Chapter 5 - The one with the push cart

So we come to the push cart. Food as you have seen seems to be playing a central part in my life, off late. Its like sleep…its never a big deal unless your not getting any. So the lack of good home cooked food has made sure that I am on the constant lookout for 1) cheap , 2) healthy and 3) accessible food. And it must include some good vegetables (its just a phase of mine). And I found just the place. At a good 25 minutes walk from my house, this place is at the event horizon of my third condition but its worth every sweat drop oozing out my forehead and every shoe bite on my heel. Not to mention the chaffing in unmentionable places (jeez…I have got to get my mind out of the gutter).

Right opposite the main entrance to the Rock Fort temple is a small bylane filled with hundreds of shops. Congestion is an understatement. Sardines have it good compared to this. Little shops selling everything from clothes to bidhis to jewellery. A mini Mylapore with a hill in the middle. And as the saying goes, if Rockfort cannot go to the restaurant, the restaurant will go to Rockfort. Enter the push carts. Meals on wheels. Cruisin’ Cuisine. The gluttons perambulator.

It all starts with a nice little ritual. The first day my friend took me over there, around 8pm in the evening (only dinner is served), the “Iyer Mama” was just setting up shop. Its appropriately called the “Iyer Kadai”, of course. Hey! Nobody said the Indians were known for their originality! After off-loading all the “andaa’s” and “yelai’s” onto his pushcart from an auto (no cooking is done on the street, its all home cooked), he quickly pulls out a small ‘yelai’, scoops a big helping of “dhadhojanam” (or thayir saadam, curd rice for you uneducated people) onto it, lights incense, sticks it in the middle of the rice and then raises the whole yelai as an offering over his head, saying some prayers, looking towards the temple on top of the hill. That done, he places the yelai in one corner of his push cart. He then pulls out another yelai, heaps it with different food and hands it over to the waiting old beggar on the side. Charity before business. He then wipes his hands on his lungi, turns to his paying customers and says, “Cholunga Saar! Enna Saapudiringe?”

These happen to be the very words that God utters when he welcomes you to Paradise.

A multitude of “variety rices”, uthapams, idli’s, chutneys, sambhars, poriyals, appalams, sweets, and pongals lay bare the quintessentially heart warming nature of South Indian comfort food, that drives thousands of burger and pizza-sick individuals like me from the gold paved streets and milk and honey baths of the western world into the arms of the warm embracing smell of fresh ghee on hot “chakarai pongal”! With due apologies to amma, I must mention that this man makes the best Kesari on this side of the NH-45. He even offers ‘paruppu-podi sadham’, with ‘goju’ on the side. A dollop of this, a scoop of that, a spoonful of ghee and a lot of licking and lip-smacking later, the loaded ‘burp’ that escapes from the deep confines of your stuffed-to-capacity stomach pays the ultimate tribute to the ultimate meal and leaves you yearning for nothing more than a very short trip to a six feet by four feet of space and one pillow. On the side of the road if necessary.

I hope I have given enough incentive to see some of you people down here in Trichy. See you soon.