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“Bhelpuri Chai Snakes". Who could have
coined a name like that? Ugh! It made him feel like jumping out
of his skin. It was so revolting. Must be some crazy Korean or Chinese
serving snakes or someone desperately trying to attract attention.
That's what Suraj Patel had felt when someone had told him about
the new fast food joint. The words hummed in his head nearly, almost
all the time. Drummed in to his head.
Slowly, it struck him that snakes was how snacks are often jocularly
referred to in aamchi Mumbai. He chuckled. He liked the humour in
the words. Aamchi Mumbai of so long ago. Why, sometimes he realized
that he was talking with the same drawl and twang that could have
passed him off as an American. Bhelpuri and chai was such an old
fashioned word in uptown Manhattan where people guzzled beer and
wolfed down hamburgers and sometimes Coke and sandwiches.
Mumbaikars are so fond of calling salty, peppy, greasy, oily snacks,
snakes so popular among Mumbaikars in amchi Mumbai. Then, why on
earth in the middle of all the software mumbo jumbo that he did
as part of his job, day in and day out, why did the name Bhelpuri
Chai Snakes keep buzzing around in his head? It was a name board
that you could have missed in India, in Mumbai, but not in Manhattan.
Most of the Indian places that he knew and he had seen always had
prefixes and suffixes, some pompous sounding names. The Royal Cafe,
Cafe Royale, The Hindu Restaurant, The Nawab's Fantasy, The Marwari
Palace Thali, Goan Sonata, The Adyar Coffee House, Maharajah's Retreat...
he was used to seeing such exotic name boards.
This name board was strange! It shocked you! Not traditional, not
conventional. Why! In fact, it looked like someone had written it
himself or herself. It struck out incongruously with its' bright
red and purple coloured fonts, with little bindi like projections
marking every alphabet. It was curious how when one is out of a
country, one's eyes are frantically searching in the most unlikely
places for a little bit of India. Yes! That was what struck him.
The name board was a bright little bit of India in Manhattan. It
was so typically Indian, a place that he would never have dreamed
of stepping in to in Mumbai. But here, it was! Painting this drab
grey Manhattan roadside a bright, gaudy, zingy red. Yes! He shook
his head and smiled to himself. Trust an American to recreate India,
Mumbai chawl style. Red! A loud shade of red that literally shrieked!
Any other time, he would have thought some words were left out.
Like he thought to himself, if he had to give the same name to the
cafe, he would at least have taken care to give a prefix and a suffix
like The Bombay Bhelpuri Chai cafe or Bhelpuri Exotica or The Bhelpuri
Restaurant or may be even, The Great Bhelpuri Place or even Bhel
Corner. But in this little converted garage garden space, Bhelpuri
Chai Snakes sounded so perfectly appropriate.
He was tired of cooking his food. Eating the same food day in and
day out, week in and week out. Sandwiches and fruit salad or mixed
rice with boiled, unsalted vegetables. That's what he had been having
for nearly eight months now. He was saving money like many Indians
do who are overseas, forever converting the cost of every commodity
in to rupees. Forever searching for ways to cut costs. Lunchtime.
Today was one of those days when he had not felt like carrying his
lunchbox with him. Anyway, he thought to himself, time to take a
break. He strolled down to “Bhelpuri Chai Snakes” to find out whether
they were real Chinese serving real snakes or whether it was an
Indianized American or whether it was apna resourceful friend from
aamchi Mumbai who had simply got tired of writing code.
He went to Bhelpuri Chai Snakes and was puzzled to see that there
was quite a crowd all scattered and sprawled over the lawn. There
were no tables, no chairs, just a few wooden logs and slabs of stone.
There were no tables, no chairs, just a few wooden logs and slabs
of stone. There was a rather diminutive lady dressed in a typical
nine-yard sari with that typical nose ring that Maharashtrian women
are fond of wearing. She was wearing a Pune sari type of print with
their distinctive solid colours and had a lovely pair of Kohlapuris
on. He had been meaning to get a pair for himself just like that.
It looked so comfortable. May be the proprietor was away, he thought
to himself.
He was puzzled. She spoke to him in shudh Marathi. It was clear
that she ran the place. There were no helpers. He replied back in
English. She replied that she did not understand a word of English.
He was amazed. Floored. The lady was not merely surviving in Manhattan
without knowing a word of English. She was actually thriving! Running
a flourishing fast food joint! Now, he knew why the place was called
Bhelpuri Chai Snakes. Her name was Supriya Chemburkar.
He wondered how she had managed it. He was curious. Inspired if
you please. That the lady was carrying on such a flourishing business
in USA during the time of the great recession. He helped himself
to a plate of Bhelpuri and a cup of hot, lemon grass flavoured tea.
It was simply scrumptious!
The only person in this group of people who was standing out like
some kind of an old fashioned mannequin was the proprietor herself,
standing with a far away gaze. He watched her standing there, absorbed
in her world. Oblivious to the environment, to her surroundings,
to her appearance. A rather striking contrast to the name board
of the restaurant, a rather sharp contrast to the bright, effervescent
buoyant, crowd that kept floating in and floating out of this fast
food joint. That image of this lady stayed in his head.
There was a lot of junta around. A group of college students were
playing the tabla and some one was busy trying to do a bhangra jig
with a classical tabla tune. Fusion dance and music, he thought
to himself. In many ways the ambiance was just right.
This was the place to hang out. He felt it instinctively. He knew
it like some deep insight that whizzes through one's head. Like
some great inspirational quote. He looked around. Well, he decided,
since he had received the pay hike last month, it was time to spend
a little on himself. So, evening tea for him was now becoming a
regular habit at Bhelpuri Chai Snakes.
One evening, just as he was about to begin his delicious snack,
Supriya broke in to his reverie with the words, "Hi! Can I join
you? I have been observing you for the past six months now. You
are the only person in this place who has food all alone. Where
are all your friends? ".
"I don't have any”, he replied. “Odd isn't it?” He added. “I have
just moved in to my new job".
"You are just like me, I too am all alone here”. She smiled! Sparkling
white teeth and bright, friendly eyes beamed back at him ".
He gulped. This was the very first time that she had spoken to him.
Her English was flawless. The diction was just right.
What was this story that he had heard about she being a runaway
housekeeper from California who had escaped from a cruel Indian
family on a goods train and hitchhiked her way to Manhattan.
She said, "I know the story that's doing the rounds. I only created
it. You see I am doing my graduate course in marketing in New York
University and I value my privacy ".
"So, then what are you doing running a fast food corner?"
Well, the subject I have chosen for my dissertation work is about
correlating food preferences, colours with buying and spending preferences
for things Indian and rural among young Indians living in New York.
I have to meet a deadline. That's just two months from now. Desperate
ideas can sometimes be generated from desperate pressure.
He had done a course in marketing but this idea was simply brilliant!
He looked at her with admiration. She was brave. She had courage
that he so admired. He admired her self-confidence, her poise and
her savvy business sense.
He had been desperately trying to talk to her for over 6 months
now. The words always stuck in his throat. Most times all he had
been able to mumble had been, "Another bhelpuri please".
So, it had been day after day, week after week. A silent, look of
admiration. Every time, he had postponed starting a conversation
with her by telling himself that "Tomorrow, he would look at her
in the eye and talk to her. Ask her about her family and friends.
Sometimes, he told himself, it was enough that he could see her
from a distance, look at her unobtrusively. That was enough. A snack
time meet. He knew that that tomorrow would never come.
The next week when he stepped in, he smiled when he saw a slight
transformation in the name board. It now read, "The Great Bhelpuri
Chai Snake Eat out ". This time round, the name gave him a lovely,
zingy feeling! A nice, warm fuzzy feeling in his head. It was a
real delight for him to know that they did share a few things in
common, besides being single. She, like him was also fond of the
theatre. She too loved travelling, listening to music and trekking
in the woods. A bright, new hope glowed in his mind, daring him
to dream.
That day, when he reached office, he was in for a shock. His boss
informed him that the company was opening a new branch in Michigan.
He had been selected to head the new branch office. He didn't know
whether to laugh or cry. It was good news for him from his career
point of view but bad news for his fledgling love life. He began
to strongly contemplate the idea of refusing the promotion and staying
put in Manhattan. In the afternoon, when he voiced his plea to his
boss, he was taken aback to find that his boss simply would not
hear of it. He had to accept the promotion or else... Well, he pondered
about it.
May be, he could fly on weekends and still see Supriya. So, it was.
When he informed Supriya that he was likely to be transferred very
shortly, he was surprised to see that she was neither perturbed
nor upset. She looked calm and composed and in fact, had a rather
happy smile playing on her face. He wondered to himself, maybe these
feelings that he felt were his alone and Supriya was really happy
to see him off. Maybe she had another boyfriend and was really relieved
to be able to terminate the relationship in such a manner. Anyway,
he told himself, it was a good thing, that at least he knew all
this so early, much before he got really emotionally attached to
her. He told himself, that it was nice to have met her. Meeting
her and knowing her was enough.
The next week saw Suraj packing his bags and terminating his lease
arrangement with his landlord and clearly moving bag and baggage
to Michigan. That Sunday, when he went to see Supriya, he felt a
lump in his throat. He just couldn't speak. All he found himself
mumbling rather incoherently to her, in a few monosyllables was,
"Good to have met you, Supriya, I wish our friendship could have
blossomed in to a deeper and more permanent relationship". He had
expected her to say, "Yes! Suraj! I too wish and feel the same way".
Quite to his sorrow, she did not do anything like that, expect to
wish him a good farewell and success at his new job. She even had
a bright, cheerful smile on her face. Suraj told himself, he couldn't
blame her. They had barely known each other and besides she probably
had a lot of very interesting people in her class. He dwelled deep
on all the traits that he considered negative in himself. He was
not an entertaining conversationalist, he was not too good looking,
of average height and build, bespectacled, and with the early signs
of middle age creeping up on him, even though he was just 28. A
slight paunch, a few bald spots beginning to show signs of life,
spots of grey here and there. Well! He concluded! He didn't make
a very interesting or attractive soul mate. May, be he would meet
someone in Michigan. He was hopeful and this time he told himself,
he wouldn't wait for 6 months to speak his first lines. He would
say it the very first time, he sighted someone like Supriya. Someone
like Supriya, he told himself. Someone like Supriya, the phrase
kept drumming in his head.
During his second month, in Michigan, while strolling down the road,
about ten minutes away from his apartment, his heart gave a double
boom roar that he felt everybody around him could hear. He gaped
and gulped simultaneously. There was the same familiar signboard.
"The Great Bhelpuri Chai Snake Eatout" staring at him in the eye.
His heart literally lurched. He walked in.
Surpiya Chemburkar was there, standing at the entrance smiling and
waving out to him. She said, " Hi! Suraj, you know I have been thinking,
since this fast food joint has caught on so well in Manhattan, why
not start branches in other metros. I have employed an assistant
in Manhattan who is running the branch quite efficiently ".
He looked at her silently, amazed at her half casual, half jocular
way of talking. He smiled at her, a broad ear-to-ear grin! They
grinned at each other. "You know what Suraj, I have been meaning
to tell you this, for a very, very long time, I really care about
you!"
Suraj swallowed hard, once again, the simple words that he had meaning
to tell her for such a long time, were finally spoken by her.
Suraj spoke the words that he resigned himself to saying only in
his dreams, "You know I have never met someone like you with whom
I feel so perfectly comfortable and with whom I share so many things
in common. Most of all, what I like most about our relationship
is that we can just be us. And that's what I value most.” Then,
he said, quite abruptly, “Supriya, will you marry me?”
He looked straight in to her eyes. She nodded, “I was hoping you
would feel the same way about us. Yes! Of course! Suraj.”
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