Its FRIDAY evening , that wretched time of the week which every bachelor dreads. As usual, I don't have any plans or a date. I was never cool enough to break into the elusive dating game. Dating was never an Indian phenomenon, at least not in the era in which I grew up. None of my friends ever dated. By some stroke of cosmic misfortune, I never got a chance to hang out in a group which had girls in it. The ratio of male : female in my college class room was 55 : 5 . Yes, that’s about 5 girls for 55 very sexually repressed guys. What’s even worse, those 5 gals were almost invariably "kaaku-baai" types (oily hair, book-wormish, salwaar kurtaa). Little wonder us guys shunned those asexual females & instead we took an instant fancy towards "Bane" (pronounced baney, as in the song "Hum Baney, Tum Baney Ek Duje Ke Liye") an effeminate Karan Joharish type (KJT) guy from our class.
Back then we were not so politically correct & socially aware to treat KJTs with respect & equality. Bane too on his part, didn't give us any reasons to treat him like a MAN. He displayed nakhraah's and the chutzpah of a trained Katthak dancer. He had the whole act going for him ; kohl laden eyes, limp wrists, fingers touching cheeks while blushing, swinging hips, he had it all. Upon our (persistent) requests he use to strike sensuous Mudraas with his long & expressive eyelashes.
His strong feminine resolve was tested almost everyday. From getting his various body parts pinched, hair pulled, his shoelaces tied together, his lunch pack hijacked, to people sticking bubble gum to his backside, he endured it all with the equanimity of a smiling buddha. I strongly suspect that he secretly enjoyed all the attention that the guys showered on him. We stumbled upon the reason for
"why he was, the way he was" when he invited us home for his birthday. At his home we were greeted by his 4 domineering sisters ! Poor ole "Banuklee" was the lone male child in a household full of girls, and it showed. From that day onwards, we became bit more moderate towards him (one should always be friendly & kind with a guy who has 4 young & presentable sisters) .
I guess, i digressed a bit. I was just trying to give a little peek into my traumatic & barren past. Till this date, I can't strike a decent conversation with a girl without breaking into fractured jumbled up sentences & long unnerving pauses. Coming back to the topic of Friday blues. I was debating over the two options that I had :
Option 1 : Go to library & browse through the Zen philosophy collection. Off late, in my quest of finding purpose behind my directionless single existence, I am gravitating more & more towards such literature.
Option 2 : Head home. Watch TV. Have dinner. Watch some more TV. Sleep.
For over a month now, our kitchen has been under a major southern invasion. Its raining saambar, rassam & dosa's since my roommates parents came for a 2 month long stay. I am not exaggerating here, these days if one were to poke a needle in my veins they would draw saambar instead of blood. I am really counting down days for this seize to end. I want to re-claim my rightful place in our kitchen. Meanwhile, I am trying my best to preserve my Ghaati taste buds. They really needed a break from this madraasi trauma, so I hastily chalk up another option.
Option 3 - Dine out & go for a stroll by the Sg'pore River.
[I should have known better]
I decided to check out "Makaan Mumbai" (MM) , a discreet eating joint which I have been eyeing for many weeks now. It was around 7:30'ish , at that early hour only one table was occupied. Two middle aged Gujju gentlemen (??) were tucking in heartily on Naan & some Punjabi dishes. I was quick to spot 2 bottles of Kingfisher beer on their table. I am not a beer guy, but I have seen my friends getting all emotional & teary eyed at the mention of this particular brand of desi beer. They say, one needs to be really paavan (pious) with lots of good karma to lay hands on KingFisher in foreign land. The reassuring presence of desi liquor, told me that I was finally at the right place at the right time.
I look around for a table. The interiors of MM doesn't cater for single seats, it doesn't even have those intimate "table for 2" kind of arrangements . The seating area mainly comprises of 4 or 6 chairs per table, predominantly targeting a clientele of families or groups. Their business model was certainly not built around the prospects of a single un-escorted guy walking in on a Friday eve.
I settle down in a table for four, with my backpack giving me company in the chair opposite me. My umbrella hangs by the back of the chair next to me. The third chair is empty. I have absolutely no illusions about my luck, ‘for the love of St.Pete’, no girl is ever gonna come & ask "Is this seat taken ? Do you mind if I share the table with you ?". No, those chancy romantic encounters don't happen with guys like me.
With an air of gloomy resignation & self-pity I bury my face in the menu card.
SNACKS (available after 3:30pm)
Vadaa Paav
Samosa Paav
Sabudaana Vada
Sabudaana Khichdi
Thaalipeeth
Misal Paav
Paav Bhaaji
Grill Vegetable Sandwitch
Grill Chutney Sandwitch
I am drooling all over, my tongue is ready to fall off and hit the table as I scan the list with a growing sense of disbelief. I stop just short at licking the menu card in untamed ecstasy. I have stumbled upon a ghaati oasis amidst a madraasi desert. My eyes are moist with tears of gratitude & joy.
The waiter comes in, I recognize him & much to my surprise he recognizes me too! It must have been more than 3 years since I last saw him. Somehow he hasn't forgotten me. Maybe its coz of my weird eating habits. Back then, when he was working at
"Kaamath's" , I use to order 2 Potato Vadaas & Roomali Rotis. He use to always double check if he had heard my order correctly ! And I use to re-assure him, yes that’s the frigging combination I want.
No such luck with Roomali Rotis @ MM, so I just order a "Vadaa Paav" & "Sev Bataata Puri". The problem with vadaa paav's in Sg , is that almost invariably , the paav that they serve here is of sweetened variety. It totally spoils the taste of the spicy vadaaa. I wonder why, with all their first world credentials these guys can't bake or import those humble paav's.
As I wait for my food to arrive, the crowd starts building up. Four young girls walk in and look around for seats. They deliberate over the prospects of sitting in direct line of vision of a hungry & suspiciously pervy sort of guy (that would be me). I try my best to give an impression of
"I am so blind... I hardly notice you" mixed with my
"I wouldn't be aroused... even if you were to sit on my lap" kind of blank look. I basically act as if I am more interested in the menu card & the wall hangings. This act seems to work just fine coz they indeed sit right across me. Yesss!!! I utter a low cry of conquest. (mind you, this is strictly a moral victory) . Local Indian, Indian Indian, Malay, Chinese, i am quick to classify the girls on racial lines.
My vadaa paav arrives. It comes with 2 varieties of chutneys, the dry garlic & wet mint one. I grab it with my bare hands. Spread open the bread a little, generously sprinkle the garlic chutney with my fingers and tuck right in. The Malay girl eyes the VP & my antics with disgust. I ignore her, with one hand holding the VP, i grab the menu card again with my other hand .My mind is already racing ahead of the VP & SBP that I had ordered. My eyes settle on Grill Chutney Sandwich. By now, the crumbs of the bread are all over the table, chair & some even on my shirt. But I am too pre-occupied satiating my deprived gut to notice such aberrations.
The sev bataata puri arrives. I am half-way thru the VP. Its time for a major decision, should i finish the vadaa paav first ? and keep the sev puri waiting ? But by doing so, i risk losing the crispiness of the puris. They would surely get soggy by then. I set aside the half eaten VP, and start gulping down the sev-puris one mouthful at a time. Now the bread crumbs on the table are insterspread with tiny bits of sev. In between mouthfuls, i flag down the waiter once again & order grill chutney sandwich. My highly entertaining display of caveman’ish dining etiquettes seem to have its desired effect. By now, the Chinese girl too is engaged in a peek-a-boo game with me. The two Indian girls continue to ignore me. The contempt however, is mutual.
"Ghar ki Murgi Daal Baraabar".
By the time i finish off the final morsel, i am feeling strangely orgasmic. A great sense of calm has descended on me. Finally i am a happy content man. All angst, all worries seem far far away in that peaceful moment.
The restaurant is now almost full. A bubbly young group of 5 ( 2 gals,3 guys ) , a young un-married couple , a middle aged married couple with a noisy kid. It seems like every body whoz anybody has a dining companion except me. I am resolved not to let this minor piece of injustice spoil my otherwise enjoyable evening. So i try to engage my waiter friend in conversation whenever he is free from his chores. He too is happy to talk to me, coz it seems amongst all the guests, i am the only person who is interested in hearing about his life & the story behind his bandaged arm. He tells me that he had been in a motorbike accident & was out of action for almost 2 months. He had resumed work just 2 days back. I enquire if his medical expenses were covered by insurance. Luckily for him, they were. Small mercies !! With more n more people coming in, i decide its best not to hog a table for 4 all by myself, so I quickly ask for the bill, grab my backpack & umbrella and make my way towards the cashier. Before I step out, I turn & wave a quick bye to the waiter.
Lesson learnt from this outing ( it holds true for all bachelors dining alone @ family restaurants) :
Find a seat facing the wall. That way you don't need to look at the happy faces of other diners. Practice Zen, it comes quite handy while greeting the condescending gazes of those sitting around you.
