Now and then someone from Nellore would come to Madras (now Chennai) to give me some eatables. On those days, they would take me out to have lunch at a restaurant which served authentic Andhra meals; Navayuga in Mylapore. The rice with ghee and pappulapodi (Gunpowder) which was served as the first course would awaken my dormant taste buds. The other courses were not important for me. Gongura chutney and an omelet or the fish gravy (ala Nellore Style) tasted like heaven and the meal ended with a course of thick curd served in a cup.
Perhaps this was one visit which always revived my connection to my roots so far as food was concerned. The evening snack at Boston was bread and tea (except on Sundays when we were served Bajji or sweet bonda). We were given four slices of bread and watery tea. The more enterprising among the folk would toast the bread on electric ovens, by smuggling the bread to the rooms from the dining hall. It was here that I learned to eat the bland bread with a sprinkling of coconut oil which was otherwise meant for one’s hair. Although we paid for our hostel expenses, why I could not relish the hostel food was probably due to the reason that it was given without love. The workers did their job mechanically and the warden cared less about what we ate and was more interested in reporting our academic progress. It was assumed that the hostellers could fend for themselves by smuggling parottas and dosas into the hostel. Competitions about eating idlis and dosas raged among the more voracious in the hostel. I could never compete because the accompaniment was invariably sambar which seemed to be ubiquitous. Sambar was an unknown commodity to me who was more used to the plain pulusu.
On the way to the school from the hostel, we went through the Boatclub. Abutting this junction, there was a shop called FAIR LANDS, which was like holy land for us children. The shop contained all the goodies; cakes, biscuits, wafers, chocolates, toffees, lollypops and other such condiments which were displayed in bright glass jars. We could buy a small cake or some biscuits with the little change we had, but it was good to look into the store, take in the delicious fragrance of vanilla, rosemary and peppermint, to spend some time away from the dreary walls of the hostel. By the time I was in X standard I became an ardent fan of the local ice cream vendor who would park his cart near the school gate after the evening session. I opened a credit account with him and ate a cone-ice cream whenever it suited me.
The Pesarattu which is common to Telugu households was a little difficult to find unless the family had Telugu roots. Our Telugu teacher in VII standard was kind enough to invite us to her home for a special feast on the day of Ugadi; the Telugu New Year. Such gestures endeared the teachers to the students. The monthly visit by my Dad, brought with it the Manubulu or Kajjikayalu made by mother and they were treasured but sharing them in a common dorm was also compulsory. Eating habits formed during childhood are hard to crack and back at home after a few years of hostel life, my cousins and uncles used to ridicule me for my preference towards the bland curries and sadams; Pulisadam, Takkali sadam, Thair sadam.