The Hungry Desi

Have you ever lived without something which you once took for granted?, it might sound profound and important. But, sometimes its the little things that you yearn for. This thin hyaapa from India had lived 8 months without tasting the spicy,juicy and smooth delicacy which my grandmother would pronounce as Bissbelle bath. I know its stupid to keep a dish which takes seconds to prepare close to your heart. But sometimes things which are strange haunt you as sometimes it is not luxury we crave for it is the dormancy. 

The hyaapa in this tale on his quest met the most genuine people he would ever come across in these vicarious times. The people whose generosity was as hospitable as the food that adhered to the tears of my stomach. The venue was an Indian Restaurant named Athithi, wherein I was reunited with an old foe whom I fought and devoured everyday in Nalpak in the most glorious of towns i.e Mysore. Oh the night was just starting as I sought my menu to seek what I yearned, Mysore Masala Dosa with some crispy, smooth red chutney. Oh how, the heart pounds when one thinks of the crispy, round smoothly cut Dosa wherein the aloo gravy rested in it's core like a baby in perfect harmony with its mother, combining to become one. 

This poor Brahmanna gorged and roared inside while his slant nose shined upon his new found friends. In the distance, the smell of the well blended, spiced and cooked Bissbelle bath winked in the distance at the bookha in me. Containing my excitement, I marched to join the queue. 

A plate full of bath and raitha set on my table, the wait began to be reunited with my long lost love, not the Dosa I devoured in Nalpak, but the Filter coffee I had like a retired banker reminiscing about his old days in Nalpak restaurant. The 16 rupees coffee is all that the heart commanded. The nostalgia kicked in while I sipped the frothy layer of milk on the perfectly blended decoction which was as smooth as silk which gave a feeling that I was back home, nestling in my sofa while m.s subbalaxmi's sumptuous voice commenced the day.

 In Chicago, with new found people whom I now cherish , I gleaned that day as I sipped my second cup of filter coffee after finishing my fourth Masala dosa. I was there but my heart was in Mysore with my dad and with that hymn. However, the very next night it would not be so hauntingly beautiful as the lady with the shotgun gleaned in the darkness to make me hide behind a pillow. The story about how I met the lady with a shotgun , in the next episode of Americadalli Brahmanna.