Recap: Episode-1, Episode-2, Episode-3, Episode – 4, Episode – 5, Episode - 6
1250 to 1430 Hours:
"Yusuf Bhai, Biryani khilado yaar! ", (Yusuf, Let's have some Biryani now!), I said adjusting my seat, which had been pushed back, much further than what I did previously, probably because Yusuf had to take a nap in between. It is said in our part of the world, that the Gods in the holy heavens, have never willed a more enticing way of taking care of the pouncing hunger, than to indulge in the ever tantalizing, Hyderabadi Dum Biryani.
“Sir, Grills pass me hi padta! Vahan chale?” (Sir, Grills is nearby! Do we go there?) He said looking at the timer on the dock. It was ten minutes past One.
“Yusuf Bhai! Agar aapko biryani khani hoti toh kahan khate?” (Yusuf, if you had to eat some Biryani, where would you go?"), I said checking my mobile for yet another list of missed calls. This time however I had a couple of missed calls from my mom. I decided to call her once I was done with my lunch. Reason being, more often than not, I ended up sounding stupid and childish, on an empty stomach, which I couldn’t afford to sound now that I had taken a bold step coming to a new city against my mom’s wish. I needed to at least sound brave and in control. I saw an unknown number as well in the list. I wasn't going to let my curiosity get the better of me, not while I was still on roaming, and therefore scrolled my way out of it
“Sir! Main toh vaise 'A-Star Biryani Point’, jaatu! Madhapur me padta voh. Par vahi mashoor Paradise bhi padta!” (Sir! I usually go to 'A-Star Biryani point. That's in Madhapur. Also, the famous Paradise hotel is there too!), he said now driving the cab, with only his right hand on the steering wheel.
“Ok Bhai”, I said, imagining biryani.
We got down a “new” flyover and turned left at, what was called the Cyber Towers junction. As we passed the local bus stop, and were about to drive into a rough lane, when I asked Yusuf Bhai, to stop the cab. I needed to do something before losing myself, in the heavenly taste of Biryani. I got off the cab and walked to the fairly vacant bus stop behind us, and sat on a wooden bench, which was already half occupied. She was there. Beyond Hope.
“So, Butterscotch in the ice-cream flavours, Daft Punk in Pop music bands and History in tenth standard subjects!” I said looking straight ahead at the road, where a couple of Auto walas hovered their Autos in ultra-slow motion over the edge of the bus stop , practically hunting for any change in expression on faces of the people stranded at the bus stop. One molecular hint of interest and they would pounce on the opportunity, bombarding the guilty with questions ranging from “Kahan Jaana Saab/Madam” (Where do you want to go, Sir/Madam) to a more impolite "Phir Kaiku bulaya, Saab /Madam?" (Then why did you call us, Sir /Madam).
“Not really a fan of ice-creams, though I do prepare them at times. So I’ll go with Black Current, cause Chocolate isn't really my thing and I’ve just had some, which again to my dismay tasted awful. Imagine Dragons answers the next query and I suppose Mathematics in tenth standard. I was actually good at maths, the non-algebra part to be specific” the husky, yet in equal measures smooth, voice from my right, replied.
“Yeah, I remember Chocolate. What was the list again? Chocolate, Coffee and?” I said, now looking at a sparingly full city bus come to a screeching stop in front of us, with a young boy swaying on the footboard, for no apparent reason, but for the sheer pleasure of juvenile daredevilry and maybe for a better, closer view of the world.
“Bread. It's Bread”,she said without looking at me and maintaining a totally unbeknown look on her face. I heard her, took out my shades and wore them without turning my head, swiftly walked out of the bus stop.
“Had lunch?” she said running her hands through her hair and ruffling them up .
“Going to!” I said peeking joining her outside.
“Biryani?” she asked as though it was the most obvious thing to do. But then again it was. It’s like having Vada Pav in Mumbai, Golgappa in Delhi, Sambar Idly in Chennai and Veg Snacker in Bangalore.
“A-Star, Yes!” I replied checking my watch.
“Mind if I join?” she said, and started walking towards the cab which was stranded at the side turn, before I could say 'yes' or 'no' or whatever one was supposed to say to that hypothetical question.
We walked to the cab, and took our respective places in the cab, and I asked Yusuf Bhai to deliver us at heaven.
“So you were supposed to hang out with your pals right?” I asked Geetika, out of curiosity
“Well, it is a working day and apparently for my pals working in the MNCs, their bosses at London were no mood of letting them go. I did meet one of my colleagues from the hotel and bade him goodbye! ", she went on explaining what was up with her, which in the context of things wasn't really necessary.
“Oh that's nice. So you were heading back home? "
"Sort of. But I had to stop by at a mall before, just to purchase some things. So what about you?"
“It was interesting. Went to my Aunt’s, took a nap, so, yeah! ", I said as Yusuf slowed down the cab, near a two storeyed building, which proudly hung up a huge green and red display board, with A-STAR written in, what seemed like a proper blend of retro pop and Arabic italics, and a picture of what looked like a badly morphed Salman Khan, with his popular long locks and hair falling on his forehead like a wild grazing ram. Sallu Bhai had a biryani pot in front of him and with his right non- muscular hand was showing everyone way to the joint’s entrance.
“Welcome Madam ", a waiter greeted us (or maybe just Geetika) courteously, as we arrived at the second floor. The waiter had a napkin on his shoulder for some reason and had a maroon uniform on him and a complementary Topi as well. He quickly opened the glass door which led to an AC room as promised, and twenty or so tables, arranged in three columns. We chose a table in the second column and sat opposite each other, as the napkin clad waiter paced to another table to tend to their hunger needs.
“We’ll split the bill, OK?" she said as she rotated the lid on a red plastic jug
“Sure. I was actually about to say that” I said putting my mobile on the table and quickly glanced at the ever increasing notifications.
“You were?” she said with an utterly straight face, which felt that she was trying to hide a laugh. And then I realized that I had definitely done something incredibly stupid, that I didn't actually realize yet. Thankfully to my rescue, the napkin clad waiter arrived at our table, with a pocket notepad in his hand and a ball point pen over his right ear.
"Menu kya hoga yahan pe, bhaiya?” (What would be the menu here), I asked the waiter, who clearly looked upset that we hadn't decided on anything yet, without looking at the menu card. I mean who does that, anymore.
“Veg ya Non Veg, saab?” (Veg or Non Veg, Sir?) He asked in a matter of factly manner
“Veg milta yahan?” (Do you have Veg, here?), Geetika asked him visibly surprised at the possibility. An odd musing I thought.
“Nahi milta Madam” (No we don't) the waiter cleared our doubts. Geetika looked at me as though she wanted to tell me something, but then, it was my turn to hide a smile with a straight face. She saw what I was doing, and shook her head, and drew my gaze towards the fork that she was gripping with her right hand. That clearly ended the amusement.
“Bhaiya, Biryani me kya hoga aapke paas?” (What would you have in Biryani?) I returned to the waiter.
“Ghosht Biryani aur Chicken Biryani. Dono me Handi milta” (Mutton Biryani and Chicken biryani. You can have Handi, ergo Pot, in both) he said, stressing on the word Handi.
“Handi kya hota hai?” (What’s Handi?)
“Matka bhar Biryani. Do jan ke liye khaafi hota!", (A pot full of Biryani, Will be enough for two!) He said starting to scribble on the notepad, as if he had decided on the Handi, for us.
“Oka Handi order cheyandi. Danto patu rendu Thumbs-up cheppandi!” (Order a Handi, and two Thumbs up with that!) Geetika said finishing the order within three seconds. The waiter nodded his head and walked away swiftly towards the kitchen.
“What did you say, Geetika?” I said.
“I just gave the order. That is Telugu, my dear Telugu Boy!” she said proudly folding her hands and smirking in her victory.
“Well played!” I said and unlocked my mobile as it vibrated with an incoming call. The number again. My Ex was in no mood to let me go.
“Being a good sport. So anyway, what's your story? Or did I hear it already?” she said returning to her usual cool self just as quickly.
“My story? It's going to take time, you know”
“The Biryani too will take some time. So yeah, let's hear it”
“Ok. So, well, I was born in Vishakhapatnam, and raised all over the country. My dad used to work as a journalist in Vishakhapatnam. Then he got promoted as a sub editor for a national newspaper, The Hindu, I think, and there at started my cross-country educational trip... "
“Wow! A journalist. I've never met a journalist, you know. They are like, I mean you know they exist, but you never get to meet them, never get to see them... "
“Non Existent and equally Omnipresent, yeah I know. But trust me, you wouldn't want to meet one! "
“You are exaggerating here! Can’t be that bad!”
“Trust me! I am not. So yeah, when he got into The Hindu, we moved to Chennai for a couple of years, then to Daman for somewhere around 6 or 7 months, then he got an offer from Indian Express, which took us to Delhi for three years, Bhopal for the next two, then Coimbatore for a couple, then to Mizoram... "
“Wait a second, you stayed in Coimbatore too. Cool, I did my schooling there. Though not all of it. Anyways, Coimbatore and Manipur, then..?” She said while counting my places on her fingers
“Mizoram. Aizwal actually. The unexplored North East, you know”
“That’s even cooler. The story just got interesting. So then...? "
“Ha-ha! Actually it's boring from here. Then Mumbai, to do my plus two. After which I got into the CA course, and have been away from home for the major part of the course. Did my internship in Gurgaon, and finally I landed here today”
“So your home is at Mumbai?” clearly following my epic journey without missing a beat.
“Not actually. My parents are back at Daman now”
“Ok Ok. So of all the places, the one's we have in common are, Coimbatore and Mumbai. I've stayed at these two places. Schooling at Coimbatore for four years and the Hotel management course in Andheri East. And here I am, having fun on my last day at Hyderabad”
“Well, I mean ironical...” The Handi of Biryani placed by the napkin clad waiter right in between the two of us, unceremoniously cut short my thought process. The Handi (the pot that is) almost overflowed with a heap of Biryani rice with a large tandoori leg piece on its peak, dressed up in all kinds of assorted spices and masala hues. It was then ably being supported by a couple of bowls, containing a greenish masala soup, which was called Shorba and curd prepared with ample amounts of coriander and miniscule pieces of onion. Also coming to the party was a tray full of neatly diced up Onions and Lime. The whole arrangement presented the kind of image, which makes you feel proud that you've finally managed to order something that is exactly, if not more enticing than the mental image that you’ve had of the said delicacy.
The waiter masterfully worked the biryani along the rim of the pot, with a couple of spoons and served it to us in equal proportions. He managed to even cut the large piece of chicken into two pieces, precisely, with the spoons. The Biryani rice looked a bit longer than I remembered, but gave out an aroma that took me back in time, when I had my first biryani at my aunt's place at Bangalore five years back.
The waiter in one sweeping motion, opened the cool drink bottles that he bought and placed them on the table, and calmly walked away.
“Use your hand to eat! That's the best way to savour the taste of Biryani ", Geetika said pouring some Shorba over her Biryani, in some sort of semi-circle pattern.
“I was actually planning to do that ", I said placing some Onion pieces and a slice of lemon in my plate. It was either the Indian way or the highway. And then I tasted the Biryani. I was never much of a believer in the divine presence around us, but it was things like this that made me question my own faith. The sheer magic in it was enough to make me go and hug the chef who prepared it, and if it was some woman who was as beautiful as Geetika, maybe kidnap and marry her.
“What’s ironical ", said Geetika from beyond the taste horizon, gulping a small amount of Coke.
“Ironical? Oh yeah. Well the fact that, this is my first day in the city and it's your last too. Clearly a rare occurrence, right? I mean what are the chances?” I said biting an onion piece.
“Yeah that's what. I don’t know from where the writers come up with these sorts of cheeky premises. It's like I'm handing over the city to the next in line. Passing on the torch, kinda like that ", she said with her mouth full.
“Yeah so what's your story?” I asked her getting a hint of control over my senses, which until that point were flying off the taste.
“All in good time, Boy. Let me eat first. This is a Piece of Art and it commands a certain sense of respect. Now as a chef I wouldn't want to deny it that ", she said and returned to pouring the Shorba all over her biryani and on the chicken piece as well...
Chai Bisket’s Story Series – Double Ka Meetha (Part – 7)
