Evening meal

It wasn’t quite dark when I went out the guest house in search of food. I took my torch in case there would be no street lighting to find my way back. Deepak recommended a restaurant at the end of the road, whose name I recognised from the guide book.  Across the main road was the usual collection of small shops – fruit, sweets and general goods and an internet place. I couldn’t see the restaurant, but at the end of the row was a small place with cooking going on inside a red-painted cabin with an open hatch – a la greasy spoon. Adjacent was an open room with a tin roof with 4 tables inside . I didn’t think this was the place from the guide book. A woman in a sari stood behind  a small desk at the entrance. She returned my  smile.  There were only Indian men inside, two at tables and two working there. I asked the woman for the menu. She didn’t understand. One of the men opened the desk drawer and removed a laminated menu and motioned me with a smile and a head-wobble to sit at a table. He showed me the menu which was written in English, with some with accompanying explanations and pictures. He started talking in Malaylam and pointing to items on the menu. After a while I understood that all they had was the ‘masala dhosa’. Confusingly the explanation said this was ‘shoup with potato’, but the pictured showed a flat bread with pickles. I said I would have it, ‘and a cup of tea, please’. When it came it was a fried flat bread, stuffed with spicy potato curry and served with 3 pickles. As I ate it with the fingers of my right hand he brought me a glass of sweet black coffee, which was just the thing to go with the food.

Several Indian men came in and went to a small table at the back where they sorted out bread and pickles to take away wrapped in newspaper.  Having finished eating I washed my hands, ordered another black coffee and stared writing my diary. Then the lights went out. No-one took any notice; there were no gasps and cries of, ‘wooooh!’. I turned on my torch. The man came to have a look. He was very interested ad even more so when I showed him the flashing function and wind-up charger. The lights came back on and he looked over my shoulder at my diary. I don’t suppose he could read it, but he liked my hand-writing, ‘very small’.  I showed him the pictures in the front. The woman at the desk came over to look. They understood they were of my children and grandchildren.

The bill was 60 rupees (about 80p). How about that for a good value evening?