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A LUNCH TO REMEMBER- A SLICE OF NAVAL LIFE (Sreedevi Krishnan)

Published on 17 May, 2020
A LUNCH TO REMEMBER-  A SLICE OF NAVAL LIFE  (Sreedevi Krishnan)
“As you know we are hosting a lunch to Admiral Krishnan and his family ,day after tomorrow and if all of you agree to bring a dish each, we can make this lunch really special ,a lunch to remember. What do you say?”

That was Mrs. Kapoor, wife of Chief Hydrographer Commodore Kapoor, talking to all of us , the wives of Naval Officers, in her tastefully decorated living room in Dehradun.
“That’s really a great idea Mrs. Kapoor, but we have to make something really nice, something exotic”, said   Mrs. Fernandez,   tossing her bobbed hair.
“Well, how many guests are expected Mrs. Kapoor?   Aren’t Army officers too coming with the Admiral for lunch?”

“You want us to bring vegetarian a non vegetarian?”
“I’m afraid this is really short notice for day after tomorrow lunch .Can you arrange a transport or at least a chauffeur to shop around for the ingredients?”

Volley of questions from the enthusiastic ladies sitting beside me.
“Oh   dear!   I’m so happy about your warm response, hmmm, I agree that it’s a short notice, but what to do?  Well, my cook will make the main items like rice, chapattis, some dishes and dessert. Yes, the Army top brass too is expected, altogether there’ll be about thirty to thirty five, let’s say, forty guests. If you want any help for shopping, that too can be arranged’,   Mrs Kapoor smiled  & continued, her hands slicing the air, to make her point clear,  ‘There shouldn’t be any repetition of dishes. So, it’s important that we decide the dish & stick to it. That’s why I requested you all to come here and discuss it.”

“I’ll bring baked fish, the only dish my cook is confident of making perfect, remember, you had it in our house for dinner, Mrs. Kapoor? The only problem is my cook is little fussy about the right type o f fish”. That was Mrs. Fernandez again.

“Oh, baked fish is really ideal, it was so delicious,” agreed Mrs. Kapoor
“My mother’s here luckily, she‘s an expert in Punjabi dishes. I’ll bring Palak paneer”, a beaming Mrs. Wadhera said.
“Look, I’m going to bring curd rice, which is a must for any South Indian meal,” said, Mrs Raman emphatically.

I looked at the cheerful, confident faces of the ladies with a mixture of awe admiration and even envy. Soon their faces looked blurred, their voice floating from a distance, the tastefully decorated living room with its carpet & rare artifacts was whirling before my eyes like Brij Maharajah’s Kathak dance & I felt a loud drum beating in the place, where my heart should have been.

‘Cooking   a dish for the VIPS? Oh God, another threat   to my one year old marriage looming large in the horizon? How would I escape from this tight corner?’
 Suddenly I heard Mrs. Fernandez’ voice, as though coming from a deep well.
“After all, the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, Admiral Krishnan can’t be different, let’s all try to enter his heart day after tomorrow.” everyone laughed except me.

My mind raced back to the day when, I had quoted this to my colleagues in my College & added with a tinge of pride, “Luckily the way to my fiancé’s heart is not through his stomach; I hate cooking and you know what, he said, I don’t have to cook for him at all”
Yes, when confessed about my hatred for cooking, Krish laughed and said, “You don’t have to cook. I can of course afford a cook for us”

After marriage, we could not get quarters in Visakhapatnam. So, to retain the Warden’s quarters, I continued my job as a lecturer in the woman’s college and Warden of the women’s hostel in Vizianagaram, where my husband could come from Visakhapatnam every evening and stay in my quarters. Weekends we spent in good hotels. After a year, he was transferred to Dehradun. As we had no quarters there too, we settled in a hired accommodation, with our one month-old baby. And I was forced to start my experiments with cooking, barely a month ago.

First day, I made leathery, shapeless chapattis and curry with mashed potatoes, adding salt and pepper generously into it .One look at the food, my husband suggested that we would eat out, to my great relief .Second day too, the same story was repeated, but  the third day he lost control at the sight of my  chapathis  and potato curry  and thundered, “ What’s this?  What do you take me for? I’m hungry

I can’t afford to go to hotel every day, shame on you, can’t cook a simple meal.”
“Come on, did n’t I tell you that I can’t cook & you said’’ … before I could complete, he screamed,

“I must have said so many things, I did not mean. I must’ve said, you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever set eyes on, did you believe that, eh? Wasn’t I supposed to be in love then?  But, how long do you expect me to live on love & fresh air?  Listen, you’re going home tomorrow .Go home, learn cooking and come back after a month.”
I could not believe my ears. That’s what exactly I wanted. What a relief, no more sleepless nights, my mother could keep the wailing baby while I sleep, no more the most scary task of bathing the baby with her neck swinging like a pendulum, good food, good climate, what more can I ask for?

“That’s a good idea. My mother can look after the baby & I can learn cooking in a couple of months. Of course I’ll miss you.”

My Cheshire cat grin & talk infuriated him further.    So, you’ve hopes of going to your mother, who could not teach you the basics all these years! I’m sending you to my , ‘M.Y’ mother ,who is an expert in vegetarian food; listen carefully, you’ve two options, either produce a simple meal, rice, sambar,  rasum and vegetables for tomorrow’s  lunch or go to Coimbatore  to learn  cooking,”,  the finality of  his tone silenced me. We both starved that night .He repeated his threat even while mounting his bike next morning, to go to his office.  I cried my eyes out…..(Feminists & soldiers in petticoat!  kindly forgive me, I’m talking about three decades ago when women’s rights, gender equality, reversal of roles etc were not much talked about)

After an hour’s futile tears, I went to a kindly neighbor & bared my soul to her.  Firmly refusing her offer to cook the prescribed menu for lunch, I requested her to come to my place and instruct me to cook. I followed her instructions and shocked my husband with a proper South Indian lunch-……………

So, I just about learnt to cook an ordinary meal a month ago and how could I ever dream of producing an exotic, out of the ordinary dish for the Admiral and his entourage?

“Oh my, you don’t look quite well. How’s your baby?  You must be pretty lonely away from home”, Mrs. Fernandez commented looking intensely at my face, which I’m sure I must have looked like a living nightmare. I remembered that I was a mute spectator so far.  I had to think fast & tell them what I was going to bring.
I forced a smile and managed to mumble, “I’m fine, thanks Mrs. Fernandes. I was worried about my baby. It’s her feeding time now and she’s on my breast milk.”

“Dear me! I forgot you got a small baby. Actually, we should leave this young girl alone, from this dish-bringing business. Poor thing, she has no cook & got a small baby to be looked after too”
I could hear sympathetic clucking & hissing noises around me ,as though the greatest tragedy in a woman’s life is , to have a baby & no cook. Anyway, they all unanimously agreed to exempt me from the dish- bringing. But, somehow I felt miserable about their demonstration of pity, sympathy & kindness and my face( I think, my face is my worst enemy!!) must  have betrayed my hurt  feelings .

“I suggest you bring sweet pans, say, buy about 40 pans, on your way for lunch,” a resourceful Mrs. Fernandez said, laughing.

“Oh, yes, sweet pan would add a great finale to our great lunch,” Mrs. Raman said tactfully and everybody nodded approval.
That night, I stayed awake, sleepless & dreamless in Dehradun. Call it what you like, my youthful arrogance, pride or vanity, by morning I had made up my mind to take a dish, Aviyal for Admiral’s lunch.

I handed a list of vegetables to be brought, to my shocked husband.
“Are you crazy? Aviyal for Admirals lunch?, we would buy pans and go.”

Mimicking my husband’s talk a month ago, I said,   “Look, I have two options, either to skip this lunch or to take Aviyal with me”.

Without another word, the vegetables were brought. But, much to his annoyance, he had to go a second time to the market, to get fresh coconut, as I was not satisfied with the desiccated coconut he brought.

The next morning, I prepared Aviyal, ignoring the doubting, peeping Tom’s running commentary, holding our baby.
“Aren’t drumsticks clumsy to eat?  Sure, yam would be scratchy, why did you pluck the leaves from our hedge to put in your great preparation?  I’m really getting nervous.”

Clad in a blue sambalpuri sari with matching filigree accessories, triumphantly I perched on the bike with Aviyal in my best China.
By the time I reached Commodore Kapoor‘s residence, other ladies were already settled comfortably in the living room.  I confidently walked towards Mrs. Kapoor and asked her where I should place my dish.

“Oh, dear, you too brought a dish?, leading me to the huge dining hall, she remarked. I had a quick glance at the elaborately laid table with its decorative table cloth, designer crockery, an array of dishes with impressive fancy titles. Even the curd rice looked eye- catching, with artistically arranged red roses carved out of tomatoes & mint leaves against the pure white background.

“What’s the name of your dish?, asked Mrs. Kapoor.
For a moment, I wish the ground beneath my feet caved in and I disappeared like Sita. Whatever Shakespeare said, ‘what’s in a name, a rose by any other name would smell as sweet”, is nonsense. I could have at least named my humble Aviyal some impressive title like God’s own Country Delight or Vegetables in Coconut Paste or something like that. How am I to tell Mrs. Kapoor, that too a foreigner, the most unimpressive name of Avial. Sensing my hesitation, with a gentle wave of her hand, she said,” Never mind, we just keep it nameless,” & my avial was kept in an insignificant corner of the table.

The guests started pouring in. Soon after introductions, Miss. Krishnan admired my sari.  Mrs. Khanna too complimented that I looked very pretty. I almost forgot about my avial. Mark Twain once remarked, “I could live on a good

 Compliment for about two weeks.” So, I should be able to manage with the compliment for at least about two hours, till the lunch was over. I talked confidently; even narrated our love story to a few interested listeners, including Miss Krishnan.

When the distinguished guests were led to the dining hall for buffet lunch, Admiral looked admiringly at the joint efforts of the Officers’ wives in Dehradun to make the VVIP’s gastronomic experience to new zeniths. He helped himself with a few items on the table.  Suddenly he exclaimed, “Ah,   Aviyal here!! What a surprise!”  & he tasted little aviyal & said, “Fantastic, tastes soooo good, c’ mon, General, try this dish, a typical south Indian dish” . Soon, the guests were tasting Aviyal  & agreeing with the Admiral that   it was ‘ fantastic,’ ‘great’  & ‘extremely tasty’. I heard Admiral asking , “Who made Aviyal so perfectly, unbelievable!”,  a special introduction  followed  & all eyes ( including  my  husband’s eyes, gleaming with pride ) fell on me . I blinked my eyes several times to make sure that I was not dreaming.  By a quirk of fate, my humble, poor, nameless dish pushed me to the center stage & brought me instant fame &admiration, (What if it lasted only for a day, fame is fame however short-lived it is).  Many of the ladies wanted the recipe of my great dish.

Finally, when I took leave from Mrs. Kapoor, she squeezed my hand gently & said, “Thank you dear, for making this lunch, a lunch to remember”
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Ramarao VENKATA Garimella 2020-05-19 11:53:53
A good story that held my interest till the end.
Dr.S.sujatha 2020-05-20 14:49:05
The thoughts,the preperation for lunch and the excitement to take an Indian dish and making all others like it was a great accomplishment..
Sadhana 2020-05-22 21:45:27
Amazing narrative, simple humor, excellent story, people reading it would be transformed to a different era.
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