“For lunch in Kadapa city, Saar, you should go to Reddy Mess or Naidu Mess or Brahmin Mess. Full meals.”
“What do you mean by these names,” I asked. Why are they named thus?
Like a community name? I do not want to go and eat at a place where they do not
allow others to eat or if they ask for any sort of proof about my community.”
Subanna laughed. The way that only he could. There was no sound. He
would just tilt his head back and giggle and shake convulse in a certain way
and be back to normal within two seconds. You would never know that he had
actually laughed unless you saw him do that unique mannerism. He knew that I
was joking and that I knew all there was to know about the Reddy Mess or Naidu
Mess. He turned towards the city clock tower and pointed. Just like that.
“Saar, let us go to the Brahmin Mess today. You have eaten at the
other two and you are good friends with both the owners. You have not eaten ‘full
meals’ in Kadapa unless you have been to all the three eating houses. You will
not be able to move from the chair after you even finish half of that ‘full
meal’. I can just about finish one such meal.”
I smiled. He was correct. Venkatappa Reddy, the owner of the Reddy
Mess, near the bus stand had become a good friend. On occasions, we would stay
overnight at the wooden benches outside the mess if we missed the night bus out
to Siddavatam or if we were to wait to board the midnight long-distance trains
that ran between Mumbai and Chennai. Similarly, Muniswamy Naidu, the owner of
the Naidu Mess, had also delighted in sitting up with us after our meals and
sharing in some stories, some true and some totally made up, for I was
dedicated to listening to all his long tales.
“It is a challenge, Subanna,” I said. “I will finish at least one
full meal, if I try. I may not ask for anything extra.”
There he went again, Subanna with his silent laugh. He managed to
cross the busy main road while doing that. We came up to the outer shed of the
Brahmin Mess and I was surprised to see the largish crowd that was standing
around.
Subanna whispered, to pacify me. “Saar, today is Sunday and this is
special full meal day. Let us go only for limited meals. Today, the limited
meals will be more than the full meals. We will also get gunpowder rice, puliyodhara, ie tamarind rice, lemon
rice, and at least three types of payasam,
ie sweetened milk preparations, and one big laddoo,
made entirely of jaggery and sweetened cashewnuts fried in butter. There will
be fruits also. The full meals will have all this and unlimited rice, one plate
of puris, and some other stuff. It is
written on the blackboard outside the dining hall. They change the menu every
day. You can have your bet about full meals on some other day.”
This was getting to be paradoxically worrying and exciting. As a
foodie, one had to get tempted and challenged. But as a post-lunch journey in
the noon heat of Kadapa, this was like wanting to have an accident, right here
at the eating house, in the outer shed. I looked around and saw some men
snoozing right there, stretched out on the gunny sacks of rice and wheat. Some men
were just seated on the floor and resting their backs on the sacks and snoring
away. One elderly lady was accompanied by a small motley group of middle-aged
and younger women. They were also sleeping it away, but had been provided with
coir cots. These cots were probably always kept here for such.
I was taken along the outer queue of intent diners and pushed to a
small cabin near the entrance. Subanna introduced me to the owner who gestured
for me to sit alongside. It was comfortable in the cabin and I looked around
for the reason. The owner had affixed two large heavy-duty exhaust fans with
strong wooden support frames on opposite walls of the tin shed. One fan
probably pulled the air inwards while the other one pushed it outwards. Good
idea. Smart man, especially for the famous sultry air-sucking heat of Kadapa in
the summer, I thought and smiled.
He had noticed my glances at the exhaust fans and my silent smile. “Welcome,
Saar, to my Mess. This should actually have been called Venkateswara Mess or
Balaji Mess but that is too much like going on pilgrimage to Tirupati and
therefore my father called it as Brahmin Mess so that everyone knows that you
get only pure vegetarian food here. My grandfather and his two wives and their
four sons had started this place but in those years, there was no need for a
name board or whatever. They only made food for my father and his brothers to
run to the railway station and sell the food packets to the passengers of the
long distance trains. My father had an accident on the railway tracks and he
lost one leg and so he could not go with his brothers. So he decided to sit at
one place and continue with his father’s work. That is how I am now owner of
this Brahmin Mess. Do not worry about the food and its quantity here on Sunday,
Saar. I will tell them to bring a smaller quantity and you can eat here,
peacefully, unless you want to dine inside.”
It was the manner in which he said it. Almost like a challenge.
Subanna knew my answer. I replied, “Thank you but I would like to eat inside. I
do not want to break the queue and jump ahead. Is there any special room
inside?”
“Do not worry about that, Saar,” the owner said. “Subanna knows what
to do and where to sit without breaking the queue. We have a table kept aside
for policemen, truck drivers and state transport bus drivers. There will be
some empty seats there because it is a Sunday. You can sit there and I will
tell the servers to get you a very limited meal. You are free to order whatever
extra you want but please keep some space. I will treat you to a special banana
and paan (betel leaf) and some
coffee, special Kadapa coffee. You will enjoy the menu here. After that you can
sleep.”
“Sleep? Here?” I replied in surprise. “We have to drive out there on
my motorcycle and reach Vontimitta or at least reach Bhakarapet and take some
rest. It will be risky if I take a nap here. There will be traffic in the
evening.”
The owner smiled and waved his palms at Subanna. “Tell your saar,
that there is no way that he will be able to even walk out of the shed after
the lunch and the bananas and the coffee. You both should take some rest, sleep
and enjoy the joy and pleasure of the Kadapa Brahmin Mess. Evening, when you
wake up, you can have the evening tiffen, we have special idlis and chutney,
excellent tomato tamarind chutneys and some more Kadapa coffee. You can sleep
after that tiffen. Do not worry about driving to Vontimitta. I will take care
of that. You will get there safely.”
“You will take care of that?” I asked. “How? Are you planning to
drive my motorcycle to Vontimitta with us?”
No comments:
Post a Comment