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The Cup that cheered:
Or
The Indian Coffee House musings
Feb 15. 2009
On a sunny afternoon, a small group of Central College students cut through Cubbon Park, past the Victoria statue and stopped at the flowery traffic roundabout, Oriental Circle. The cyclists took in the sight in front of them. The elegant South Parade, like the rest of Cantonment, was like a foreign locale. Solar hatted red, sun-burnt individuals and white women in summery flowery gowns were on the boulevard. Cruising on the road regally were the latest imported cars. On the elevated promenade, ladies were riding horses moving past flowering shrubs and trees.
The awe-struck students were out to catch a matinee, either at Plaza or Paul’s Rex. Then they’d hit the elegant coffeehouse for an English omelet, buttered toast, and finally end it with an aromatic freshly ground South Indian filter coffee.
That’s how the man who was to become the Chairman of the Coffee Board, Dr HGV Reddy, 87, remembers his college days and the ‘India Coffee House’.
It was a time when ‘superior Arabica and gourmet Robusta coffee’ were cultivated in high altitude Chikmagalur, Hassan and Kodagu. In New Delhi, the commerce and foreign trade department planned to export the produce. But it was a time of low international prices. So instead, the department decided to enter and expand the home market. It was quite a task. Less than 2 per cent of the coffee was consumed locally. Nevertheless, it was decided to promote the habit of coffee drinking.
By then, in 1942, an act of Parliament, the British Raj had constituted the Coffee Board, to play ‘friend, philosopher and guide’ to coffee growers by working closely with cultivators in Karnataka, Kerala and Tamil Nadu, and the smaller players from Andhra Pradesh, Orissa and the seven North-eastern states.
As part of the promotion, the board set up a chain of kiosks all over the country. Besides the hot beverage, coffee powder was retailed in them.
In addition to coffee and ‘English snacks’, the chain gradually included masala dosa and idli-vada complete with sambar and chutney. This south Indian fare became a hit with North Indian and other customers.
In the late 60s, the coffee house on New Delhi’s Janpath served uddina vada, the size of a large doughnut with tomato ketchup as relish. About that time, the workers went on a strike. But faced with legions of irate customers demanding their favorite brew, the workers had little choice but to serve customers. They did this at a specially set up a tent in an empty open space in Connaught Place. The southern delicacies continued to roll out even as the management-workers’ ‘negotiations’ continued.
To help the large number of employees who had lost their jobs, a Communist leader of the time, AK Gopalan established the India Coffee Board Worker’s Co-operative Society, which owned and managed the chain, dubbed ‘Indian Coffee House’. Incidentally, the first society was formed in Bangalore. In time, ‘India Coffee House’ became one of India’s best known and much loved brand names.
By then, in Calcutta, the cavernous Albert Hall or College Street coffee house commissioned in 1942, was running full – most often with lively social interactions brought about both by a caffeine-high and intellectual prowess of the participants. Free exchange of ideas on everything under the sun - books, movies, soccer, politics and swadeshi, art, sex and slander, reverberated inside the hall. In between, the chatter there was the din of outside traffic, the noisy whirring of the ancient fans. In this setting, old turbaned waiters moved around silently carrying hot cups of coffee to tables - for further stimulation or to people just sitting and reading or entertaining one another, or passing the time.
And so it was in Bangalore. The inexpensive, no-frills if mildewed establishment became a meeting place for students, journalists, artists, writers and business people. Long-winded discussions freely flowed over its tables. The weary waiters kept a deadpan look even as they deftly dodged the wild gesticulating hand or the pounding fist, to place orders on tables.
Be that as it may be, the chain today is caught in the tidal wave known as globalization. It’s not just the Café Coffee Days, Baristas, Brios, or Starbucks that threaten the old order. ‘It is a new world – of rising establishment costs on the one hand and cell phones, SMS, blogs, internet and computer-savvy youngsters with a different mind-set that is hurting the traditional low-price, high volume businesses,’ a friend tells me, ‘Just as the bougainvillea, benches and trees on the MG Road and the old movie halls and 3 Aces have folded up long ago but remain fresh in memory, so will I am afraid, someday, the ICH on MG Road. But for the moment, let’s have one more coffee. ‘Here’s looking at you, kid. Cheers!’
London beckons Indians with a Namastey
Or
London – an Epicurean delight.
Feb 8, 2009
On a recent visit to London, we saw Indian faces everywhere. At Aldwych Theatre, at a performance of Bergstein's Dirty Dancing we heard Indian voices with an American accent. At the museums and galleries -- Tate and National Portrait Gallery, there were hordes of them. On a guided tour of Lord's, 'the home of cricket', a couple was whispering to each other in Kannada! At every 'touristy spot' or swanky fine dining (The Fat Duck – rated by Michelin in 2005, as the best restaurant in the world) and posh waterholes, they were there – the young, upwardly mobile desi or NRI. Nattily outfitted in jacket and jeans, they are the cynosure of all eyes (and minds) in the Central financial and business districts of City of London and Canary Wharf. Clearly, Indians have arrived in every sense of the term.
In the mid 19th century, the situation was quite different. At that time, only a choice few - young princes or the new rich, took the steamer to Britain primarily to pursue studies or hone skills. Even as the Indian elite disembarked at the London sea port, the largest in the world, thousands of the island’s sons walked up the gangplank to pursue exciting careers and dreams in the distant land that was being hailed as the jewel in the crown. Those taking the eastward bound voyage were essentially military personnel, and those connected with trade and commerce. In addition, Britain’s brightest and cleverest administration staff, and a large contingent of the clergy took the boat. For everyone there was something in India.
Today in a process that seems like 'reverse colonization', thousands of bright-eyed Indians go for studies to London, hundreds migrate, plane-loads arrive as tourists, and many with deep pockets, splurge like there's no tomorrow, and in the process have replaced the Japanese as the biggest spenders in the UK. In recent times, savvy business individuals, Corporate India and even Bollywood are making headlines for their daring strategic 'mergers and acquisitions', take-over of hot real estate properties – and generally behaving like young James Boswell in 1762, who left home to 'conquer London' and make it 'his dining-room and playground, his club and his confessional'.
Why do Indians have this fascination for London? It probably has to do with the long historical connection, Indians take to the megapolis like ducks to water. Language and culture, cricket, entertainment from theatre, movies, television, music, and the arts, and such influences have made legions of middle-class Indians familiar with the British Isles. In addition, quite a few Indians have cut their teeth in 'English' ways at hill schools and educational institutions, plantations and estates, companies, and gymkhanas and clubs.
For most Indians, London has many familiar and back-home comforts – restaurants from upscale Chutney Mary, Memsaheb On Thames, Zaika and Cinnamon Club to purse friendly Masala Zones, Quilon and Agni that serve everything from samosas and kebabs to stir-fried banana flower and the best 'butter chicken tikka masala' to literary every kind of Indian curry on tap! London is an epicurean delight for the gourmet Indian.
Besides food, many of London's monuments and edifices invariably evoke childhood memories. Westminster and the Big Ben or the London Bridge or the Tower of London…are all familiar icons to most everyone who has schooled in English. At the National Portrait Gallery, a twinkling Jerome K. Jerome can transport many back to innocent younger days of much amusement and laughter. Standing by the portrait or by the Thames, it is hard not to think of the shenanigans of George, Harris, and the narrator, to say nothing of the dog, Montmorency, on the famous Thames boating holiday.
Then again, at Highgate Hill, a statue of Dick Whittington and his black cat, remind viewers that even if the streets are not all paved with gold, there are many opportunities for the enterprising individual. London's continues to be a thriving hub for international commerce with a 9 million labour force and 300 languages spoken. A situation well factored in business plans by the likes of Lakshmi Mittal, the Hindujas, Naresh Goyal, Anil Agarwal, the Tatas and such. To be sure, the Indian Diaspora seems to be flourishing in several important arenas of British life - business, law, media, medicine, engineering, IT, you name it. As most readers know, Corporate India is well on its way to becoming the largest foreign investor in the UK.
Besides cricket, dosas and kebabs, Sir James Barrie, and Three Men in a Boat, there are hundreds of other scenes from the movies, theatre, textbooks and literature that come alive to perceptive Indians visiting London.
The London tourism department continues to go to great lengths to promote the 2000-year-old city and its rich history and culture. Take the Tower of London. Great efforts are continuously being made to relate the castle’s history to today’s rushed times. Speaking in modern English, actors playing ‘Anne Boleyn' or her King, go about mixing with commoners, seeking their patience and understanding. ‘I am not a witch,’ she says with a pained look on her pretty face and striking a chord with Indian women audiences, ‘My sin, if it is a sin, good people, is not producing a male heir.’
Hundreds of Indian movie-goers visit London with the explicit purpose of seeing and ‘experiencing’ the locales where Bollywood shot its scenes or whole movies. For the record, more than 200 Indian movies in the recent past have had song and dance numbers or key sequences shot in London’s landmark sights such as Buckingham Palace, Piccadilly, Trafalgar Square, London Eye and Hyde Park.
Amitabh Bachan fans for instance, recalling the shots of the spacious Waterloo Station in Shaad Ali's Jhoom Barabar Jhoom (2007) rush there in droves…and are disappointed that instead of snazzy dancers and booted long-legged divas sober, everyday individuals populate the station - waiting for trains or working crosswords or going about with umbrellas, laptop bags or groceries in brown paper bags! Its tad disappointing but that doesn’t stop movie-buffs from coming to the station and reliving cinematic moments.
Cashing in on this fad, several local agencies and entrepreneurs have put together guides, booklets and even maps to help Indian movie fans to navigate the city and zero-in on places where Aksar (2006), Baghban (2003), Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge (1995), Bhagam Bhag (2006), Cheeni kum (2007), and such hits were shot.
For reasons such as this, jets to London go packed with Indians. Besides, individual high-spenders on holiday or sightseeing, professionals from diverse areas of interest, and large business conglomerates continue to pull in. They may not be the immediate answer to all the ills plaguing the English economy but clearly, their contribution as the second largest source of inward investment is having a positive impact, even as London gets ready for mega events such as the 2012 Olympics.
Tripping on Trippa
Sat Jan 03, 2009
Way back, in medieval times, the rich and famous in Florence dined in style on all manner of game meats and vegetables and spice-flavored oils and breads and wines. While the elite feasted on prime cuts of meats, the poor folk had the left-overs such as the offal for their main course. Instead of consigning it to the garbage bin, the hardy, working class imaginatively turned the 'spare parts' into a series of delicious Tuscan dishes. Recently in the vicinity of Santa Maria Novella and Cappelle Medicee, I happened on one of such exotica. By accident.
It was lunch time. Heady herb fennel driven aromas of cooking enticed me in the direction of a stainless steel push-cart. Burly men in rolled-up sleeves hovered around it. Street grub, I said. And a chance to mingle with the locals. The men were conversing in rapid-fire Italian - gesticulating, laughing and devouring burgers. Somewhere, the Beatles’ Day Tripper was playing in the background. When the vendor looked up at me, I pointed to the 3 Euros pane di trippa - the day’s specialty that everyone was ordering.
Was it a red-meat burger? Unlikely. Beef is pricey in Italy. Probably inexpensive chicken mince, I thought as I sunk my teeth into the large sandwich for the second bite. The filling had tasty tender meat in thick green garlicky salsa and generous lashings of spiced olive oil. As I licked the dripping, I wondered about the tangy sauce. But it was the meat that intrigued me. Was it rabbit? An old man with a cigarette dangling from his lips, read my thoughts and said, 'Abomasums!' I smiled back, not quite understanding him. 'Mi scusi? I managed finally. He shook his head and pointed to his pot-belly, 'Lampredotto!' Still not getting him, I turned away with a Si, Si, Grazie, and tried to concentrate on the messy Toscana delicacy.
About then, an American family stopped by the cart to take pictures…and play spoil-sport. As the flash hit me, I realized my nose, chin and mouth was smudged with red sauce and strings of green capsi. As I wiped the mess off with a paper serviette, I saw their little girl, excitedly jumping up and down. “Whoa! Mom! Isn’t that the burger dad was telling us about? The burger with cow stomach in it?!' That’s when I lost appetite … and the half-eaten trippa to the Florentine bin.
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