somewhere I can actually dance to these songs. Like old times. No crowd, no cameras. Just me, the music, and a floor to embarrass myself on.”
He laughed. He got it.
Then Kalidasan, ever the humble host, turned to me with a straight face and asked,
“Do you want to dance now?”
No sarcasm. No theatrics. Just genuine Tamil Nadu hospitality in its purest form. I laughed, thanked him, and said,
“Next time, Kalidasan. But when we do, I want the full dance floor, no judgement, and a DJ who understands kuthu is an emotion.”
And with that, Namakkal gave me one final memory—quiet, heartfelt, and full of rhythm.
Because sometimes, the real joy isn’t in reliving the past—it’s in planning to misbehave like you used to, just one more time.
