Visit to "The MTR"

It was Makar Sankranti, a festival celebrated for innumerable reasons in India depending on the climate, agricultural environment, cultural background and location. It universally holds its significance throughout the country as the harvest festival. Fortunate as we happened to be, the corporate offices had declared a holiday on the day. We'd heard a lot about MTR, the famous tiffin outlet in South India, but never really had got a chance for an eat out. So we grabbed the holiday as one such opportunity.

We reached the restaurant which was located amidst the busiest of markets on Lalbagh Road. The first impression of the outlet disappointed us as it resembled a small tuck shop where people would gather for tiffin. We had our expectations right in our minds of tasting the South Indian delicacies, the MTR way! These would comprise of the Masala Dosa, Idli, Vada, Uttapam and the like. As we stepped into the restaurant, we noticed a small counter attended by an extremely busy person who was dexterously issuing coupons for meals to the customer. There was no menucard for display. Apparently, we learned that only "Meals" were served during the hour of the day we went to eat. What would a Meal comprise of? This was our next question to the attendant at the counter. Obviously, he was too busy to reply, more so we realized we were acting as a bottleneck to the fast moving queue there! Quickly he pointed out his index finger to the white board displayed on the side wall, which we happened to miss. Glancing at the items listed in the meal, gave us no clue at all on what was in store for us. So undoubtedly as instructed by our starving stomachs we took the coupon for “The Meal” and was directed to move to the first floor.

Least did we ever imagine that the first floor would lead us to a waiting hall full of people sitting on benches awaiting an aged man who sat at the door to the next hall calling out their coupon number vociferously in order! This was no less than a waiting room one finds at the Railway Station.

So,.. our coupon number was 36 and as per the process we were supposed to wait. While we waited for our turn to hit the dining table, I scanned the waiting room form one end to the other. The hall was filled with people from all age groups. While there were toddlers around, one could also see many women and men in the bracket of 40-60 years mostly dressed in the cultural attires. There were young couples too waiting patiently for their turn. No one seemed as restless as we were. And then I noticed the calm each person carried on his or her face. Certainly, this was not their first visit to the MTR and they were quite familiarized with the process followed. Unlike us who used to time and again pay a trip to the counter to check our waiting time, others were busy chatting and waited sedately for their turn.

At last we heard a loud call for Number 36 and with a tick marked in our coupon, we were directed to a dining hall with dishes placed on the table. These were the steel dishes with fragments that one usually happens to have had first come across in their hostel mess! The dining hall was spick and span and we were given a table for four which we were supposed to share with an old man. So, following the best-fit arrangement, 3 of us were served lunch at the table. We felt a sense of intrusion initially, but while we waited for the helpers to serve us the food, the old man seated opposite to us happened to make us at peace with his presence. He would be around 60 years of age and had a serene look that created a fatherly aura around him.

Without any further delay, we were served one dish after the other in a successive order. Unfortunately, we had no idea of what each dish was called or what would it taste like. There were around twelve items in the plate for us to relish. Puri, Sagu along with a dry veg and sprout salad was something we could immediately identify our palate with. A small glass of grape juice, 2 varieties of rice adorned with ghee, Bisi bele bath, Sambhar, Curd Rice, Papad, Payasam kept getting served. There was no limit to what you eat. The men who served the dishes wore a clean traditional dhoti, kurta and served the food in a dexterous manner. This was the actual cultural experience that we received at the MTR. Unaware of the items we ate, not able to relish every dish, nonetheless glued to the ethnic ambience and air around us. A fond memory we will savor all our life.

Indeed, a much deserved experience on a festival day!