The amazing aroma veritably wrapped itself all over him!
The moment he opened the door of the taxi and set his foot down on the ground, he discerned the aroma pervading the air. This was something unknown, which he had never partaken of in his life. He also immediately discerned its enchanting allure.
He was ravenous anyway after having travelled in the cab for four or five hours without a halt, but with this alluring aroma, it reached explosive proportions. Spotting the restaurant beside the road just twenty yards away from him, he removed his sunglasses and took a proper look. He could clearly see its strange and uncommon name on the signboard. He took a deep puff on the cigarette pressed between his lips and cast a sideways glance in the direction of the taxi before moving ahead. The driver had his head outside the window. As soon as their eyes met, the man nodded in assent, and at once the taxi departed with a loud whoosh.
The restaurant that stood in front of him proudly proclaimed: রবীন্দ্রনাথ এখানে কখনও খেতে আসেন নি – Rabindranath Never Ate Here!
Absolutely bloody true! I too would never have eaten here, unless …
Taking in the aroma fully, he began walking ahead.
There was a long verandah with a tin shade painted green on the front of the handsome, single-storey, bungalow-like restaurant beside the highway. A single glance at the large French windows and the massive, carved wooden door was enough to imprint the place in one’s mind. There were very few excellent restaurants like this beside the road. All the restaurants that were located beside the highway essentially functioned as halts for buses carrying passengers. The big bus service companies themselves were the owners of some of the restaurants. There was a large vacant lot in front of them to provide parking space for the buses and coaches; but it was not like that in this unique restaurant. The vacant space in front of it could at best accommodate ten or twelve passenger cars. No long-distance bus or coach was parked there. Where were they parked then?
He found the answer on the left side of the restaurant.
There was a petrol pump at a distance of about a hundred or a hundred-and-fifty yards from Rabindranath. There were lots of buses, coaches and lorries parked there. Looking all around, he then cast his eyes once again at the restaurant. There was only a white-coloured vehicle and a black-coloured microbus in the clearing in front.
The afternoon was crawling along. Everything seemed to be dozing here. The highway too seemed to be stretching languidly, like a dead serpent. One or two buses or lorries plied along it every once in a long while.
In the vicinity of the restaurant were paddyfields, pools of water, and canals. Behind it, far away, lay a rural settlement. Farmers’ homesteads dotted the vast paddyland. A narrow path ran towards those homesteads. There were vast tracts of farmland on both sides of the muddy path. Here and there lay small and large ponds, pools, drainage channels, and canals. If you cast your eyes all around, you glimpsed the eternal scene of the green plain becoming one with the sky.
Approaching the restaurant, he paused to take a final, satisfying puff before flicking away the cigarette. The massive carved door was just beside the ‘No Smoking’ sign, and as soon as he pushed that and entered, he was taken aback for a few moments. Rabindrasangeet, playing softly, wafted inside. He wasn’t surprised. That was to be expected, especially in a restaurant with such a name.
He cast his eyes inside the room now. The decor and milieu were completely different. The tables and chairs were arranged somewhat differently. There were three or four chairs around each round table. And there were five or six tables laid out like that in the room. There was room for twenty or twenty-five people at best. But the seating arrangement was for only half the number of customers the large space could accommodate. It was as if its owner was conveying a message to everyone: I am not in the restaurant business simply to earn money. What I’m engaged in is a kind of art!
In this wintry late afternoon, there were only five or six customers spread over two tables who were eating with great indulgence. Looking at them, it seemed they had taken a break on their long journey in order to eat. Perhaps they had heard good things about this restaurant from someone and come down to try it out.
Observing him enter, some of the customers turned their heads and glanced at him, but not for very long; they turned their attention back to the delicious food laid out in front of them. Looking around, he couldn’t spot any waiter. He advanced a bit and sat down at a table in front. The seat was most comfortable. Restaurants didn’t normally have such comfortable seating. One could sit here with one’s arms and legs spread out. He did that too. His whole body felt sluggish after the long journey.
As a restaurant, the place was an amazing one. There was no menu on the table. That was curious too. One couldn’t observe any waiters either. It was a completely unconventional scenario. No one could be spotted nearby. There was a small door on the northern side of the interior, perhaps one could go through that to some room inside. Just beside the door was a small window. It had an opaque, blackish glass pane and so nothing was visible through that.
He looked westwards. There were two more doors. Looking at the signs, he figured out they were the washrooms, for males and females. Hearing a knock, he was startled and turned to look. Behind him, a bit to his right, was a youth standing. It was the waiter. If he didn’t have the menu in his hand, he could have been mistaken for a customer.
‘Here’s the menu’, the youth said. ‘Take a look. If you want to order, I’ll come by.’ He left without saying anything more.
How would this waiter know when I want to order? He thought about that. Strange! He cast his eyes on the menu. Unlike other restaurants, the items here weren’t excessive, and he observed that most of the names of the dishes were unfamiliar. They had probably given new names to commonly known dishes. And some items in the menu had been displayed separately as “Mushkan’s Specials”.
Mushkan’s Curry.
Mushkan’s Secrecy!
Mushkan’s Soup of Life!
Mushkan’s Hybrid Cramchop!
Mushkan’s Golden Pond Drink!
Mushkan’s Just Tea!
What exactly was “Mushkan’s”? Was it the name of some Arabian or Persian dish? Like the Lebanese shawarma?
He realised that this restaurant was adept at creating a mystery, and utterly candid about conveying that.
Mystery! I’ve come precisely to penetrate that, he thought to himself. He took his eyes off the menu and looked around. There was no sign of the waiter. Such a large restaurant and only a single waiter! And he too vanishes like a ghost, and doesn’t stay in sight.
He saw the door on the north side opening and the same waiter emerging. Coming beside him, he said, ‘Yes sir … Tell me.’
‘I’ve been on a long journey … What do you suggest I order so that I can have a hearty meal? I can’t figure out anything from your menu.’
There was no smile on the waiter’s face, rather it seemed he was somewhat unhappy hearing the customer. ‘You can have rice with meat or fish curry. Would you like something special along with that?’
‘By special do you mean something like Mushkan?’
The jibe in what he said annoyed the waiter. ‘Yes, something like that’, he retorted.
‘What exactly is this Mushkan? Is it Arabian cuisine or something Persian?’
The waiter stared at the customer for a few moments. ‘It seems you are coming here for the first time.’
‘Yes.’
The youth smiled courteously. ‘It’s a name, sir.’
‘Name of what?’
‘The name of the owner of this restaurant. She’s the one who prepared our entire menu.’
‘Prepared your menu meaning?’
‘She’s a chef … you could say an extraordinary chef!’
‘Oh.’ The customer nodded and pondered for a few moments. A woman running a restaurant in a border region like this, and she was a chef to boot? An extraordinary chef! ‘Alright, so what can I have with rice?’ He stopped thinking about anything else and trained his attention to the matter of food. His hunger was becoming unbearable.
‘You could try Mushkan’s curry. It’s a beef curry.’
‘Then give me that.’
‘Okay sir.’
He was surprised to see the waiter depart without saying anything more. ‘Listen!’ He called out to the youth.
He turned around. ‘Yes?’
‘Would be nice to get some dal or vegetable curry with that … is there something like that on your menu …’
‘There’s dal and several kinds of bhortas, sir.’ The waiter interrupted him. ‘It’s complimentary with the rice.’
‘Oh’, he said, raising his eyebrows. ‘Alright.’
‘Just tell me if there’s anything you’d like to have, there’s no problem’, the waiter said before hurrying away in the direction of the shut door.
He looked at the three customers sitting far away. They were certainly all going somewhere for a holiday. The people were eating so indulgently that looking at them it seemed that they were savouring the most splendid food in the world. They ate silently, looking at one another to exchange admiring looks. It was indeed something to behold. It was as if each one were engaged in a pantomime. From their clothes and so on it seemed they were well-educated and wealthy, they were definitely not the kind to lick their fingers, but that’s what they were doing right now.
Despite being so far away, the delicious aroma of the food on that table wafted to his nose. An amazing and enchanting aroma.
He stood up. He had just ordered, it would certainly take at least ten or fifteen minutes for the food to arrive. Observing the sluggish demeanour of the waiter, it seemed it could take longer too. He thought he ought to freshen up a bit in the meanwhile.
So the owner of this amazing restaurant was a woman! He wondered about that as he made his way towards the washroom. This unexpected aspect made him even more eager.
The walls of the washroom were made of thick, seasoned bamboo poles. There was a wash basin and a urinal inside.
Rolling up his shirt sleeves, he opened the tap at the basin and washed his hands and face. He looked at his face in the mirror in front. He hadn’t shaved this morning. The stubble on his face was thick, he looked terrible if he didn’t shave for even a single day. More than half his moustache and beard had turned grey even before he had reached middle-age. Of late, he shaved everyday so that he would look younger, but he had forgotten to do that today.
He neatened his hair with his wet fingers. He never used a comb. The slim fingers on his hand worked far better than a comb. He looked at himself in the mirror. He looked more handsome with wetted hair.
Returning to his table after emerging from the washroom, he was astonished to see that the food had already arrived. Steam rose from the white, pearl-like grains of rice. That unknown, alluring aroma emanated from the Mushkan’s Curry. The bowl of dal didn’t escape his attention either. A fabulous colour! He had never seen a dal of such a hue before. Not exactly yellow, and again one couldn’t call it green either. Tiny slices of red-green chillies floated on the dal.
He sat down on the chair. There were three kinds of bhortas on a plate. All of them were in the shape of balls. But he noticed a slight difference: the small, golf-ball-like lumps of bhorta were looking in his direction! The eyes and smiling face had been made with two reddish grains and a long, thin slice of capsicum.
He smiled absent-mindedly. He didn’t tarry in satisfying the demands of his hunger. He began eating hurriedly. As the food went down his gullet, he was entranced by the taste.
Ten minutes later, he realised that he had completely forgotten about everything around him and just been eating. When one was hungry, any kind of food was tasty, but he had to admit that the food he was putting into his mouth now was truly exceptional. The ordinary bhorta and then the dal were incredibly tasty. And he couldn’t express in words what Mushkan’s Curry was like. To tell the truth, he was at a loss to discern whether it was beef or mutton. He had heard from someone that if it was cooked well, it was difficult to differentiate between beef and mutton. To his further surprise, the slightly acrid smell that beef had was entirely absent. A completely new flavour pervaded his senses and that made the food even tastier.
After finishing all the food that had been served, he looked around as he licked his fingers. He couldn’t spot the waiter. His eyes moved towards the three people sitting on the faraway table. They had ordered something else again. Two of the three men were pretty big and fat, the moment you looked at them you knew they were gluttons. The men were eating something with spoons. As they took the spoons out of their mouths, the way they pressed their lips over the spoons suggested that they didn’t want to leave behind even the tiniest bit of what they were eating on the spoons.
He stopped licking his fingers at once. An embarrassed look came upon his face. As soon as he took his eyes away, he noticed that a bowl of soup and a glass with a drink had been placed on his table. He was a bit taken aback. When had these been served? It had been a long time since he experienced the uncanny sensation that he felt. Even before entering the place he had sensed that it was somehow mysterious, but now he thought it was actually haunted. For a few moments, he stared fixedly at the soup and glass.
‘Sir?’
Startled, he raised his head and looked. The same waiter was standing on his right hand side.
‘After you finish the soup, please pause for a while before taking the drink.’
He was astonished. These people were simply laying down what one would eat, and when! ‘But I didn’t order these …’, he muttered softly.
The waiter smiled for the first time. ‘I brought these two items because you had finished eating. Please taste it, you’ll really like it.’
‘Is everyone served food this way in your restaurant?’
The youth didn’t reply, he waited to hear something more.
‘Please don’t mind, actually I seriously want to know.’
‘Sir, first of all, we don’t call it a restaurant, we call it a guesthouse. You won’t find the word “restaurant” used anywhere here.’
The city customer raised his eyebrows. ‘Is that why a lot of items are served even if they aren’t asked for?’
‘Yes sir’, the waiter said smilingly. ‘The guest has to be served even if he hasn’t asked for it.’
‘But shouldn’t you find out what I’d like to eat?’
‘Based on the customer’s order, we provide something extra. We know what’s satisfying when eaten with something else.’ Without saying any more, the waiter left.
Sighing loudly, he took a spoonful of soup and put it into his mouth. His eyes shut in pleasure at the intensity of the flavour. Wonderful!
Gazing at the empty soup-bowl after five minutes, a question arose in his mind for the first time: what soup was this? He tried to arrive at the answer himself, but he couldn’t be certain. But he was absolutely certain about one thing, he had never had a bright green soup in his life!
Was this the “Soup of Life?” He had seen something like that on the menu. Perhaps it was. After all, the colour of life was supposed to be green. Perhaps it had been named so on account of the colour.
He leaned back in the chair. It would have been comfortable if he loosened the belt on his waist a little bit, but he didn’t feel like doing that. After all, he felt like laughing whenever he saw someone doing that. He then burped thrice in succession. Burps of contentment. He sensed how relaxed his body felt. Who knows when the tiredness of travel flew away! He felt drowsy. He didn’t have the habit of sleeping in the afternoon, but today he really wanted to. After burping again two or three times, he picked up the glass with the drink. Because the glass was a porcelain one, he hadn’t noticed the colour of the drink so far. Seeing the dense golden colour of the drink, he was astonished once again.
The Golden Pond drink! Wasn’t that what was on the menu?
Taking a deep breath, he sipped the drink. He was astonished once again by its taste. He had never in his life tasted any drink that was spicy as well as sour and sweet. It had probably been flavoured with various kinds of herbs. All told, although the chemical mixture that had been prepared was unknown and undisclosed, it tasted heavenly.
He put down the empty glass. He felt a flush of excitement pass over his body. A feeling of pleasure. Overwhelmed by a kind a dizziness, he remained seated for several minutes. As soon as he came back to his senses, he looked around. There was no one. He had no clue when the three people who had been eating at the faraway table left!
He looked this way and that in alarm. He appeared to be restless.
‘Sir?’
Startled, he turned around to look. Behind him, to the right, was the waiter.
‘Would you like to have something more?’
‘No.’ He then swallowed and said, ‘The bill …’
Before he could finish speaking, the youth placed the bill on the table.
Looking at the bill, he was astonished. The restaurants along the highway were like butchers waiting with sharpened knives to slaughter customers, but ‘Rabindranath’ was quite exceptional!
He handed three one-hundred taka notes to the waiter. ‘You can keep the change … that’s your tip.’
‘Sorry, sir’, the youth replied indifferently, he wouldn’t have been more than twenty-five. ‘We don’t accept tips.’
‘What!’ He was taken aback once again. Didn’t accept tips? Was he crazy?
‘Tipping the waiters is prohibited here.’
He cast his eyes all around. ‘After all, no one’s looking, keep it.’ Saying so, he winked. Without saying any more, the waiter left.
‘A strange place!’ The mumble emitted his lips. He stood up. He had eaten to his full contentment after a long time. He thought he ought to take a nap before doing anything else. Just as he was about to exit the door, the same waiter called him from behind.
‘Sir!’
As he turned to look, he held out the money towards him.
‘Your food is really outstanding’, he said.
The waiter smiled gently, as if he had got used to hearing such praise time and again long ago.
Taking the money back, he said, ‘I had such excellent, tasty food after a long time.’
‘Thanks, sir’, the youth replied courteously.
‘Don’t thank me, please convey my thanks to your proprietor on my behalf.’
‘Yes sir. I’ll definitely do that.’
He scratched his chin. ‘What’s her full name?’
After a moment’s silence, the waiter said, ‘Mushkan Zubeiri.’
‘Is she a local?’
‘I don’t know about that, sir.’ And saying so, the youth left.
He put his wallet back into his pocket. He realised he had to be more careful. Especially when he spoke to someone from “Rabindranath”.
