T Suganthi sits inside a fort of four stoves with pans on them and pots filled with mounds of dosa and idli batter, deep dishes of rice, and tumblers of payasam . Light has long fallen and the first customers for dinner are making their way to her stall at Thiruvalluvar Street, Thiruvanmiyur.
The woman next to Suganthi has just placed an order for two idli s, and is untangling her young son from her sari. “One settu dosa, please mummy,” he says, clutching her pallu . “No, you’ll be too full for dinner at home! Two idli s are enough,” she refuses, even as Suganthi joins the boy’s attempts at negotiation.
It has been almost 10 years since Suganthi began running this stall outside her home. Her stall, nameless, is an extension of her own meals. Every morning, she decides what she wants to cook for herself for the day, and duplicates that, along with other options, for the people who come visit her.
So the lunches are rice thalis with sambar , kozhi kulambu , and fish curry to greens, mixed vegetables, lentils, appalam and oorga . The evenings are for lighter meals such as idli , idiyappam , pongal , payasam , and all varieties of dosa . “On special request, I add chicken for ₹50,” she says.
The 55-year-old’s day begins at 6.30 am with watering her potted plants. “After that I walk to the market, to get vegetables for the day,” she says.
In the following hours filled with chopping vegetables, mixing batter, cooking and serving, she manages to squeeze in a couple of hours of rest. The day ends when the last customer goes home with a full belly.
A Swiggy delivery executive zips past her shop; she has not taken to the digital platform, refusing to even name her shop.
“If people like what I serve, they tell their friends, who tell their friends. That is enough for me,” she says. In the summer months, her shop has seen a drop in the number of people eating there. In the mornings, she sells about 90 meal plates. “People prefer going to air-conditioned restaurants these days,” she says.
However, her low prices are still inviting: the vegetarian meals cost ₹60, ₹110 with chicken; one idli is ₹7, dosa : ₹25 and payasam : ₹15. It earns her a profit of ₹500 upto ₹2,000 on good days, helping her pay off the loans she availed to refurbish her house after the floods — the whole reason why she started this stall in the first place.
“Even after my husband left me, a year after my son was born, I kept working. I had to entrust my son to his aunt’s care,” she adds.
“Sometimes I overhear people talking on the phone, praising my cooking, or saying that they are so full. That gives me satisfaction,” she says.
Occasionally, she listens in on the conversations, trying to figure out the lives of the customers: some belong to big families, some are actors, directors, some students.
But mostly, she is lost in thought. “To be honest, I am just waiting to retire now,” she says, as a college student, a regular there, interrupts our conversation for the second time. “ Akka , are you free now? I’m hungry!”
This fortnightly column explores the different street foods of Chennai
