During student life sinful living for us was only in the realms of fantasy and what was in the pocket supported an occasional binge at a road-side eatery where food was good, so long as we were not finicky about the ambience and cleanliness. I dont believe any of us had seen a five-star hotel or a really upmarket restaurant in a good city. So, the range of our gastronomical imagination never took us beyond what we could actually see on Thuthukudi streets (or may be Madurai), in terms of the class of the restaurant. In that context, Indian Coffee House (ICH, for short) was probably the equivalent of a 5-star eatery for us those days. ICH was located, as most people know, next to Sridhara Vilas and that suited most of us since that fell smack in the middle of the town when we criss-crossed from one end to another for whatever inane reason. Year 1970 and place, Thuthukudi!!
They had nice tables with chequered, red-white table cloth and comfortable, low chairs. The waiters wore white trousers, white cotton coats and white `Gandhi' caps made of thick cotton. This ensemble definitely elevated the ranking of ICH a few notches in our perception, because those were the days when waiters in more humble restaurants moved about with veshti in half mast, a shirt and a napkin on the shoulders, with the ubiquitous pencil daintily poised behind one ear. The ambience in ICH was much better than any other restaurant I had visited those days. As a result, for most of us, ICH became the benchmark insofaras our vision of fine-dining was concerned. Those were the ways of the uninitiated and callow youth that we were, who had not seen better; but what was in the domain of the unknown did not affect us and ICH retained the prime slot for long.
Much as I try, I cannot recall having eaten anything else in ICH, other than their iconic Masala Dosai. The dosai itself was just outstanding, probably one of the best I had eaten. But the way it was presented and the camaraderie with which it was done by that little rascal Ramadas (he was our Aasthana waiter, whenever we visited) enhanced the whole eating experience, as to-day's marketing guru would have opined! Ramadas was all of 5 feet, chirpy as a bird and he knew how to keep a customer. I would have gladly certified that `he was an asset to the establishment' if anyone had asked!! While dealing with Ramadas one felt as if he was your personal valet for the limited time and the very idea made one euphoric, especially considering the fact that the depleted coffers at one's disposal boasted all of about 1 rupee or so. I dont even remember
Ramadas going to another table when we were around; he would chat about college; about tennis (he knew we played at the club nearby, often); and cricket (most of our celebrations of victories were at ICH). So the rapport was absolutely brilliant. And a few times a few of us had fallen a tad short of dough and had to request him to `adjust' the bill accordingly and he obliged without blinking an eye-lid. You
could expect that kind of `service' if you were a heavy tipper, but he knew we were just about scrounging the bottom and would give him a small tip when we could. That endeared him to us for ever. But, whenever we ate with my friend's brother (who was into business at that time), we ensured that Ramadas got a heavy tip
and that kept Ramadas going for some time.
Now, going back to the presentation part, ICH was the only joint where the masala dosai came quartered, in 4 pieces. It had a crisp, golden brown crust, just so right, with a filling that was partial to onion and chillies rather than potato and tasted very different in some indescribable way. And it would come to you in a plate, cut into 4 pieces, with a hint of butter lingering somewhere inside. And the crust/mavu was a bit thicker than the other restaurants and that made the whole dosai a bit heavier and easier to carve into pieces. Now, even
though the dosai came with the usual accompanying suspects, chutney and sambar, one never really needed those; almost as if the dosai was arrogant enough to tell us `you dont those silly crutches to enjoy me!'. We just succumbed to the appeal earnestly. And Ramadas was always there till the first few morsels glided in and the verdict was pronounced. Despite that one being our 256th dosai, he was still anxious to know whether they got it right!! I believe that made for the consistent quality of the product in ICH.
The only other thing we had in ICH always was the cuppa! Very good filter coffee it was and we always felt like Wooster after a sumptuous Jeeves breakfast, when we were done! And we paid something like a princely 1 rupee for this whole orgasmic experience!! The only time when the fare varied was when the aforesaid friend's brother, after a game of tennis at IOC, smilingly told me `Raju, you played well today;
so take me to ICH'. I had absolutely no hesitation in saying yes, because despite the way it started, the friend's brother paid up the bill always. On those occasions, the only change was we had 2 masala dosais each, instead of the usual, since Mani could support a few more of those!
Once a couple of friends, Mohan, Raghavan and I were already inside ICH with our cycles parked out. We had seen Kannamani, another friend, breezing past us in the opposite direction in a hell of a hurry; we did not know whether he saw us or not and we were a bit perturbed because we had money only for 3 dosais and coffees and there was no way of stretching things even a bit. So, as we sat down, Raghavan said `ippa Kannamani vandhudaporaan' and chuckled. We chose to ignore that warning at our own peril. The dosais had just arrived, and lo and behold, Kannamani did make his appearance with an effusive `Kannamani Vandhachu'! We were flabbergasted and asked him how he knew we were in ICH. He said to me `with your horse standing outside, how can anyone not know you guys were here'? He was referring to my cycle from the 1920s (my grandfather's - it had a Royce dynamo and other attractive `imported' features),
which was a foot taller than all the other cycles and had an imposing presence anywhere! We had to scrounge and ask Ramadas to make some `adjustment' once more, for Kannamani had all of 25 paise on him for the repast!
ICH shut down sometime soon after I left, probably. I dont know exactly when. Also, I heard that Ramadas became a rickshaw puller and was finally involved in a murder case. Ramadas and a murder?? I wish I could find out where he is now...would love to take care of his requirements for those simple, but lovely gestures of his during those fantastic visits to ICH.
The best tribute to ICH was that, as long as it was around, some of us refused to step into Sridhara Vilas, despite the latter being touted as a better family restaurant by our parents!!
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