The Mess

In the lunch time he is only one of the many boys who serve food at the New Andhra Mess, but this 19 year old is the master cook in the evening. He owns the show with his ability to make perfect round chapattis and dosas. His set-up is outside the small food joint, an invitation to the passers-by with the smell of cooking of the amazing combination of wheat flour and water that people like me miss in Chennai. 

I eat at the New Andhra Mess lunch and dinner, day in and day out, Rs. 50 a meal. Despite the description of my emotional need for Wheat rotis the decision to eat here all the time is a very rational one, based on a matrix analysis of cost and unquantifiables such as quality, taste, and accessibility.

When I arrived this particular evening, he greeted me with a wide grin and a hand to the forehead secular army like salute, something I greet everyone with, and a loud and clear Hello, sir!”

      We had a short personal interaction when he wanted some of his mobile phone setting changed and was unable to do so since he cannot read English. The mobile phone and English language literacy! Most phones manufacturers identify this issue, but not his phone’s manufacturer. Anyway if he saw me do it a few times and tried it a few times in my guidance he will remember it by sequence, the shape of first character and length of the word. But I digress.

      Point is, he knows me and we greet each other all the time.

This particular evening, after greeting me, he started asking me a question in Hindi an offer very difficult to turn down in Chennai! 

He was kneading a large ball of wheat as he asked me “aap kahan ke hain?” (Where are you from?) and offered his guesses: “Punjab? Delhi?”

"No, I am from Mumbai, my parents live there. But I was born in Gujarat." I replied and asked “Aap kahan se hain?” curious about his kind-of-Bengali-but-not-really accent.

"Main Odisha se hain,” he replied, and went on to offer me his derivation from all that he knew of me with a wide grin of bright and shiny approval, “Aap pakka Hindu hai, hai na?” (You are a staunch Hindu aren’t you?) Gujarat’s religious fanaticism fame has reached far and wide beyond the literacy gap.

"Oh no, I am a weak Muslim” I replied with a laugh, stating a useless fact in a light way.

But there was no reply. He was visibly crestfallen at this discovery. He looked down, his smile had set and shine was turned off. He did not say another word.

I said "talk to you later" and walked in to the New Andhra Mess.

That evening I ate a chapatti made by my Odishi friend. I have to admit that I had doubts if my cook knowingly soiled my food. Who is ordering what, is very clearly visible here. But I removed this doubt away ate two more chapattis in memory of my Gujarat.

When I had done eating slowly and thoughtfully, paying for the food, and washing my hands, I passed by him on my way out. I was not sure what to do, so I saluted him in my army sort of secular way, smiled my practiced smile and said a loud good night!

He was startled and mumbled something like "ok good bye."

I walked a few steps to my motorcycle which was parked close by and a few long seconds later, I heard a loud and clear “good night sir!” in what I now know is Odishi accent. I turned back and smiled a smile: a genuine one. He looked at me in the eyes and nodded with a faint smile.

He also had time to think. 

All is well for now in this complex micro-world of human encounters.

Haleem

On one of my numerous trips to Hyderabad, near Chanda Nagar for my work in Nov-Dec 2012, I saw an unusual and welcome sight. A topi clad person was sitting with dishes piled in a pyramid. In a reflex, without really processing it I had a craving for food that I describe as Muslim Indian food.

 

My concept of “muslim food” has nothing to do with religion, only the culture. These are special delights made by the muslims of India, and are different in different parts of the country but there are many common features. One of these features is that they are made by Muslim shop/joint owners! But I have eaten excellent Muslim food in food places I don’t describe as Muslim, where the religion and culture of the cook, owner is not important or is deliberately secular. One such place is the Coffee House in Thrissur, Kerala, where I have had excellent Curried Chicken and Chicken Biryani!

In the meanwhile, I asked this person what he was making and selling. He said he was selling haleem. I was happy beyond my dream. I have never had haleem in Hyderabad, but I have read poems written in its praise. And I have had haleem in other parts of the country, and thus knew enough to not waste even one more second. I sat down on one of the plastic chairs trying to contain my overflowing excitement, in this case via salivary ducks, and asked him to serve me one portion. 

Even as I watched he removed a lid and took something out of the ground! This left my mouth open. Given the excitement involving salivary gland, this has some undesired effects.

More precisely he took something out of a huge metal container which is encased in the large concrete block he was sitting on. As I cleaned my mouth with a handkerchief, I tried to form the words to ask “what is the meat?”

“Chicken” he responded.

Unusual for muslim food to have chicken instead of lamb or beef, but it is the most affordable meat nowadays. And all I care for is the wheat, lentils and spices anyway.

After gobbling down two platefuls of the amazing mix, I was full of haleem. 

In the small space between larger grains and in the air bubbles, I was full of pity. Pity for the unenlightened poor souls in our country and the world who have no idea what wonderful delight of civilization I was savouring. I burped a happy reflux of tasty haleem which created some space for creative though, and I decided to write about it.

To begin, let me describe what I just ate with near death excitement. 

When served, haleem looks like a orange yellow grainy mix sprinkled with crispy fried fine springs of onion, fresh and fragrant finely chopped green coriander leaves, and a yellow slice of juicy sour lemon. In most parts of the country the paste is fine with no identification whatsoever of the contents other that some whole spices such as cardamom, cinnamon, or cloves, that are meant to be taken out at the time of eating. In other parts the ingredients are left in slightly bigger grains that are well blended with the invisible meat. 

Before this once, wherever I had haleem, it was served out of thick walled, sometimes big, but always regular sized containers. I asked the topi-ed guy about the huge metal deg dug into the ground. And unearthed a story. 

 Father of this chap is the hero of this story. He started this business 21 years ago. Then people considered it shameful to sit outside and eat, and there weren't many people who would eat at his shop. But he persisted, he would cook for marriages and on large orders, and daily a good quantity in this very container. Slowly he taught the people of this area the idea of outsourcing the preparation of complicated and time consuming food items to experts who offer this service for a small premium. And his business took on. Many years later his brother-in-law who was more of a business man than him, offered to look after the growing business. The brother in law used his brand name to start many branches in other parts of the city as well. But the business partnership spelled a financial disaster for the original cook. When he passed away the brother-in-law decided to lay a claim on the whole business. Now the son of the original entrepreneur is left to runs this one small shop to make his living. 

A rather sad story behind great this exciting food. Excites some other glands  such as the tear duct. But don't let the story dishearten you, keep your heart and let the spicy fatty food like haleem do things to it. If you want to cook haleem, one recipe can be found here and another one here (video).

Read More:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Haleem
http://www.deccanherald.com/content/183586/hyderabad-haleem-now-rs100-crore.html

Insignicant Chatter

Eat, Pay, Leave

I was surprised to find large vegetable or fruit shops being manned by one or two people in the USA, when I was there for the first time. The idea that anyone who wants to buy something will get it and come to the counter and pay for it, was alien to me. Since then I rave about this system based on trust and honesty. I am sure there are losses when the assumption of honesty breaks down. And rationally, perhaps in USA where labour is expensive, the losses may not be balanced by the cost of preventing them. But perhaps the shop owners are people who value this system based on trust in others and want to believe in it.

Now I am in Chennai, India and I have been eating most of my meals in one of the ubiquitous Andhra messes, for over 8 months.

Yesterday I went to a little more expensive and "professional" food joint called Hot Chips. Many readers may not associate this place with expensive, but food was 3 times the cost I have gotten used to paying. I was asked to purchase a coupon before I get anything; the workers were uncouth and unsmiling; I had to stand at a dirty table, no chair to sit and no one around to clean the tables; and there was no way for me to ask for extra serving of one or more of the condiments. This place is overstaffed, but the lack of trust and lack of respect for humans from the management seeps down the hierarchy. The workers were not expected to make natural human connections or receive feedback, they were not even expected to keep the place clean.

I ate unhappily and as I was leaving, I realised that I had made a payment up front. This organisation had no trust in me and they had found a system to not have to put their money in trust, and it dawned on me (many obvious things light up in my dim brain after experiencing shock). In smaller establishments like Andhra Mess someone may have kept track of what I eat, but I have no evidence for that. I am given, if I need something by smiling workers, in fact I am asked politely many times during the meal if I need anything. I can physically leave premises to wash hands, or get tea and come back, greet the cashier, praise them about their prowess with numbers, tell them what I ate, most often without any testimony from the serving staff and pay. If there is lack of change amounts on both sides, I don't mind paying a little more and they don't mind getting a little less.

I am not claiming this is the best system in the world, but I feel more human and real in this system. And this feeling is not less important than getting my nourishment. Perhaps for some vegetable and fruit shop owners in the USA and the Andhra Mess owners in Chennai it is not less important than making profit doing their business.

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The God of the Insignificant

A few weeks ago I watched a debate about the significance of religion in 21st century organised by the Cambridge Union a year or so ago. The way the title of the debate is worded is very classy: this house believes that organised religion has no place in the 21st century. Parts of this debate keep playing in a loop in my brain.

In this debate Prof. Richard Dawkins says, and I am paraphrasing him, that some people believe there is a god who can control everything. Who knows the values of all the constants and can controls the value of these constants to the umpteenth decimal value to lead the chaos from the big bang to the evolution of human beings, to the birth of his son on earth, ultimately, the people of faith believe, to have him killed him brutally. Such a knob twiddler, prof. Dawkins echoes my thoughts, he can put his trust in. But then, we should not worship such a god, because it would be pointless. Such a god should not be bothered with the concerns of one significant human on a rather small planet, in a solar system with a rather average sized star, in the outer arm of a rather average galaxy among the billions of galaxies in the endless universe. Such a god should not be bothered with our insignificant demands and prayers, she has better things to do. So many knobs to twiddle.

What Prof. presents as a reason for such god being beyond belief, is I think the very reason why many people need a god. To feel that there is justice on the whole, that there is a life after this unjust one, a life that starts after this one ceases to exist, where justice will be brought. Insignificant will become significant; poor, rich; and sinners, cheaters, bullies, schemers, smarter people, better equipped people will be punished for being the medium of evil.

Is it likely that this need is a manufactured one? Imagine a child growing up without knowing the power of the possibility of getting even in the hell-ish fashion: having heavenly bouncers and goons fry and toast your adversaries. In such a person's mind will such a need exist? Perhaps the whole concept of justice of the heavenly variety is mislaid. I want to hear more about connection of justice and religion in this EdX class.