Tucked away behind New Market on Hogg Street is one of the most famous eating joints of Calcutta. Nizam's. Arguably Nizam's is also known as the inventors of the world renowned 'Kathi Rolls' which is basically a wrap made with a paratha and boneless pieces of mutton or beef or chicken kebab. This is spiked with slices of fresh onions and chillies, if desired and a squeeze of lime or chilly sauce. Nizam's rolls in fact, are legendary. And when we were growing up, you didn't have roll shops on street corners as you do now. In fact when I was in college, Kathi rolls were essentially snacks native to Calcutta only. Rarely did I find anything that even came close!
Luckily, Nizam's was pretty close to my Dad's office.
On Saturdays my Dad worked for half the day. He used to come home at about 2:30 or 3 in the afternoon. By then, we had all had lunch: my mother, sister and grandparents were all indulging in their afternoon snoozes. I had no time for such things, I used to be awake: planning the next mischief, sneaking around stealing pickles, reading, lolling on the sofa listening to music or whatever. I knew the sound of my father's key on the door. Often I would open the door just as he was about to insert the key in the lock.
Anyway, getting back to the story, sometimes my Dad did not have lunch at the office and used to come home on these afternoons with three Rolls from Nizam's. Two for him and one for me because he knew I'd be awake!
We'd get the plates and glasses out, careful not to make too much noise and sit across each other on the dining table and eat the rolls. We'd talk and share our lives. share jokes and generally spend time together, just the two of us. It was always special.
That flat where we lived now lies vacant. Or so I am told. When I pass that way I always look up but never see anyone at the balcony. But in my minds eye I can still see that dining room where a father and a daughter sits and laughs together in the pale afternoon light when everyone else is asleep.
Luckily, Nizam's was pretty close to my Dad's office.
On Saturdays my Dad worked for half the day. He used to come home at about 2:30 or 3 in the afternoon. By then, we had all had lunch: my mother, sister and grandparents were all indulging in their afternoon snoozes. I had no time for such things, I used to be awake: planning the next mischief, sneaking around stealing pickles, reading, lolling on the sofa listening to music or whatever. I knew the sound of my father's key on the door. Often I would open the door just as he was about to insert the key in the lock.
Anyway, getting back to the story, sometimes my Dad did not have lunch at the office and used to come home on these afternoons with three Rolls from Nizam's. Two for him and one for me because he knew I'd be awake!
We'd get the plates and glasses out, careful not to make too much noise and sit across each other on the dining table and eat the rolls. We'd talk and share our lives. share jokes and generally spend time together, just the two of us. It was always special.
That flat where we lived now lies vacant. Or so I am told. When I pass that way I always look up but never see anyone at the balcony. But in my minds eye I can still see that dining room where a father and a daughter sits and laughs together in the pale afternoon light when everyone else is asleep.
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ReplyDeleteThank you ever so much!
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