Soup at Patna!

 As they walked past Hotel Maurya, adjacent to Gandhi Maidan, Patna during their evening walk, Balbir asked, ‘Is this a five-star hotel?’

‘With such a majestic building, impressive façade, and dazzling light; it must be one,’ observed Amol.

This was long before the current era of Google Assistant or Alexa on your smartphone to instantly reply to all your queries.

Probationary officers who had recently joined a public sector bank were at Patna for a month-long training at the bank’s staff college; and Balbir, Amol, Senthil, and Pramod, all from mofussil towns and middle-class families, were among the two dozen trainees.

Each day, they suffered in stoic silence the monotonous lectures by disgruntled senior officers who resented posting at the training college, a dumping ground for upright and inconvenient officers, and avenged their personal frustration by making life difficult for the young trainees. Pay attention, they hectored from time to time, or be prepared to face disciplinary proceeding, supersession, and dismissal. Bank does not forgive even mistakes made in good faith. Every day each of your actions and decisions must be 100 per cent error-free, and not cause any financial injury to a customer or the Bank, they warned.

After spending the whole day in the lecture halls, the bachelor trainees went to town for an evening stroll, not for exercise but to gawk at girls at shopping centres, before returning to the staff college for dinner.

Pramod suggested, ‘How about dinner here?’

‘Why not?’ said Senthil.

None of them had ever been to a five-star hotel, but were excited to try a novel experience.

At the Reception, they were directed to the Restaurant on the ground floor. Upon entering the cavernous dining hall, they found it empty. It was a little past 7.00 PM and no diners were expected so early. Unsure about the protocol for being seated, they took the table at the farthest corner after ensuring it was not ‘Reserved’.

 After about twenty minutes, a liveried, turbaned waiter walked rather slowly towards them. He was clearly not in a hurry.

‘Yes, Sir?’ he asked looking at no one in particular, unsure about the gentleman who might be the host and would pay the bill.

‘Menu card, please?’ Amol asked.

‘Here it is, Sir,’ he placed a thick, heavy volume on the table, and waited to take the orders.

‘Drinking water, please,’ said Senthil brightly, to send the waiter away so the group could scan the menu, check the prices, and decide about the items to order.

A quick look at the menu, and it was clear they could not afford dinner here. The bank paid a handsome salary, higher than the starting salary for a Class I central government officer; but it was not good enough to buy a dinner at a five-star hotel. Also, neither of them, nor all of them put together had enough cash to buy dinner for four.

The waiter promptly returned with a jar of drinking water, filled the glasses, and asked, ‘Are you ready to order, Sir?’ Once again, he looked at no one in particular.  

During the waiter’s temporary absence, the group had quickly taken stock of the total cash on them – a little less than 800 rupees – and after perusal of the menu had estimated that the total funds did not permit even a basic meal at this hotel. There was no affordable thali meal on offer.

The waiter took out a small notepad and a pencil to note the orders, and there was no more slack time. It would look silly to tell him that they had come in just to rest their legs for a while and sip free drinking water.

Pramod made bold and placed the orders, ‘We will have soup, please. We have a dinner invitation for the evening (the free meal at the training college!) but wish to sample your soup which is said to be very good.’

‘Yes, sir, it is indeed very good,’ he asserted without a smile, and asked, ‘Which soup would you prefer, sir?’

‘I’ll have a chicken hot and sour soup, please.’

Balbir and Amol promptly supported the motion, ‘We’d have that, too.’

Senthil ordered vegetable hot and sour soup.

‘Any starters, sir?’

Now, what’s that? There was no need to seek details. The soup would cost 240 rupees, a big spend for the novel ‘experience.’

‘No, that would be all,’ Pramod said.

The waiter nodded and vanished. For half an hour or more there was no sign of life or movement in the restaurant; no diners, no waiter. Conversation had dried up, the diners were rather tense, and eagerly awaited safe conclusion of the eventful evening.

At last, the waiter arrived carrying a huge platter which he placed gently at the centre of the table and disappeared without a word. Staring at those two items covered with circular brass lids, they were intrigued. Is that the soup? Why only two servings since they had ordered for four soups? Would he come back to serve them, or were they supposed to serve themselves?

Is that our soup, Amol broke the awkward silence?

No idea, said Senthil.

What to do, asked Pramod?

‘Chalo, nikal lete hain (Let’s scoot)’, suggested Balbir, the Sardar.

No, that would be most inappropriate. Let’s check what has been served, said Amol, and carefully uncovered the lids to find two plates with a few breadsticks in one and four cubes of butter in the other.

The soup is on the way, said Pramod, and lo and behold, the waiter made his entry once again carrying another platter, and served a small bowl of soup to each including the vegetarian soup to Senthil (he remembered!).

Enjoy your soup, he said, placed a folded bill holder before Pramod, and went away.

The soup was good, but the serving size was disappointing, considering the exorbitant price, felt these young men. As soon as they finished the soup, Pramod put inside the jacket the required amount (to be shared later by the four) and they left.

The waiter had figured out that the diners would  settle the bill with the exact change, and had not bothered to return to say Good Night.

~~~

Making an exception, Pramod picked up the WhatsApp call from an unknown number.

‘Hello, Balbir Singh here. Do you remember me?’

That was a call out of the blue, after forty-three years, but rang a bell.

‘Of course, I do. Didn’t we have soup together at Maurya, Patna in January, 1980?

‘Yes, how can we ever forget that memorable evening? We were in a soup at Patna!’ said Balbir, and they had a good laugh.

***