Sunday Mornings are supposed to be my time. The rest of the family, even the dog, likes to laze in bed. But I, the incurable insomniac, am up and about and love to rustle up breakfast for the rest. Most of the times I work around Bread, Eggs, Cheese, Cold Meats etc.
Today however I had to step out for a Voice Recording. The studio was in Srinagar Colony. And I was through by 830. As I came out of the studio with the voice files, I got an idea. Why not I, today…instead of giving them the usual bread omelette kind of breakfast, try and give them something a bit more down to earth.
And nothing is closer to ‘down to earth’ than Poorna Tiffin Centre in Yousufguda.
I normally send my Man Friday to get stuff parceled from this place, but today I decided to drive there myself and get the breakfast packed.
You park and get down and it’s almost as if early morning Management Lessons are on. It starts with location of the owner. The vantage point allows him to supervise operations and also oversee the customer experience. And the little notes he scribbles as you place the order, sheer delight…amount and items are mentioned in indecipherable code and I presume, destroyed at the end of the day when the books have been tallied.
There is a section dedicated to production and one for consumption. Right in the middle of the eating area is a table that has on top, the chutneys, the saambars and the powders. And a man with a hawk eye ensuring you don’t take an extra of ghee.
All this is simple. Clean. Well, as clean as the circumstances allow. But the small rack of chilled Kinley Water Bottles, the waste paper bins, all make sure that you don’t have the fear of disgusting environments.
As I wait for my parcels, I look around at the variety of people there.
Auto Rickshaw drivers, taking a break and tanking up for the day. Young IT (typically Andhra) professionals nursing hangovers. Of late shift work or sheer debauchery. Middle aged men, bankers perhaps…whose wives have obviously told them to “Go. Make yourself Useful. Get us some breakfast”.
A couple of them look like Bouncers who were at OTM or 10 Downing Street last night, and are now just flexing their biceps and flicking their chest muscles before hitting rock bottom or the bed, whichever comes first.
There are also older people, their wives and grandchildren waiting in their parked cars. They have that ‘My Son goes to Microsoft…I go to Poorna’ kind of look.
There is also a young lady who finds the combined, even if benign stare of 25 men a bit too much to handle. And she steps out into the next lane. To eat quietly, away from the star gazers.
The amazing thing is…that there is no sound. Everyone’s purpose is clear. And who wants to use his or her mouth to talk…while the chomp on the idli or whatever, sounds like a better, more delicious idea.
If you haven’t been here, do take the trouble to find it and visit.
