Of Lunch Breaks and more...

He sits there behind an old, rusty, over-used billing machine, spectacles perched on his nose, his eyes tired yet darting around to check on each and everyone seated in front of him.

He slouches over his little chair all day, quietly taking his plate of food to a corner of the small hall before the crowd comes in each time. He looks up at the tiny TV set fixed high up on one corner of the wall as he polishes his meagre portions of dal-chawal-sabzi, wipes his mouth and gets back behind the counter.

He has only two people helping him serve the many hungry employees who come in for a bite, a meal or just a few conversations over some wafers and biscuits.

Anna, as we call him, (at most times with irritation) is our man at the canteen. Ask him for a plate of steamed rice and he would have rattled off the entire menu that could (or could not!) be eaten with it. It really did not matter that you only wanted some chawal! Tell him you want 2 chappatis and he would ask his man to give you 4. You finish your meal at last and go over to settle the bill and he would suggest a hundred things to have for dessert!

I was never one of his favourite customers as I found one too many occasions to give the old man a tough tough time. I either grumbled about his not-so generous portions, or his watery dal, his stingy jam sandwiches, or the runny maggi.

I silently smirked with my colleagues and friends as he, with some level of exasperation, would try to find a way to shut me up. He confidently uttered 'Ho jayega.. Chaka-Chak' as if that word would do magic and transform the abysmal dish to something utterly beautiful!

But soon enough my tantrums grew on him. He got used to and even prepared himself for the many trials my friends and I put him through.

He stopped rattling off the additions to our plate, but after suggesting I indulge in a piece of the plum cake next to his cash register, he would also remind me the next day of my gaining weight - chuckling with the rest as I seethed. So the old man was finally retaliating..!

That did not stop us from troubling him. As we left after lunch, we would at times sneak up to the huge white board with the day's menu written on it and re-create our own menu. So that COLD COFFEE became OLD COFFEE, STEAM RICE became STEAM ICE, CHICKEN CURRY turned into CHICK CURRY and BADAM MILK was now BAD MILK..!

He would never realise it till the canteen broke into titters, leaving Anna all flustered and miffed.

To give him some credit, Anna learned to laugh with us and lighten up a bit.

There were many times when we skipped meals due to our shoots or ate out instead. He would then enquire about me.

We had given our old man Anna, a slice of humour to spice up his bland canteen!