Dinner in Bombay

Pedestrians have no rights in Bombay.  None.  If you want to cross the street, you have to wait for your moment and then weave through the creeping traffic with great care.  After a couple hours of walking around Bombay, Karen and Abbas asked us if we would like to get something to eat.  We navigated our way along the busy, noisy, dirty streets to a restaurant owned by the father of one of Abbas’ friends.  As we entered, I was struck by the transition two footsteps can create.  Inside, neatly set tables awaited us in most serene atmosphere.  In the U.S., one would not expect such a nice restaurant to have a large TV perched above the tables.  Karen, seeing the TV and noting the cricket match that was being broadcast, laughed and told Abbas, “Ha, now I know why you really wanted to take us here.”   The male servers lined up against the wall behind where Abbas was seated, transfixed by the match.  As we later noted, some children stood outside the restaurant, looking through the window so they, too, could see the match. 

But the match was not the only reason Abbas had selected this restaurant.  The food was excellent.  We ordered four items and they brought to  us  along with complimentary appetizers which we dipped into the very tasty sauces that were fixtures on  every table.  Our conversation with Abbas and Karen was non-stop throughout dinner and Sam and I continued to lean in,in the hopes of understanding everything they were saying to us.  When Abbas left the table briefly, I asked Karen if she and Abbas were more than friends to one another. The way they spoke and joked with one another was my only clue.  In India, intimate behavior of any kind is not acceptable in public..  “No,” she answered.  “We just hang around with the same crowd of people and we have a lot in common with one another.”  She explained that she is 28 and in no hurry to marry.  In Bombay, she explained, things are different.   “People my age marry for love.”   She also told us that our hotel was right across the street from the Radio Club, a place where many couples get married.  She said they get married mostly in the winter months because that is an auspicious time.  “They check to see what time of day is also most auspicious,” she explained.  “Sometimes they get married at four in the morning.”

During dinner we presented a small bottle of maple syrup to Abbas, as a token of our appreciation for all he has done to help us put our trip together.  He thanked us and set the bottle down beside him.  “you can put it on ice cream, if you like,” I told him.  He looked puzzled for a moment and we explailned a bit more about maple syrup.  “Oh!” he said, looking a little relieved.  “I thought it was perfume.”

Our meal was over.  The food was so good and the cost was amazingly low.  With beverages and plentiful food for all, the bill came to 690 rupees.  With tip, we paid a total of about $18.  “You can get good meals like this for even less in most places,” Abbas told us.  On the way out of the restaurant, we passed a small shelf, with little bowls containing what looked like dried herbs.  Abbas and Karen put some in their hands and then their mouths.  “These are to aid digestion.  This one has fennel seed,” Karen explained.  We also took some and it tasted good. 

Just outside the restaurant, a man sat with a small cart on the noisy street corner, selling another digestive aid, a beatlenut leaf wrapped around some more herbs which had a spritz of rosewater on them.  Abbas purchased two of them and gave them to me and Sam.  They tasted wonderful, too.  As Abbas bid us goodnight, we put our arms around each other’s waists briefly and I was struck by how very thin his body felt.  He left us and we grabbed a cab with Karen back to Colaba.