The Food Connection ~Zenana Tales 3~

 

Life at Zenana was very interesting for me. It was the first time I was staying away from home, and I thoroughly enjoyed this new found independence and responsibility-in-the-making. Of course, I was sent to Trivandrum to study, (read ‘slog’) and somehow make my way into a medical college, but that didn’t come in the way of me having fun. I did study hard, but didn’t forget to play pranks on friends, climb trees on campus (only for pictures, not monkeying around! I was more on the adakkam-othukkam types) and save pocket money to indulge in porotta and beef fry/chilli beef.

We had one security guard in Zenana when I was there, and that was the one and only Krishnan chettan. He had his ‘watch tower’…LOL, not exactly…his little shack, or room on the far end of the compound, halfway down the steps leading to the back entrance on the Bakery-Jn Vazhuthacaud road. Talking about the back entrance reminds me that I didn’t tell you about the main entrance. There was actually such a thing as the main entrance, but it was not frequented by us, the entrance students, so that for me was an uncommon path. Everything I wanted was at the back of the sprawling campus…the road to my coaching centre, the photocopy shops, the bakeries and ice cream parlours, etc. The main entrance was mostly used by the inmates who studied at the Women’s College, as it was the shortest way to get there.

Zenana was mainly run or manned by three main ladies (also referred to as ‘Kochammas’). Annamma Kochamma was the oldest. She was a short and sort of frail lady, but she was the head person. Always dressed in a traditional ‘Chatta’ and ‘Mundu’, she had her room at the far end of the dining hall. Just outside the room was the telephone to which our parents and guardians would call, and Annamma Kochamma would sit on the old wooden chair with plastic cane weaving, beside her door, facing the telephone, for the entire duration of the conversation. Well, I guess she was not sitting there just to eavesdrop, that was her spot for almost much of the daytime which she would spend reading the newspaper, magazines or her Bible.

Remani Kochamma was another kochamma, who had her room in the New Building, and she was incharge of the rooms and generally anything related to the inmates. If anything, she would report to Annamma Kochamma, as that was the line of hierarchy.

Ammini Kochamma was the third kochamma, and she was incharge of the kitchen and the mess. She had a couple of helpers with her in the kitchen. Her daughter, Sheeja, was a student of the Women’s College, like many other inmates at Zenana.

Ammini Kochamma’s food was tasty and very much like home food, that quite contrary to the usual belief that staying in hostel makes you lose weight, I remained well (or maybe very well) nourished.

In spite of Ammini Kochamma’s food being yummy and wholesome, we did crave outside food quite often. Sometimes on our way back from the coaching centre, we (Krupa and I) would stop by at the bakery, right opposite the back gate of Zenana, and buy soft milk bread and spicy veg or chicken cutlets, to make ‘the poor man’s burger’, once back in the room. The sweetness of the milk break and the mild spice of the crispy cutlets with a generous slather of ketchup was heaven on earth!! Sometimes, if we had enough pocket money to spare, we would also get a small bottle of Sprite or Pepsi to go with it.

Getting Maggie noodles and making then in our rooms another pleasant memory. We would chose days when dinner wasn’t that appetizing, or if we just weren’t in the mood for regular food. We used to take our flasks and collect hot water, come back with it to our rooms and make Maggie in our steel tiffin boxes. Simple recipe…pour boiling water, mix with the tastemaker and immerse the Maggie in it. Close the tiffin box and leave untouched for 10 minutes. Done.

Those days, Nestle had something called Bonus, available in select shops. Soya milk powder, it was. I wanted to try this new thing and gave it a go. I didn’t like it the first time I tasted, but I had to finish the whole bottle, so I kept drinking a glass of Bonus every night after dinner. I slowly started liking the taste and decided to keep buying it regularly. Well, I had another reason to buy it again and again. As an introductory offer, Nestle was giving a free canister with every packet of Bonus. I didn’t care about anything else, I wanted to collect as many canisters as I could. Bonus was a good drink. My energy levels skyrocketed as I became a regular consumer. I could climb up the never ending flight of stone steps down from the back gate to the level terrain of Zenana without panting. It was a good drink, but Nestle stopped Bonus after a while and I still don’t understand why!

If I remember right, it must have been the beginning of the month when we had more pocket money….or was it the end of the month when we had some left from the month’s allowance and was soon due for the next installment….Ah! whatever! What I wanted to say was, we, all the roommates pitched in and ordered porotta and chilly beef from City Chef, which no longer exists. City Chef was a tiny take-out place, mostly visited by men after a day’s work. It was right next to a motor bike workshop adjacent to the Zenana back gate. There used to be a ‘chief cook’ who wore an old lungi, and a typical Malayali guy white inner banyan…only that it wasn’t very white! I guess he was the main man. His ‘henchmen’, I think he had two of them, made porottas and the sides to go with it. I had no business going up that road and past my gate on a regular day, but did look out for this amazing place on one rare day when I had to use that road to go up to Vazhuthacaud for some reason. I was expecting a small sized restaurant and was quite surprised to see this small shack-like eatery. Even though my imagination failed me, I didn’t see that a reason good enough to stop buying from there. How could we say no to the fluffiest, spongiest porottas and the crispy, saucy, tender beef strips romancing thin green capsicum slivers and fiery red chillies, just because the chef’s lungi was unattractive!

Of course, we didn’t go in person and buy from there, and there was no Swiggy back then. It was our dear old Krishnan Chettan whom we used to request, when we had a craving. He would go get our order and room deliver it. Thinking of it now, I can’t help but feel bad that we never tipped him for this service. I don’t know why we didn’t have such an attitude in us, maybe we didn’t know of it?

Attaching pics from Google....for nostalgia's sake.

~priya~