No sincerer love than love of food

Companyis also an important factor in the enjoyment of a meal. When it is congenial and exhilarating, it adds that much to the taste. Unpleasant arguments or quarrels not only spoil the taste of the food, but are bad for digestion too.

I recall, with great pleasure and happiness, many meals I shared with people I had respect and regard for.

One unforgettable such occasion was the time I had dinner with Swamy Satya Saibaba when Governor Sharda Mukherjee hosted a meal for him, and I was the only other guest present. Another was the lunch hosted by Chief Minister of Andhra Pradesh, Janardan Reddy, in honour of Dr Manmohan Singh, the then Union Finance Minister. I, as a Secretary in the Chief Minister’s Office, had also been invited along with Principal Secretary to the Chief Minister, Madhava Rao. I found Manmohan Singh to be a very simple and straightforward person with clear views on many important economic and political issues. The fare was par excellence, thanks to the extraordinary culinary talent of Mrs. Janardhan Reddy, known to be a great cook.

Soon after taking over as the Chief Secretary of Andhra Pradesh state. I had lunch with Chandrababu Naidu and S V Prasad, Secretary to the Chief Minister. It was a frugal meal, quickly finished, as it was essentially meant for breaking the ice between the Chief Minister and the new Chief Secretary. Later on, my wife Usha and I were invited by the Chief Minister and his wife to dinner at their place. Once again, the accent was more on exchanging views, and serious discussion, than the items on the table.

Important political leaders sharing meals with poor people in huts is something that often amounts to seeking publicity, and smacks of cheap politics.

The misery that hunger and starvation can cause, and the desperation to which they can drive a person, are portrayed touchingly by Charles Dickens, in his book, ‘Oliver Twist’. In the story, Oliver and other boys are employed in a workhouse. They subsist on gruel. The members of the board, managing the house deliberately keep the portions small, both as a measure of economy, and also to encourage the boys to leave the house soon. Some of the boys die of starvation and many others have emaciated bodies. Finally, in sheer desperation, the boys hold a council and elect Oliver to ask Bumble, the cruel and pompous beadle of the workhouse, for more food. Not only is the request denied, but Oliver gets into even more trouble for having made the request. Which characteristic empathy, Dickens brings out the cruel and adjustment treatment. Meted out to poor innocent boys, who hunger for a better life.

In 1982, when King Faud of Saudi Arabia passed away, a state funeral took place in Riyadh, the capital city of Saudi Arabia. It was attended by Heads of State, and Heads of Government, of several countries from around the world. Hidayatullah, the Vice President of India, represented India at that event. As Secretary to the Vice President, I was part of his entourage, along with a Private Secretary, and a Security Officer.

We had flown from Delhi to the city of Jeddah first, from where a Royal aircraft took us to Riyadh. While waiting in the lounge at the Jeddah airport, I remember how we gaped, open mouthed, at the gold laced curtains. In Riyadh, the three of us were put up in what was called a Royal Guest House, but more like one of the most expensive five star hotels in the world. After spending a night in one of those luxurious rooms, we walked down to breakfast, the next morning, to see the kind of spread that I have never seen, before or after. The choicest vegetarian, non-vegetarian dishes were on display, together with exotic and rare fresh fruits and vegetables. I remember the onions in particular, as big as footballs! Probably one of the most filling and gorgeous meals I ever had!

Talking of elaborate spreads reminds me of the meal I once had with my brother-in-law, Chavali, in a place called Subbaiah Hotel, in Kakinada town, in Andhra Pradesh. Having heard that the place did roaring business, I went there, more out of curiosity, than because I was hungry. As the service began, and the meal progressed, however, I found myself completely fascinated by the ambience of the place, the items on offer, and the quality of service. An amazing 28 items were served, in the sequence that the Telugus are famous for, beginning with a dal and ending with a sweet. The tab (naturally picked up my brother-in-law as is the Andhra custom!), was ridiculously low, a mere ₹128/-. And for each customer, a representative of the owner was designated to enquire, in the most solicitous manner, whether a particular dish was acceptable, and whether a second helping would be in order. That I didn’t feel hungry for a couple of days afterwards did not matter. The taste still lingers!

As in the case of Subbaiah Hotel and, once again with brother-in-law, Chavali, as the host, I joined a family lunch at a vegan place, called ‘Isha’ in Banjara Hills in Hyderabad one afternoon. As repasts go, it was a highly forgettable event, partly because I found the food not very palatable and also because I had to leave halfway to fulfil an early commitment. Meanwhile, the arguments for, and against, the fastidious prescriptions vegans have for their preference, continue unabated.

Each language has its own interesting twists and turns. InTelugu, for instance, to do can also mean to make in certain contexts. That window of opportunity was enough for my father to come out with one of the retorts he was famous for. When a neighbour asked him, “What did you do for breakfast today”?, his characteristic quip was, “We ate it up! What did you do with yours?!”

(The writer was formerly Chief Secretary, Government of Andhra Pradesh)