Six months ago, a fervent demand of Krishna Kumar Srivastava, a student from Uttar Pradesh, compelled a boxy eatery on the National Highway 16 here to introduce aloo parathas .
“He and his friends said they felt homesick and wanted something from the North. And now, 4-5 of them are regulars here,” says Ishpreet Singh, a Punjabi, seen tossing the flat bread on a hissing plate at the Shake Square every evening.
Although for many businessmen, professionals and students from other States, finding dishes familiar to their taste buds here has become easier and convenient, yet with tastes remaining incomplete, they are reluctant to call them homely.
“Do you remember how much weight we lost in the first semester?” Prashant Mallick, Krishna’s classmate in the fifth year of B. Arch at the School of Planning and Architecture, asks his friends, who nod in approbation.
“Even with familiar dishes here, vo baat nahi hai (something is amiss). Here, you get jalebis made of jaggery whereas back home it’s made of sugar. We survive only on chicken biryani,” says U.P.-born Parag Raj Vaish, who became a non-vegetarian thanks to “limited options” available for vegetarians earlier.
For Gaurav Das Swer, from Meghayala, finding mild flavours he is accustomed to is difficult. “Only curd rice tastes homely,” he quips.
As for food trucks now lining up many roads to sell burgers, hot dogs and ice creams, Krishna attributes it to Pelli Choopulu , a 2016 romantic comedy film that made the concept popular.
MNCs become popular
The students often flock to McDonald’s, KFC and Subway, and refer, curiously, to items served by the multinational companies, which stepped into the city after the bifurcation, homely. Even local cafés offering Italian and Mediterranean dishes satiate them. But, for Vijendra Ranjilal, a Rajasthani who sells toys and balloons at the Benz Circle here, tiffin centres and small restaurants are yet to offer cheap cuisines familiar to him.
“Whenever I am in rush, I grab two samosas. Everything else tastes spicy,” says Vijendra, of the Bagaria community, adding, “I mostly prepare food at home. Even my neighbours ask for rotis I make.”
Even so, the city is beginning to welcome diverse tastes, says 47-year-old Poonam Mootha, a Rajasthani who grew up here. “When I was in school, only Bhaiyaji Panipuri Walla in One Town sold North Indian street food. Now, you get pav bhaji and chole bhature everywhere.”
The change is more noticeable in terms of availability of non-regional fruits and vegetables to common people at Rythu Bazaars and with street vendors, says Karam Singh, a Punjabi who spent her early childhood here and has been in the city for 13 years as a consultant with an overseas education firm.
“I remember in my childhood when my father, returning from New Delhi, used to bring eggplants in sacks and distribute them among relatives fond of baingan bharta (mashed eggplant curry). Now, he doesn’t have to do that. We now easily get carrots and radish too. Earlier, they were available only in supermarkets.”
