On the 7th of February 2012, Renjan took Susan and me to a five-star hotel in Kumarakom. He wanted to make it big as it was the 25th wedding anniversary of his parents.
I feel like writing on the charm of Kumarakom but let me restrict myself to the five-star experience. I need not tell you of the exotic ambience of a luxury hotel. And, if you know me, I need not tell you that I was feeling like a fish out of the pond. Yet I remained excited (and hopeful) at the thought of some yummy food. It was time for lunch and I searched the typical "meals ready" board but was to be found nowhere. Inside the restaurant I scrolled through the tempting menu which boasted of native food to Chinese to continental. I announced my decision for Kerala meals (oonu). After some browsing I saw "plain rice" in one page. In another page was "Avial". Else where there was "Sambar" and so on. Each item was followed by a three digit number. "Some code number", I told others with authority. But soon to my shock I realised that the 500 following "Avial' was its cost in Indian currency. A small bowl of "Moru Kachiathu" just for 450 ! That I didn't faint is a mystery. Probably I was dreaming of the most tasty food over the globe soon appearing before me.
And the story begins. All the items appeared on the table and I "approached" the "Moru Kachiathu" (MK) with great reverence. When it tasted like anything but MK I blamed my taste buds. When "Avial" too disappointed I excused my taste buds. When "Sambar' turned out to be an apology for it I realised that my taste buds are as sensitive as ever. The MK in any small little road side hotel anywhere in Kerala should be hundred times better. I thought of Thomas Chettan of the PG hostel and Thomachan of the CMS college canteen. What they serve without any tom-toming was the real taste of the land. Disappointed with the oonu, I encroached into Renjan's plate to grab a little "Bhatura". "Bhatura this"? I exclaimed. I felt like kneeling before the old man wearing a Gandhi-cap on the Agra cantonment railway station platform who was a bhatura vendor. It was in 1977 that I first had a taste of bhatura from this man. He kept shouting "Chole Bhature" even as he was busy making them to meet the ever increasing demand-supply gap. That old man cannot be alive today, but the taste still lingers on my tongue. (The next best Bhatura, I had in Renja's company at an Allahabad hotel in 2010. I forgot the name of the hotel).
Having expressed my disappointment and anguish, I think, I should be a little realistic. The place is not for people like me. (But there is no harm if MK tastes like MK??). The place is for the Forbes listed Indians and not for "native indians". Let them pay @ 500 for MK and those dishes with vernacular names but insulting tastes !!!
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After the five star escapade, I escaped into India from that island of luxury. Back on Indian soil a terrific idea flashed through my brain. You are sure to exclaim "what an idea sirji"!! After reading this (indeed it will be read) Jaipal Reddy is sure to summon me to Delhi to hear more of this brand. Poor fellow is struggling with the oil bills.
Now the fantastic Idea.
The rich and the super rich pay 500 for MK at luxury hotels. Let them. In fact they should. Now let us extend this argument to other places, for instance, the petrol station. Some come there on their "Hamara Bajaj". Even the ageless "Lamby" may be seen there. Yet others come driving Audi or BMW. Let there be a differential price structure. Why should the Audi-man paying 500 for a small bowl of MK get petrol or diesel at subsidised rates? Why should the Audi-man indiscriminately contributing to global warming in a variety of ways be encouraged to do that with government subsidy??
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After my retirement from CMS college, with nothing to do, such fantastic ideas come fleeting to my mind.
What can I do?
Will someone find a job for me???
