If you have been following my journey from the beginning, you will know that I took my wife Rekha to Velu Military Hotel in Nungambakkam on our first date.
You should know that it was not the kind of place where a man in his sane mind would take a girl he was trying to impress.
Other men take women to places where they can look into their eyes and say, “You look beautiful tonight.”
I took Rekha to a place where the waiter shouted, “One biryani, two parotta, one brain fry!”
Maybe not the same items, and definitely not the same order…but you get the gist.
In my defence, I was being authentic. But if there is any doubt about who took the bigger risk in this relationship, let us settle it right here – it was Rekha.
If you have read enough of what I have written, you may also know the next part of the story.
After eighteen-plus months of roaming around together, Rekha had proposed marriage.
At that time, I thought I was a playboy, and a blessing to the women around me. So when Rekha asked me to marry her, I decided this was the right time to drop her and move on to the next girl.
Then a marriage proposal from a Creative Director at Lintas came along and when Rekha whet to meet him and his family, this playboy discovered that he did not like competition.
The moment another man entered the frame, I realised that I wanted Rekha near me all my life.
But when I went back to Rekha saying, “I am ready for marriage,” she refused…after all she had to take revenge. So for almost a year, I tried to impress her.
And it was during this phase that I first took her to a good restaurant.
—-X—-X—-
When we were going out, knowing my weakness for dates, she would suddenly ask, “When is my birthday?”
5 July is Rekha’s birthday. But more often than not, I would fail this test. Not that Rekha would get angry…one doesn’t leave a good prospect just because he can’t remember your birthday.
But she would ask again later.
So I figured out a way to remember her birthday. I decided the moment she asks I have to remember the number 75 – 5th day of the 7th month.
So when she asked me again…my mind immediately rushed to the number 75. But I forgot which was the date and which was the month, so a few times I ended up saying 7th May.
Almost five years into our relationship I started getting it right.
I love the fact that it is in the beginning of the month – the time young working men still have salary in their accounts and behave like industrialists.
If her birthday had been on 25 July, our romantic dinner may have been two egg puffs and one tea shared outside a bakery (mostly manned by a Malayali).
So when the month of July started, I started doing my research.
I knew Rekha loved Chinese food. Even now, if we order food three times on Zomato, one order will definitely be Chinese. If Rekha had it her way, all three would be Chinese.
Of course, one out of three times, she will have an upset stomach the next day, but that has never affected her commitment to Indo-Chinese cuisine.
This is where she and I differ because I am kind of anti-Chinese….I don’t particularly favour Chinese food.
But then Rekha loved Chinese, and I loved Rekha. So I decided to take her to a Chinese restaurant.
Back then, we had no Zomato, Swiggy, DineOut etc. So I asked around among friends and colleagues for a good Chinese restaurant.
Finally, Wasim Farook pointed me towards Liu’s Waldorf near Madhya Kailash in Chennai. He said it was good and decently priced.
Liu’s Waldorf was just a few kilometres from Tidel Park, where we worked, and because I was trying to impress the girl I wanted to marry, I decided to risk Chinese food.
Before going, I withdrew ₹800 from the ATM. Today, ₹800 is what Zomato charges you for looking at the app, but back then you could fine dine with a girl with that kind of money. It probably wiped my account dry…but it was Rekha’s birthday, so it didn’t matter.
After work, I dropped Rekha at her hostel so she could get ready.
Back then, girls did not have twenty categories of outfits. I don’t remember what Rekha wore that evening – it could have been a T-shirt and jeans or a maybe a churidar. Not sure today.
I only remember that whatever she wore, she looked like someone worth spending my full salary balance on. Which I still do (if you check my bank balance you will know this is true).
I got ready too. By “get ready,” I mean I either went to my place and washed my face, or I bought one ₹1 water packet, tore it with my teeth, washed my face on the roadside, and declared myself handsome.
I waited outside her hostel, and once she came out, we rode away to Liu’s Waldorf for dinner.
More than her birthday dinner, it was my redemption dinner.
Liu’s Waldorf was not what people would call a classic fine-dining restaurant. It was a small restaurant with history.
It is right next to IIT Madras, and opposite Anna University…so it had seen many students. And then there were officegoers, families, couples, hungry bachelors, homesick Chinese-food lovers, and probably many fools like me who had come there to impress a girl beyond their financial capacity.
It had that old-Chennai feel. It isn’t shiny at all, but it’s a restaurant that had survived because people came back for taste, memory, and familiarity.
We found a cosy corner at Liu’s Waldorf and sat down. When I picked up the menu I realized that a restaurant menu looks different when you are with a girl you want to impress.
Every item in the menu asks, “How much do you love her?” and every price mentioned on the right hand side asks, “Are you sure?”
I don’t remember everything we ordered that day but I remember the soup.
Rekha and I have loved hot and sour chicken soup from our dating days. Even today, hot and sour chicken soup is almost a family favourite. Some families pass down land, some pass down gold, and we have passed down our soup preferences.
But that day, since it was a proper Chinese restaurant, we ordered Wonton Soup. For me, Wonton Soup tasted like Want-Not soup….but I didn’t tell her.
Dating teaches men many things, and one of the first things it teaches is silence. If a girl you love is enjoying soup, you don’t say, “This tastes like a wet mat thrown on the water that leaked from the kitchen sink.”
Instead you say, “Isn’t this nice?” Then you drink slowly and hope the day will get better.
Because apart from hot and sour chicken soup, one of our long-time favourites has been chilli beef. So I am sure we ordered chilli beef.
Then we must have ordered some main course, probably fried rice, because I cannot eat noodles with fork and spoon.
I am fifty-plus and still cannot manage noodles in a restaurant without looking like I am trying to defuse a bomb, which can only be defused if you eat all the wires. So fried rice must have been the safer option.
Everything went well….Rekha’s birthday dinner was going according to plan.
Then the waiter came and asked, “Sir, would you like to order anything else?”
This is the sentence that has financially destroyed many boyfriends. The correct answer to this question is always, “No, thank you. Bill please.”
But when you are trying to impress the girl you want to marry, the brain does not work. The brain hands over control to the heart.
And having been in such situations many times, I can guarantee you that the heart is a stupid organ. Why else would it start beating faster when a pretty girl is around?
Anyway, for now let us keep the focus on Rekha. So I turned towards Rekha and asked, “What do you say?”
She was eating a piece of chilli beef and said, “If you want… I don’t mind trying one more item.”
Please note the genius of that sentence. It has “If you want,” “I don’t mind,” and “One more item.”
She didn’t demand anything, neither did she refuse. There was no pressure on me to order, and yet I was obligated to.
I looked at the waiter and asked, “So, what is special here?”
The waiter’s eyes lit up. Another bakra, he must have thought.
He straightened slightly and said with full discipline, “Waldorf Special Prawns, sir.”
The way he said it should have alerted me. The only thing he didn’t do was click his heels and salute me.
I looked at Rekha.
“Prawns?”
“Oh, I love prawns,” she said.
Now, when a man says he loves prawns, he means he can eat a plateful of them. When a woman says she loves prawns, it means she can eat two. Maybe three if she has to walk home from the restaurant. But I did not know this then.
With a wave of my hand, which was supposed to make Rekha think, “Wow, what a decisive man,” I sent the waiter to fetch a plate of Waldorf Special Prawns.
I think this is how restaurants make most of their money – from boyfriends who want to impress girlfriends. Because after marriage, the same man will ask, “Do we really need starters?”
Then the plate of Waldorf Special Prawns came and it was massive. There must have been at least fifteen king-sized prawns. Each one looked as if it was a protein-consuming-gym-going prawn.
The moment I saw the plate, I knew the waiter had played me. He placed it on the table with the calm confidence of a man who had trapped many before me. I could almost see the smirk on his face.
I am sure somewhere in his house he had a wall where he maintained a count – “Fooled customer number 1012 with special prawn trick.”
Rekha looked at the plate and said, “Oh wow, this looks so tempting.”
Then she took two prawns and kept them on her plate.
“Take some more, Rekha,” I urged her. Because I definitely did not want to eat thirteen king-sized prawns.
“Oh, I am so full,” she said.
Deep inside, I was getting angry. I wanted to ask, “Then why did you want the prawns?”
But I could not because I was in the one-year-impress-Rekha phase. A man cannot lose a girl because of a plate of prawns.
So I smiled and said, “Okay, okay.”
Then I started eating prawns….but couldn’t go beyond three. So we literally had 10 of them still left on the plate.
Finally it was time for the bill to arrive, and I still remember the look on the waiter’s face. He did not even look me in the eye…because maybe he was guilty. Maybe he knew that this lower-middle-class boy trying to act fancy had walked into a trap.
As expected the Waldorf Special Prawn was the costliest item we had ordered. I don’t remember the exact bill, but I remember that I had only ₹800 and that was not enough.
So on her birthday, after taking Rekha to an expensive Chinese restaurant to impress her, I had to borrow money from her to pay the bill.
I don’t remember if I returned her that money. Knowing me, probably not….but knowing her, I am sure she has it written somewhere in her notebook.
I remember we would later pack the remaining prawns and go to our office in Tidel Park, and give it to my friend R Krishnakumar – he used to work night shift on the news desk.
—-X—-X—-
Over the years, I have acquired a liking for Chinese food. It is still not my first choice. But in marriage, who cares about the husband’s first choice?
If Rekha says Chinese, we eat Chinese.
If I say South Indian, she says, “Didn’t we just have masala dosa last week?”
If I say North Indian, she says, “Nah…it will be too heavy.”
If I say biryani, she says, “We ordered biryani in office last month, remember?”
Then she says, “Let us order Chinese.”
And I will smile and say, “Good idea.”
And that’s how we take all decisions in this house – by consensus.
Two weeks back, we had gone to Anna Centenary Library to borrow books for Ritwik and after that we were supposed to head out for lunch.
And then it occurred to us.
“Hey, why not Liu’s Waldorf? That’s nearby.”
Rekha became excited immediately.
“Yes, yes… let’s relive the memories twenty-plus years later. And this time with our kids.”
That is when it hit me – we were going to the same restaurant, and now with our kids.
Back then, I had taken Rekha there on my Yamaha, with ₹800 in my pocket and fear in my heart. This time, we were going with our children, in a car, with cards, UPI, and lots of cholesterol.
Going back to Liu’s Waldorf felt strange….for it had definitely changed.
Liu’s Waldorf has been renovated, but old restaurants don’t live in their walls alone….they live in your memory, in the smell of soup, and the way you remember who sat across the table.
They live in the bill you could not pay, and they also live in the one plate of prawns that still brings a smile on your face.
Rekha and I were sitting next to each other in the restaurant. Usually, Rekha does not hold my hand in restaurants…but that day she sat close to me and held my hand under the table.
And for a few seconds, the restaurant, the kids, the menu and the food on the table disappeared. It was just Rekha and me.
But the kids found out something was amiss….and teased us about it. It felt good.
I looked at her and suddenly thought: maybe that day itself, twenty-plus years ago, she knew she was going to marry me.
Maybe when I took her to Liu’s Waldorf on her birthday, badly dressed, underfunded, overconfident, and ready to fight the world with ₹800, she already knew.
Maybe she knew that I was not polished, but I was sincere.
Maybe she knew that I did not understand Chinese food, but I understood that she loved it.
Maybe she knew that I could not afford Waldorf Special Prawn, but I would still order it if it made her smile.
Maybe she knew that I was a little foolish. Okay agree…not little.
Yet she took a gamble…and thought “maybe I can make him a better man.” And maybe that’s how I became her pet project.
Afterall, every husband is his wife’s pet project.