Features: Magazine | Literary Review | Life | Metro Plus | Open Page | Education Plus | Book Review | Business | SciTech | Friday Review | Cinema Plus | Young World | Property Plus | Quest | Folio |

Some, of course, get visibly excited when I tell them I am writing for The Hindu. I know one kabab seller who told a friend of mine (after my column had appeared) to get in line. “Don’t you know? I get written about in the papers!” he said loftily. This time, too, The Hindu evoked happy exclamations. I was at a kheer shop, and had urged the proprietor to get the paper on Monday to read my piece on the sublime kheer that I I’d had there. “Oh, we get The Hindu,” I was told. One of the daughters of the house is studying for the civil service examinations, and The Hindu forms a part of her must-read material. I had reached the kheer shop after walking several kilometres. Its formal name is R.K. Caterers, but most people still know it by its original name, Pehelwan’s. If you are at Chitli Qabar, take the road to the right towards Turkman Gate. After about 50 yards, turn right to Pahari Bhojla. At the T-junction, turn right again. R.K. or Pehelwan’s, now run by one of the sons, Nadeem, is on your right. It’s a large, open dairy, which sells all kinds of milk products. During the summer months, it makes gulab jamuns. And then, of course, they have a kheer that you can die for. The kheer served in a broad, V-shaped kulhar — is for Rs.9. And it’s so good that a whole lot of people who don’t usually like sweets — and one who even has sugar problem — lapped up a bowl each when I carried it back for some friends. The milk in the kheer is thick and creamy, but nicely runny once you have gone past the top, most thickly-set layer. The milk has been allowed to simmer on low heat for hours, which gives it a delicious taste and a light brown colour. Served cold, it is truly like ambrosia. I took my kheer, picked up some kababs on the way, and made my way to the Metro.

But I got a shock when I was told by some CISF guards there that while I could take packed vegetarian food on the Metro, I couldn’t carry packed non-vegetarian. “Why not,” I asked. “Because people litter,” I was told. But those who like to litter will do so with vegetarian food as well, I argued. What if someone throws a banana peel? I argued so much that they let me go, but it left a bad taste in my mouth. The majority of Indians are non-vegetarians, so how can we stop them from taking their food? I created such a fuss that I got a call from the GM, operations, the same evening. He apologised and said that there was no such rule, and that I was free to carry non-vegetarian food on the Metro as long as it was packed. As the bard says, all’s well that ends well. Especially if it ends with kababs and kheer!

Printer friendly page  
Send this article to Friends by E-Mail