(pic courtesy: bikanerwala.com)
Like every other day, friends and I crossed the busy Pune University Road, walked a little ahead and took a turn to eat at our very own Bengali restaurant-cum-mess. The home-style fresh food and inexpensive rates had made the place our regular adda for the past one year. It was the place we went to from office for wholesome lunch.
We loved ordering Chicken and Onion Mughlai Parathas, egg
curry, misti doi (sweet yogurt), veg thali (rice plate with vegetables, dal, papad and baigun bhaja). The
food was fresh and filling. On days we felt rich, we would greedily order Chicken
Kausha, chappatis, and end it all with Gur Rosgullahs. I also discovered a new Bengali sweet that I absolutely
loved: Chaina Jilpi (a jalebi made out of gulab jamun batter). And of course, fish
chops (minced river fish fried till the cover turns real crisp) served with mustard chutney. The preparations were out of this world. After eating there for a year and a half I truly began to understand why Bengalis are known to love their food.
However, on that day we saw the restaurant reduced to pile a debris.
Was the meal we had the other day, our last?
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