Customized Dosas: A guide to ordering at South Indian Restaurants

There is this avarice for non-refundable fees that most institutions in the US are prey to. The company from which we wanted to rent out apartments to live in Houston was no exception. A hundred and fifty dollars they wanted as a non-refundable application fees, and it was this that we were at SBI for.

We were already running behind time, and though the staff at SBI was fairly co-operative, we had come awfully near their closing time. Our drafts were almost made and had we been patient for a few more minutes, we would have had them in our hands. Exactly at this time, a friend, henceforth referred to as Friend, said she was hungry.

"Mujhe Bhook lag rahi hai."
"Just wait for a few minutes. Our work should be done in a few minutes. We can go eat then."
"Nahin, mujhe bhook lag rahi hai. I haven't eaten anything since morning. I'm really hungry yaar."
"You can't even wait a few minutes?"
"Nahin yaar. The last thing I ate was dinner. It is almost 3 pm right now. Actually closer to four. Mujhe kuch chahiye."

And so we informed the person handling our drafts and set out to have lunch. Against his suggestion to eat at a Madrasi, we decided to go to Sarvana Bhawan. Sarvana Bhawan is a pretty busy place. The quality of food is as eccentric as its waiters, but somehow it has become a hub of executive lunches. Luckily for us, though, we got a free table. Unluckily, that table belonged to the most eccentric waiter at the restaurant, a dark, and spectacle wearing, belligerent fellow. As we took our places, he gave us one rapid look, probably let out a sigh of disgust, and disappeared into the kitchen.

Ten minutes passed. No water came. No menu either. We were greeted by a complete lack of attention. Just when we were about to do something attention engaging, the waiter appeared.

"You want order? Where menu?"

He looked at us like we were guilty of having eaten the menus.

"We haven't got a menu. Could we get one please? And some water also."
"You have no menu?" A look of disgust. "Ok!"

The menu and the water came a few minutes later. In about five minutes, but for Friend, everyone had decided what he or she wanted to order. Our orders were relatively simple. Masala Dosa, Onion dosa, Onion Uthapam, but Friend wanted to try something new. She wanted a mixture of dosas. Butter Onion Masala Paneer rava Dosa or something like that.

"You can't get that here, " we told her, "it's not on the menu."
"No no, me and my mom always do this at any south Indian place we go to. People do it for us."
"But they're just going to charge you for all the dosas separately. Besides, on most days you can't even eat half a dosa, what are you going to do with four?"
"No you wait and watch, they are going to prepare a special dosa for me and they're not going to charge extra."

When the waiter came to take the order, we went first. He took our orders with a look of disdain. Then came Friend's order. For a second he looked like we'd got the better of him. Then he regained composure and with as much haughtiness as he could muster, he said,

"That is not on the menu."

We could have laughed at Friend, but it would have been rude. So everyone held their laughter, which at times can be a little more embarrassing than holding one's bladder, and looked expectantly at Friend. We could sense a confrontation coming. Oh! The sweet joys of her company.

"So what if it is not on the menu? Why can't you make it?"
"It is not on the menu."
"Look, all you need to do is add some butter to an Onion rava Dosa that you have on your menu, and just put some filling from the masala dosa that you also have on your menu."
"But show me on menu."
"It is not there on the menu."
"Then not there" said the triumphant waiter.
"No I want it,” yelled Friend.

At this point some people looked in our direction. The waiter started saying something, then stopped himself midway, and left.

Some time later we got our food. It was already close to half past four. The inconvenient fact that the bank shuts at four had escaped all of us. We were too engrossed with customized Dosas. Since all of us were hungry, the food disappeared in no time, but for Friend's, who ate a little more than half her dosa, then looked at us beseechingly to finish the rest.

When, finally, we did reach SBI, the bank had shut. Our drafts had gone into the safe-room, and the earliest we could get them was the next day. Worse, we didn’t even have any receipts on the basis of which we could claim the money. This upset Friend terribly. She got very nervous. But since there wasn’t much we could do, we left.

Claiming the drafts the next day was not a problem at all. And, personally, the concept of customized dosas more than made up for the extra trip that we had to make.