Eating Out - A Path Down Memory Lane

After living on a steady diet of chappati, rice, sweet dal and uncooked sabjee for a month, I woke up one morning deciding I'd had enough. After a boring class that stretched on for what seemed like eternity, four of us jumped into an auto and explained to the confused auto-driver in our broken Hindi that we needed to eat some South Indian food. Smiling, he started his rickety auto and drove us to a crowded restaurant that promised South Indian delicacies.

Excited, we walked in and seated ourselves. A grumpy waiter in white uniform approached us with the menu card that we had to position in the right angle so that we could all look into it. Sada dosa, meethi dosa, cheese dosa, masala dosa, Mysore masala dosa (a friend of mine from Mysore swears that she has never seen the Mysore masala dosa back home), sada idlies, stuffed idlies, masal idlies, uttapas (when was the good old uttapam rechristenned uttapa?).

After a quick look at the menu, we decided on what we wanted to eat; two masala dosas, one cheese dosa and one vada sambar. Frowning, the waiter absent-mindedly walked back into the kitchen, while we spoke happily, discussing home food. We didn't have to wait long. The food arrived. I looked hungrily at the sada dosa that was placed in front of me. The dosa was perfect. Shaped in the form of a birthday cap, the hot dosa and the smell of the sambar accompanying it, drove me to ecstasy. The setting would have been perfect, if the waiter hadn't gone on to do what he did. He placed a fork and a knife in front of me. Puzzled, I took a moment to look around. I saw groups of people staring intently into their plates, as they tried to cut the dosa with a knife and hold it with a fork. I'd have continued staring if I hadn't heard my roommate mutter mutinously, "We are South Indians and South Indians don't eat dosas and idlies with a fork". All four of us returned the forks and the knives and ate.

We tried to enjoy the sweet dosa and the sweet sambar, but it didn't take us long to realise that in Pune, we'd only find the Maharashtrian version of South Indian food. Then we went back to our diet of eating proper Maharastrian food that our dabba lady provided.

By the time we got bored again, a kindly soul had told us about "Hong Kong," a friendly little Chinese joint that promised yummy Chinese food that was cheap. So, without wasting any time, we set out to have our fill of Chinese food.

We drove past the hotel thrice because the tiny little board wasn't easy to see. But one of us did eventually see it, so we walked in trying to ignore the walls that needed to be painted, the stained plates and the crooked forks. The menu card was a pleasant sight, as it promised Schezwan Chicken for a mere 25 bucks. We all placed our order and waited for the food. In the background, we could hear an unknown singer moan certain unmentionable lyrics, but that didn't stop the students from walking in. The place was crowded and when the food came, we realised that the food was yummmm. We walked out feeling happy, full and reasonably rich. But then we couldn't really live on Chinese food for the rest of our lives. So we began our search for cheap, everyday kind of food that was spicy.

A dear senior suggested Sai Leela. This place has become a favourite since then. A place that offers all kinds of food, it's a regular haunt for all kinds of students. We usually sit over chappatis that cost only two bucks, and flutter our eye lashes at cute hunks sitting across. The food is cheap and South Indian! An unassuming place that has no ambience to boast off, here, we fought, made up, gossiped and scribbled last minute assignments in a tattered little notebook.

When we felt the need for change, we'd visit the university circle that had to its credit numerous stalls that sold all kinds of food. So when a test went well, when a boyfriend made that special phone call and when the director decided to go out of station, we would celebrate by the road and enjoy the dishes that the stalls in the university circle provided.

Though students are usually on the lookout for cheap eating joints when away from home, we usually end up finding the appropriate place in some corner, in the midst of some crowded shopping area. Oblivious to the cook's background, we unthinkingly walk into these little hotels to enjoy a meal and before we know, these places become fixtures in our mind, each standing for some pleasant memory. We go there missing home food, but we leave bearing in mind special memories, memories that we'd probably treasure for the rest of our lives.