Magic of the Hands

 Year: 2076 AD

After having served almost four glorious decades in various government departments and thereafter having lived a happy life with his family, it was time for Roopchand to depart. He was placed in a completely India made rocket and the take off was perfect. As he passed the earth’s troposphere, he opened his eyes and looked down once last time at the planet that he had tried to make better in his illustrious career. Sorry, it cannot be a planet, maybe a country or better a state that was his own and having worked in over seventy-five departments, he was assured of an unchallenged entry through the Pearly Gates. All his credentials had been vetted well in advance and he was embraced by His Holiness St. Peter who had a huge key dangling from his waist as he said, “Welcome Son. We look forward to you spending time in heaven in complete peace. No work, no worries, just rest in peace as they say there.”

After a good night’s sleep, Roop headed straight to the Heavenly Dining Hall. It was the cleanest place he had ever seen and decorated beautifully with flowers and shrubs on the outside. He picked up the tab on the table and selected a continental breakfast for himself. In no time three tiny spacecrafts landed on his table, dropped three plates with food and flew back to a place that possibly was the kitchen. Roop loved his food and was delighted when he took the first bite of the hotdog. He just could not hide the joy of eating the freshly made, delicious food with its gentle aroma. He next started eating the club sandwich. He had eaten this many a times at some of the top restaurants but none could match the taste of this sandwich. He could see the layers of fresh chicken, cheese, lettuce and tomato with a fine touch of mustard sauce. Roop felt full but he remembered what his mother had told him years ago of not wasting a morsel of the food that has been served. So, he now drew the plate with the apple pancake. One little bite and Roop’s head was completely blown off, “Is this for real?” he exclaimed.

Roop returned to his room overlooking a beautiful lake which was the biggest that he had ever seen. It stretched from east to west and north to south, much beyond his eyes could reach. The breeze blew gently and the birds sang melodiously. He fell asleep. Having worked hard all his life, he deserved a good sleep now and the Gods made sure that he got his dues in his afterlife. It was dusk by the time he woke up. He stretched a bit and then headed towards the dining hall once more for an early dinner. He looked at the menu which was unending. He picked a few of his past favourites and in no time the space-carts came flying towards him. Roop was amused and his happiness knew no bounds when the dishes were laid before him. He had ordered for multiple Mughlai dishes like paya soup, haleem and special chicken. He also got crispy tandoori rotis and by the time he finished his meal, his stomach felt overstuffed but he still asked for a malai firni that was served in a burnt-clay bowl. He burped aloud to the amusement of the other residents who were enjoying dinner. His fingers were all oily and no matter how much liquid soap he applied and rinsed, the oil and the aroma remained. For once Roop did not mind it for he had eaten the best possible dinner ever.

After a long walk around the lake, Roop hit the bed and slept like a baby. He was afraid that having overeaten the day before, he may have an upset stomach. Nothing of that happened, and in the morning, he once again felt the urge to eat some wholesome breakfast. During his work life, he had been the most honest man and eaten frugal meals. He remained slim and trim, something that helped him work energetically that won him kudos from people across the country. He realised that having now got a passage to heaven, he had to make up for all the difficult times he had faced earlier. This for him, was party-time and he accepted gleefully with outstretched hands. He once again walked into the dining room and placed his order of some Irani food. He wondered who was cooking these wonderful meals in Heaven’s kitchens. He made an attempt to enter the sanctum sanctorum but the Swiss Guards stationed there made it clear, “Sir, Einfahrt verboten!” Although Roop did not know Swiss German language, the crossed spears and the expression on the faces of the two tall guards when translated in plain English could only mean, “No Entry!” Roop did not wish to get into any confrontation here for he knew well that a transfer from heaven was something he was not really keen on. He raised his hands upwards in surrender and said, “Rest in Peace,” a phrase the residents of heaven would often chant.

Roop’s breakfast arrived and he now got busy eating one dish after another. There was keema-pav, kheema ghotala pav, bun-maska, caramel custard and sweet Irani masala chai. Each of these were finger-licking and lip-smacking, and our man was happy to be up above the world so high. As he had done the day earlier, Roop went back for his long afternoon siesta and woke up once again in the evening. Before going to the dining hall, he checked his weight on the scale. In one and a half days he had added a couple of kilos and now he felt like sending this news to his doctor on Planet Earth who always cribbed about him being underweight. Roop had turned from an angry-man to a hungry-man in a matter of a couple of days. He landed at the dining room but found the carte de menu missing. There was a screen at the serving counter with Ramyeon written in multiple languages. He asked some other people there and they clarified that this was the usual food in this kitchen. Roop was disappointed and went to St. Peter’s office and knocked.

“Come in son, what can I do for you?”

“Father, for the last two days, I had been enjoying some finger licking food. But this evening, all has changed. The other folks told me that there was some food festival for two days and hence the spread was so big. Now it is back to normal with bland food that will be served for all meals.”

“Son, what you have heard is correct. Let me see what all you had during the food festival …. Hmmm… you seemed to have enjoyed some wonderful stuff, a few of my personal favourites as well. So let me share the inside story about our special chefs who made the magic happen.”

“The breakfast on Day One was made by Rusi Yardegardi, a Parsi, who once owned Café Mondegar at Colaba, Mumbai. In the 1990s he was also credited with having asked Mario Miranda, the famous cartoonist, to do the sketches on the walls of the café that has been serving the best continental breakfast since 1932. It is a must go place for all locals of the city and the travellers across the globe. People would go in with great expectations and come out even more delighted for you will not find this food anywhere else.

“The dinner on Day One was made by none other than the legendary chef, Abdul Kareem who founded Noor Mohammadi Restaurant at Mohammad Ali Road, Mumbai in 1923. Since then, the place has been frequented by people of all strata for the best Mughlai food. Even celebrities walk in like commoners and enjoy the food. You remember the special chicken you had? That recipe called Sanju Baba Chicken was given by none other than film star Sanjay Dutt. The famous painter, Maqbool Fida Hussain, would go there often early in the mornings and had presented the owner with a sketch that is kept for all to see.”

Courtesy: Internet

“Finally, the breakfast you ate today was from Olympia Restaurant on Colaba once again and the chef who made the delicacies was Abdul Rahim Sulaiman. The restaurant has been serving people since 1918. Their signature dishes with their super-soft pavs and bun-maska are some things I ask people coming from Mumbai to pack for me on their way to heaven.”

“Now, Roop, since you closed these heritage eating places in Mumbai on grounds of hygiene and other shortcomings, we had these three legendary chefs downgraded from heaven to hell. We had invited them here just for the two days of Heavenly Food Festival. They now make the food in Hell’s Kitchen. The last of one such person is still around. He is Bablu, the famous phoochkawala from Kolkata. He is there in the kitchen right now. You can go there quickly before his phoochkas get over and he goes back to hell.”

Roop bolted to the kitchen where he got the remaining phoochkas or pani-puris as he called them. Most of the leftovers were broken but he enjoyed them and drank a couple of small bowls of the liquid kept in the big clay pot. Roop asked Bablu, “What is the secret of the secret behind the tasty phoochkas you serve?” Bablu raised his hands and said, “It is bherry simple, Saar. Bas inn haathon ka kamaal hai! (It is just magic of these hands). The phoochakas taste so good because I use my fingers while putting the mashed potatoes and chickpeas in the little crispy balls after giving them a gentle poke with my thumb and then dip them gently in the flavoured water in this pot before serving them in these katoris made from sal leaves. Business was good till one day a Corporation guy came and raised hue and cry over hygiene and asked me to wash my hands with liquid soap after every serving or use disposable gloves. The moment I started doing it, my customers missed the original taste and slowly dumped me. The magic of the hands was lost. In Hell’s Kitchen, I am once again serving freely.”

“Hmmm... the magic was truly in the hands. Got it Bablu. See you soon.”

Roop could not sleep that night. Next morning, he forced his way into the heavenly kitchen. The Swiss guards quickly overpowered him and he was taken to St. Peter who immediately issued him his seventy-sixth transfer order. Like his previous experiences, Roop accepted his transfer smilingly and moved on.

SS

Disclaimer: The blog is just for laughs with no intent to disrespect or hurt the sensitivities of anyone.