Eating Out

Perhaps the thing that we do most as a family here in Madras is eat out. With the last decade’s money boom echoing throughout the city, there is no shortage of fine dining establishments to be found. We have our favorite places and, after being here for one year, people know us well at those places, especially Kaia. Being privileged here with our relatively great wealth has allowed us to dine at places that we normally wouldn’t frequent as often, and to experience a side of life that we wouldn’t ever be able to afford in the US or Japan. As a result of our frequency to various establishments, Kaia is a well known patron throughout the city. We’ve taken advantage of the good buffets here in the city since he’s still too young to have to pay for, but often times he’ll eat a full plate. Perhaps the nicest spread can be found at the Park Sheraton in Alwarpet and we go there at least once a month.

Last week it came to our attention that we’d forgotten Sekar birthday. More accurately, he’d not told us that it was on December 3^rd. So, as a way to make up for the mistake, we celebrated his 34^th birthday on January 3^rd and went to the Park Sheraton for lunch with Joyce as well. It was the first time that Sekar had been to lunch there, and the third for Joyce and I wasn’t quite sure what to expect with their reactions to the place. Of course, Sekar is usually dropping us off and waiting for us to finish, but this time was a rather different experience for him. Often times on the weekends, we convince Sekar to eat with us—especially if we’re out of the city—but this was a bit unique since the Park Sheraton is considered to be the elite hotel in the city. It did not surprise me that he was feeling a bit uncomfortable.

Of course, Kaia knows very well about the “Pahku Sherten” and he can quickly find his way to the restaurant and even walks through the front door like he owns the place—we just follow him, and with the greetings of “hello Kaia” and the candy offerings, it isn’t so far off to suggest that he does. Since we usually eat lunch early (12:30pm), places are generally quite empty when we eat. This time, there were only about 20 other people dining at the time and most were foreigners, presumably guests of the hotel. As we sat down, Joyce and Sekar we whispering to one another and giggling like children, pointing to the ornately decorated facilities and formality of it all. With a buffet, of course, you start at your own pace and eat until you cannot anymore. Joyce explained the procedures to Sekar and they went off to fill their plates. In the past when we’re eaten out with Sekar he is (understandably) reluctant to order anything beyond simple—usually asking for curd rice. Knowing him well enough know, we’ll usually just order something that we know he’ll like—like a tandoori kabab—and save him the discomfort. Anyway, this time he filled up his plate and dug right in—literally, as he ate as most South Indians do, with their right hand. Just for the record, indiapapa (and Kaia) love eating South Indian style, but this time Joyce nudged him and gestured to the silverware. I noticed this and told him that it was fine to eat however you wanted and I’m sure that the food wouldn’t have tasted quite the same had it slipped into his mouth with a fork or spoon. After finishing the first plate he was off for seconds, albeit in disbelief that you went and got a new plate every time. Joyce and he giggled again. Meanwhile, the little Bear munched away at his standard fare—pappad, rice, pasta, shrimp, poached fish—with great anticipation for the dessert table.

After three plates, Sekar was sated and ready for the dessert table—ice creams, cakes and overall sweet heaven. We then gave him his birthday presents and wrapped up the meal. The total cost of the meal was around $60 and for Kaia it was just another lunch. But for Joyce and Sekar, who would have to be considered as middle-class Indians, eating here is simply out of reach—both in cost and status. I have said this in other postings, but living here with an expat salary qualifies us within the hyper-elite of Indian society: able to move and do just about whatever we please and still manage to accumulate wealth. It is not a place where we would be living in the US or Japan with our salaries—not even close—but it is an odd state of living to experience for even a short period of time. I am not comfortable with the inequality that exists between me and those closest to me here, not the privilege that comes with the wealth. However, it is a complicated thing and one that cannot be dismissed with guilt-laden confessionals or simple-minded charity. One of the things that I love about this place is how it has challenged me to understand these disparities on my own terms. Not through some PC colored lens or radical academic, post-colonial theory. It is much more difficult to chip away at the ossified assumptions and see what lies within—and what is true to you. Who would have thought that a hotel buffet would have this much to offer?

Why I Love this Time: Making salads out of plastic and wooden fruits and veggies.