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.