Having feasted his eyes on begonias and bougainvillea at the Glass House year after year, the sight of wine bottles nestling in rows in stalls at Lalbagh was clearly scandalizing. What's the world coming to, tut-tutted the elderly gent behind me as we queued up over the weekend at Bangalore's historic park to sample what the Wine Board of Karnataka had labeledu00a0 "non-alcoholic" beverage! <img alt="" src="/imagedata/2009/jul/whine.jpg" align="right" border="5" />Ahead of us, a saree-clad woman eagerly discussed business opportunity with an attendant at the stall of Nandi Valley Winery. If she could dry lemons on her rooftop, could she not ferment grapes in a dark corner of her kitchen, she asked. Wonder what Mutalik would have to say that?! Between those showing disdain and those displaying keen entrepreneurial spirit, came the curious, who arrived in droves to guzzle sample after sample from plastic cups, without caring whether it was chardonnay, sauvignon or merlot. There was a near stampede when someone announced that there were freebies like wristwatches on offer at a particular stall. When it became clear that the goodies came with a rider, which involved shelling some serious bucks, a riot was averted. Particularly riveting was the sight of teenagers who were stocking up on the Rs 50- coupons, which entitled them to 2 glasses of wine each. Were they (the boys, not the wine) of the permissible drinking age? No one knew and no one seemed to care. At least not those who had put up boards that declared,u00a0 "Wine is a non-alcoholic drink".u00a0 Finally, it was my turn to see, swirl, sniff, sip and savour. Ah, all those tedious hours of reporting on food and drink would now pay off, I thought. But the gent behind me hissed, 'Hurry up, ma. Drink fast." Would you blame me if I confessed that the complexity of the exercise and the character of the wines were lost on me? For all I cared, it could've been grape juice served out of a carton. Wine-tasting works up an appetite but there wasn't a single snack stall, forget bread or cheese, in the vicinity. It was the kadalepuri and thotapuri mavinakai hawkers who appeased our growling stomachs with spicy puffed rice and chilli-infused slices of raw mango. But wait. You needn't be an oenophile (that's another smart word I picked up from my days on the food-drink beat; it just means wine connoisseur) to get woozy on the towering trees and the scented breeze of Lalbagh. It makes a good base camp for a leisurely weekend of wine exploration. u00a0 Perhaps, the next time around, the Wine Board will wake up to the park's potential and make the most of it instead of huddling folks into cubby holes. That can happen only if serious tasting festivals and not gulp-and-go melas are on the agenda. Hold the toast till then. Or head to Bordeaux for the real thing.

Where's the faith?

Having feasted his eyes on begonias and bougainvillea at the Glass House year after year, the sight of wine bottles nestling in rows in stalls at Lalbagh was clearly scandalizing.

Whine mela at Lal Bagh

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Whine mela at Lal Bagh

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