Suprabhātam
The distorted crackle from Parthasarathy Temple’s loudspeakers was Narayana’s daily alarm.
As Narayana rolled up the shutter, M.S. Subbulakshmi’s Venkateswara Suprabhatam drifted in with the cold breeze from the Marina.
Triplicane was where young Chennai folk came to chase improbable dreams: students, bachelors, aspiring actors, software engineers, and job seekers arriving with big dreams and little money, squeezing into the dilapidated mansions that lined its poorly lit alleys.
In one such alley, Narayana ran a small mess that doubled as his home: his room at the back, the kitchen in the middle, and the dining hall opening onto the street.
Malliga had already swept the floor up to the street and drawn a neat kolam. She picked up the Dina Malar and Aavin milk sachets from the doorstep, placed them on the counter, and moved out to the next building.
The temple bells rang for Viswaroopam, the day’s first darshan. It was six. Right on cue, Biplab, the assistant cook, and Dorje, his helper, arrived.
Narayana, already in his clean white veshti and sleeveless banyan, was pouring idli batter into the moulds. Biplab took over, while Dorje tidied the dining hall.
An hour later, Babu, the cashier, arrived on his bicycle.
He parked it, walked to the menu board, and wrote, looking at a notepad:
QUOTE OF THE DAY
“A full plate, a lighter heart.”
Prātarāśaḥ
- Idli • Vada • Pongal
- Sambar. Coconut Chutney
- Tea. Coffee
Sunday breakfast was quiet; most of the young clients had gone home for the weekend.
“Let’s see how long this Vijay wave lasts,” Iyer Mama muttered, eyes still on the Dina Malar.
A student said, “I feel that Vijay has performed well so far.”
Iyer Mama shot back, “Performed well? In Reels, maybe. Ground reality is different.”
“It’s only three months, Mama.”
Narayana slammed the sambar ladle into the bucket.
“Politics is banned in my mess! Eat your breakfast, folks!’
Iyer Mama flipped to the Sports page: “This Gautam Gambhir…
“No cricket either….”
Aharāśaḥ
- Rice & Paruppu with Ghee
- Avial
- Lemon Rasam
- Potato fry
- Arachuvitta Sambar
- Curd
- Gulab Jam
“Yo, Babu, it is jamun, J-A-M-U-N, and not Jam”, Narayana corrected for the umpteenth time.
The mess was full. Narayana wiped the sweat from his forehead and watched his guests savour the Sunday Special Thali meals. They went back for more. For a cook, that was reward enough.
Nakatāśaḥ
- Lemon Rice
- Curd Rice
- Pickle
Not a popular menu.
“Anna, at least give us oothappam on Sunday,” a student lamented.
“Oothappam on Sunday night is how Monday begins with acidity. Eat thayir sadham and sleep well, son.”
Vṛttānta
The mess was almost empty when Kavya and Prakash walked in for dinner.
Kavya was seeking a permanent IT job while Prakash chased acting opportunities. With rent, family pressures, and uncertain incomes, marriage plans kept getting postponed.
“How much do we owe Anna now?” Kavya asked.
“Two months,” Prakash said quietly.
“Two months?”
“We’ll clear it soon.”
“We promised last month.”
“I know.”
“We can’t keep eating here without paying. It’s embarrassing.”
“I know.”
“Then maybe we should stop coming.”
Prakash didn’t answer.
Kavya tried to hold herself together. Then a tear fell.
She wiped it away. Another followed.
Prakash reached for her hand, helpless.
Narayana walked over with two plates of curd rice and lemon rice, placed them on the table, and said,
“Eat.”
Narayana looked at her, put an arm around her, and held her close.
She buried her face in his shoulder and broke down, all the fear, shame, and helplessness she had been holding back finally spilling out.
“Why cry over two months’ dues?” he said softly. “Settle down first. The dues can wait.”
“And if you two don’t settle down soon,” Narayana continued with a smile, “I’ll have to employ you both here.”
Through tear-filled eyes, she managed a faint smile.
They ate silently.
Narayana darted into the kitchen, pretending to do a nonexistent errand.
But in Narayana’s mess, they found a fatherly presence and warmth, a quiet sense of hope that tomorrow could be better.
They stepped out of the mess after the modest dinner, recharged with hope.
Fireworks suddenly lit up the Triplicane sky. Typical Triplicane things: some celebration or the other was always happening every day- festivals, processions, IPL games, weddings, concerts….
Chintanam
Narayana went over to the table where Babu, Biplab and Dorje were setting up dinner.
Biplab asked, “Anna, why did you never marry?”
Narayana smiled.
“When I came to the city, I was about Prakash’s age. Survival was all I could think about. Love or marriage was neither a thought nor an expense I could afford.”
His eyes lingered on the tables, kitchen, and walls that defined his life, his regret.
“Somehow, this became my life.”
“Every day, I feed anxious youngsters, unemployed dreamers, and confused lovers. I fill their stomachs, ease their worries, and send them back to face the same uncertain tomorrow.”
They finished dinner quietly and called it a day.
With a warm “Goodnight, Anna,” Biplab and Dorje stepped into the night, Babu wheeling his bicycle beside them.
Nidra
Narayana pulled down the shutter, switched off the lights, and walked back to his little room at the rear.
He laid the mat on the floor and closed his eyes.
Another day was over.
The Suprabhatam song would play again in a few hours.
A new dawn…
A new story…..
Glossary:
Suprabhātam (Sanskrit)– Auspicious Dawn
prātarāśaḥ (Sanskrit)- Breakfast
Aharāśaḥ (Sanskrit)– Lunch
nakatāśaḥ (Sanskrit)– Dinner
Vṛttānta (Sanskrit)- A story
Chintanam (Sanskrit)– A reflection (of the past)
Nidra (Sanskrit)– Sleep
Kolam (Tamil): decorative designs drawn (Rangoli) on the floor, traditionally with rice flour
Viswaroopam Darshan: The 6:00 AM ritual at the Parthasarathyswamy Temple in Triplicane, Chennai is the Viswaroopa Darshan. This is the highly sacred first public viewing of the day, where the curtains are drawn open to reveal the 9-foot-tall deity of Lord Krishna (depicted uniquely as the royal charioteer with a mustache)
Avial (Tamil)– Avial is a traditional thick stew of vegetables
Lemon Rasam- A Thin spicy soup with a lemony flavour
Arachuvitta Sambar (Tamil)– a traditional South Indian lentil and vegetable stew made by roasting and grinding whole spices and fresh coconut into a paste right before cooking,
Dina Malar : Tamil Newspaper
Oothappam: A thick Dosa form
Thayir sadham (Tamil) : Curd Rice
PC: Shreyak Singh/Unsplash
