It's not just the sight, but smells and sounds have the ability to transport someone to a different place, a different time. It happens too often for someone who suffered progressive vision loss. Here's the experience of one of them.
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In spite of the clattering of plates and the high-decibel noise, the restaurant seemed more appealing. It doesn't require a genius to figure out why? The smell of coffee lured us from quite a distance, and as we wade through the crowd milling around the tables, we were assailed bythe smell of sambar.
The aroma transported me to a different place, to a different time.
Friday evening at our home town of Viruddachalam (better known these days as the former constituency of actor-politician Vijayakant). The bazaar road would be chaotic with fast moving 'town buses' and trucks carrying loads of sugarcanes and groundnuts. Roadside tea stalls did brisk business, and the police station that sat at the corner of the Double street looked more magical as the lone tube light inside flickered and flashed at regular intervals.
Having spent a full day playing cricket on the dry riverbank, myself and my brother would feel hardly tired as we looked forward to the prospect of eating the evening snack outside. We invariably went to the thatched roof stall of Adai Rayar, whose serves special 'onion adai' with tasty 'Milagai podi' (chilli powder) and gingili oil.
That was, of course, the popular choice. The thick dosa like dish would arrive the moment Rayar Mama saw uncle cycling with a nephew each on the front and back of the saddle. While everyone preferred to eat the crisp and wonderfully fried Adai with chilli powder, my choice was the other
one: vegetable sambar and coconut chatni. Rayar was too happy to serve the sambar several times, especially to me since I never used to waste even a drop. How can I? It was one of the best thing I had ever tasted.
It was harder to say what made the sambar tasty. It could be the dal or the native tamarind and vegetable. My guess was the proportion and the blend, which needed immense skill to reproduce without any change on a daily basis.
With the red mark on his forehead and customary dhoti-towel, not to mention the trademark smile, Rayar offered the best food in the town. The Adai, made with red gram-rice-red chilli paste, topped the billing.
The sambar we tasted at the restaurant didn't live up to the sweetness of its smell. But thoughts of Adai Rayar and the tasty sambar at his modest stall seemed to have done the trick. There was only the smile and no complaints of the tanginess due to excess tamarind juice. Oh yes, the mind often crawls through scenes of the past, morphing the unpleasantness of the present with fond memories.
- Learner
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