Tuesday, November 8, 2011

Gole Bazaar 1960s - Drop Inn

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Hotel Apsara tried hard but couldn't sustain itself for more than a couple of years. Similar clones of Hotels of South India of the 1950s sprang up in Gole Bazaar but shut shop soon enough.

Kharagpur town around Gole Bazaar just didn't have the ambiance (pronounced 'aambiaance' by my son) of the South Indian District HQs towns of AP. There were no typical white-collar clerks in Government Establishments with little work, less pay and middle class pension. The whole town is a Railway Workshop Township. And Indian Railways is a Welfare State. I think they had the typical 'in-house' subsidized eateries of Charlie Chaplin's Modern Times:

http://www.swi9a.com/v2/action/viewvideo/8870/

There was a wonderful rather upper-crust Railway Restaurant at the KGP Railway Station in the 1960s and early 70s on Platform # 1 beside the Superintendent's Office. It had the aambiaance of Colonial Raj. Huge high-celinged affair with solid Rangoon Teak furniture of the antique craftsmanship. And about half a dozen high tables with ample space between them. I used to often cycle down to the place on Sunday mornings and occupy a chair and relax with a Gold Flake packet in my pocket. And eventually a proper Bearer with an impeccable uniform would arrive. Often I was the only one in the joint, since the rates were rather high for the hoi polloi. And they all knew my 'order': A double-omelet with a couple of warm slices of bread, ample butter and jam, followed by a pot of coffee, a potlet of milk and bowls of sugar. There were no 'Table Cleans' nor idli-dosa-bonda-vada stuff. The ceremony took the best part of an hour, good enough for reading a Perry Mason bought from the Wheelers outside, or composing mentally the Introduction of a Paper. A small tip of Rs 1 (only) saw to it that you are welcomed with that warm smile the next time.

Gole Bazaar tried an NV eatery stylishly labeled: 'Drop Inn' on its High Street doling out Mughalai Parathas and their allotropes like Egg, Chicken, Mutton Cutlets and Devil Chops (what the Devil is that?) but it too shut down in a couple of years. The great survivors were the boozy Anarkali and the mishty Sweet India.

It was tough those days to feed orthodox Southee Brahmins like my parents anywhere outside South India. In the heart of Calcutta there was only one Kamala Vilas in the gully beside Metro Cinema Hall. In the entire town of Puri there is just one Gujerati Hotel just across the Temple. In the IIT Campus there was the Nair's Canteen...that was about all. Nowadays even in Hyderabad there are few Ajanta Type Hotels. In the Old City the culture is to have Bakeries that serve Irnai Chai and the couple of Osmania Biscuits that accompany it. Other than the high-end eateries the best of typical South Indian Hotels is the Heritage Hotel: Taj Mahal in the Abids...there are enough white-collar Gov employees in the Secretariat, Revenue Dept Offices and Banks around. There are quite a few Udupi and Kamat Hotels but people have no time nowadays for leisurely gastronomic pursuits; everyone is in a hurry; so there are many Standing Room affairs serving typical South Indian Idli-Dosa-Vada stuff.

The Ajanta Hotel ritual I described in the last post belonged to the Nehruvian Socialistic Pattern Days...lost now forever:

http://gpsastry.blogspot.com/2010/05/my-india-4-1950-55.html

I guess the cell-phone generation has lost touch with the olden days of my youth...no one talks to his neighbor...everyone has a bluetooth in his ear and keeps chatting with friends far away. Indeed, the cell-phone culture tends to blur office timings too. Punctuality is a victim. People phone in to say that they would be late or on leave or even 'working from home'. Everyone of my son's generation carries a laptop in its standard backpack.

Well...laptop bags do have their uses...my son often brings home goodies in his laptop bag from his US trips...

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What's that again?

"...Each team will compromise two students and a teacher, which is unique to the quizzing circles..."

...DC Page 3, Nov 8




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