Of Messes and Lanterns
Yesterday since mom had not cooked at home, had an opportunity to visit the nearby "mess" serving the standard north indian meal, . The very sight of the place would make any one nostalgic. Half a dozen tables placed in a small room, lot of "just out of college" guys and a lot of cribs about the mess food. These are the things that make a mess memorable. I mean I have never met a single guy who remembers and drools at the thought of the hostel or mess food. Its got be bad in order to produce nostalgia after a few years I guess.
Speaking of messes, Mysore, where I finished my engineering had a whole lot of them. It was very common to find the whole flock rushing towards some newly opened mess and raving about the excellent food and service available there. But it took a very short while for the novelty to wear off and the hunt for a different place to begin. But then there were some that really held our interest , until our gorge-capacities drove the owner to bankruptcy.
I remember the very first day I heard one of our seniors describing the directions to the SardarMess. "Us patli gali se neeche jao, ek naala aayega, use cross karna, gaadi lekar mat jaana, paidal jaana, fir vahaan par kafi bachche khel rahe honge, unmein ek sardar ladka bhi hoga, usse poochhna ki mess kahan hai, agar uska mood hoga to voh batayega varna kisi aur sardar ko dhoondhna". But what was surprising was that these were as precise directions as could be got. You walked down the narrow lane and bang there u could find lots of grimy kids playing some local version of cricket,(pitch catch out and so on), but what stood out amongst them was a boy who was the most vociferous with his shouts in Kannada. What made him stand out was that he was a sardar kid. In mysore finding a Sikh in those days was a rarity and finding one who knew his "maa", "behen" in kannada even more so!! As forewarned, this guy was least bothered about furthering his parents' business. And did not even bother to help us much beyond pointing a finger vaguely in the direction of a decrepit house. And questions as regards the timings and whom to contact were met with an impatient look.
Once we joined the mess however we realised that the seniors were as passionate about their business as the kids uninterested in it. I do remember an instance when the Sardar's son came back after writing his CBSE XII Maths paper. He being a good friend of ours all of us were interested in knowing about his performance but decided to leave the stage free for his parents for further enquiries. Sardar uncle stood up and commanded "Roti de de sabko....", and thats it!! And the son religiously went in and brought out the huge stack of rotis and started handing them out!! It was no different from any other day and we too continued our meal. Later we learnt that he had done pretty decently in the papers. But I definitely wondered whether the indifferent attitude towards the son's exams was intentional on the part of the father who himself was a very highly educated and respected person.
But the food served there was divine! Rotis,subjee, daal and onions. Bliss.. what more could hungry guys ask for before going to bed? And this too, after some exteremly hazardous driving to reach the mess, a path that could put any of the dirt tracks in competitions to shame. Whoever said "Parishram ka fal meetha hota hai", sure knew what he was saying!!.
Speaking of messes, Mysore, where I finished my engineering had a whole lot of them. It was very common to find the whole flock rushing towards some newly opened mess and raving about the excellent food and service available there. But it took a very short while for the novelty to wear off and the hunt for a different place to begin. But then there were some that really held our interest , until our gorge-capacities drove the owner to bankruptcy.
I remember the very first day I heard one of our seniors describing the directions to the SardarMess. "Us patli gali se neeche jao, ek naala aayega, use cross karna, gaadi lekar mat jaana, paidal jaana, fir vahaan par kafi bachche khel rahe honge, unmein ek sardar ladka bhi hoga, usse poochhna ki mess kahan hai, agar uska mood hoga to voh batayega varna kisi aur sardar ko dhoondhna". But what was surprising was that these were as precise directions as could be got. You walked down the narrow lane and bang there u could find lots of grimy kids playing some local version of cricket,(pitch catch out and so on), but what stood out amongst them was a boy who was the most vociferous with his shouts in Kannada. What made him stand out was that he was a sardar kid. In mysore finding a Sikh in those days was a rarity and finding one who knew his "maa", "behen" in kannada even more so!! As forewarned, this guy was least bothered about furthering his parents' business. And did not even bother to help us much beyond pointing a finger vaguely in the direction of a decrepit house. And questions as regards the timings and whom to contact were met with an impatient look.
Once we joined the mess however we realised that the seniors were as passionate about their business as the kids uninterested in it. I do remember an instance when the Sardar's son came back after writing his CBSE XII Maths paper. He being a good friend of ours all of us were interested in knowing about his performance but decided to leave the stage free for his parents for further enquiries. Sardar uncle stood up and commanded "Roti de de sabko....", and thats it!! And the son religiously went in and brought out the huge stack of rotis and started handing them out!! It was no different from any other day and we too continued our meal. Later we learnt that he had done pretty decently in the papers. But I definitely wondered whether the indifferent attitude towards the son's exams was intentional on the part of the father who himself was a very highly educated and respected person.
But the food served there was divine! Rotis,subjee, daal and onions. Bliss.. what more could hungry guys ask for before going to bed? And this too, after some exteremly hazardous driving to reach the mess, a path that could put any of the dirt tracks in competitions to shame. Whoever said "Parishram ka fal meetha hota hai", sure knew what he was saying!!.
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