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Jun 4 2008 | Views 696 | Comments (15)

There are two easy ways to go to Chennai from Mumbai. Go to SantaCruz and board a plane. Alternative... Expand

There are two easy ways to go to Chennai from Mumbai. Go to SantaCruz and board a plane. Alternatively, you can take a cab to Matunga. And given the traffic situation in Mumbai, you might take 10-15 minutes extra to go to Matunga. But the savings are worth it I guess.

I asked my boss and namesake, Raghu, about good restaurants for south Indian food. 'Matunga would be an ideal destination', he told me. So, that is how I landed in Matunga. Except for some vibhudi anointed men getting into the local at the station, there was nothing which gave away what I was about to see.

I get out of the station to witness an avalanche of Tamil culture. There are loads of pindi vantakams. From appams to banana chips to jackfruit chips. Chaklis,burfis, laddoos, ask and ye shall be given. People were roaming around in lungis. Women in their saris, vermillion marks and occasional flowers on perfect display. It was as if every alternate shop was selling banana leaves, coconuts or puja material. Old and reverend Tamil Mama's with silver white hair and vibudhi were leisurely pacing the roads with a newspaper tucked in their arms. I suspect it’s the Hindu and I am sure they are in search of a hotel to sit and consume the paper over a hot steaming cup of coffee, of course in a stainless steel glass with a stainless steel cup.

It was as if I was in the midst of a road in Mylapore. A left turn somewhere and I might as well see the Kapalishwar temple and the adjacent water body, the koneru. There was no Saravana Bhavan in the vicinity though. Nevertheless, Saraswati Restaurant and the Udipi restaurant were alluring me with the prospect of the Tamil delicacies being served inside. But I knew better. I was sure that there should be a better restaurant than these two AC restaurants. I have had this philosophy that restaurants which take recourse to AC rooms, pleasant decors and uniformed waiters do so in order to conceal other weaknesses. Weakness in the department of taste. Ask the locals and they will divert you to the best restaurant. Of course, it might not have AC rooms or English flaunting waiters, but they are masters of Taste. For Mumbaikars who need a reference point, think of Crystal in Chowpatty.

So I asked a newspapaper selling Tamil tambi for a good restaurant and he directed me to the next street and asked me to look for 'Manis' exactly opposite to the temple. I chanced upon Mani's lunch home. Maybe the proprietors name was Mani or he was a shivite and named his restaurant after Manikanta. The restaurant didn't have an AC and I told myself, 'thank god'. The place looked old and quaint. But far from dingy. It was neat to the extent required. Pleasantly neat I would say. Not the excessive neatness I sometimes find in other restaurants, waiters in gloves, cooks in aprons and their white hats, of course, at the end of it all they serve you the blandest of food. Repulsive I would say. The place was awarded a Grade II by the Mumbai municipality and the accolades of being the 'Best South Indian Restaurant in Mumbai, 2006' by TIMES food guide. Looking at the place, it seemed as if it had hardly changed from the 60's. So, 2006 was like yesterday. The vagaries of Indianization, a Tamil restaurant was serving Chapattis in a thali. Aparadham Aparadham. The waiter readily agreed to swap the two chapattis with an extra bowl of rice. The food was as south Indian as it could get. Dasaprakasha in Ahmedabad had served me a comparable meal but it had cost me 130 and Mani was a little cheaper at Rs.30. I broke all precedents and tipped the waiter 33% of the bill. The waiter on his part, didn't charge me for all the extra appadams and sambhar that I gobbled. The gravity of my gesture you will understand if you knew of my principle of not tipping waiters. I am a student and he is a salaried employee. He earns more than me you see.

A block away from Mani's, you will find the 'Ayappan Dosa stall'. A sada dosa will cost you Rs.15. Masala, cheese, Mysore, Onion, podi, all the regular variants are available. Idlis, uttapam, vada, upma, everything that you can think of is there. Sadly though, the button idli was missing. Let me put it succinctly, the last time I had such wonderful Dosa was some 20 months back, when I was in Chennai. There are very few days when you blame yourself for having such a small appetite. It was one of those days. I headed back to the station, a content man, my paunch never so prominent before.

Tailpiece: It isn't as if Matunga is a ghetto for Tamilians and nobody else lives there. There is a small little Parsi bakery in one of the by lanes for instance. I needn't give you directions though. Follow the aroma of freshly baked bread and you will be lead there. Majority of the fruit sellers seem to be local maharashtrians. Well, I place my judgment based on the Hindi the fruit sellers were speaking. Unless a mutation takes place, I don't see how south Indians can speak Hindi like that. And all you north Indians who were brazen enough to smile or laugh at the earlier statement, pronounce Nungambakkam correctly and I will excuse you your smirk.