Chhadha Uncle

‘Sab waheguru ki kripa hai’. This is what Chaddha Uncle says when I tell him that the chicken biryani he prepared was out of the world. I had picked up the last piece of rice and eaten it from the plate. The whole plate had nothing left. My fingers were clean as well. ‘Please spread it among your friends.’ He requests. ‘These times are difficult’ I say yes I would do it.

Chaddha Uncle is tall and well built with an earring in his left ear. He has a thick beard. He lives with his wife. The first time I took an order from him, he told me his story in brief. He is in the catering business. He has served in the military canteen, in government offices, and at Universities. It’s been more than twenty years that he has been in this business. He never says that but I deduce that people love his food.

He has now started a WhatsApp group in society. His menu is regularly updated in the group. I mostly order chicken from him on Friday’s. So I do not feel the need to be in the group. But one can see users praising his food every day. They say they will order this and that tomorrow. Or that they want the same order today.

His biryani has a smell that enlarges the appetite. The color of little red rice on the plate pulls your senses. ‘Drink ke sath lijiyega. Tab pata chalega. Mere bahut se customers drink ke sath pasand karte hain’ I tried doing that but one can never finish the first peg before the whole biryani is gone churning in the stomach. The chicken is cooked so well, it melts into the mouth. ‘Marinate karta hoon mein.’ I believe perfectly that he does it.

In this god-forsaken place I live in, sandwiched between Delhi and the small town of Sonipat, Chaddha Uncle is a respite. There are no good restaurants close by. Swiggy does not deliver. One hears rumors of Zomato delivery but I did not find any locations on the app. And I bet restaurants wouldn’t be able to match what he cooks.

 ‘Cooking is an art form’, a friend of mine told me as he was preparing Maggi with tomatoes, peas, and onions carefully settled into the steaming noodle. ‘You must have a sense of smell if you want to be a good cook,’ he added. I saw him smelling the vapors, his hands trying to cup them, and bring them to his nose. ‘It needs time,’ he said to himself. I stood there revering his methods. When I cook Maggi, the method is plain and simple. Put water, put the noodles, put the masala, let it boil for a while. And that’s it.

I bet Chaddha Uncle and that friend of mine who now works in Canada would have become best friends. They are the practitioners of a form very few of us can get correct. But so many of us depend upon. The only thing I could cook for lunch in these times of Coronavirus is Khichdi. That too watery. Eating that khichdi day after day is like living on prison food.

I think versions of Chaddha Uncle should be there in every society. This way one would know what good food is and what an art form tastes like. Let's not forget that every art form needs its connoisseurs.