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.”
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| 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.
