(Le Babaj-Kinara)
He had advised the BABAJI-Kinara. My friend was certain of his case, I was eating a Butter Dal Khichada to be back in top form after that night I slept very badly because of extreme heat or what I ate yesterday. So I went to this location to 20 hours to make her happy.
I sat and I ordered the famous dish. The head waiter, top-shaped, told me he had to leave London in two months to study before I do not know what to do blah blah blah. I really could not hear his speech, he bored me and I saw that the small head protruding from this server behind him, carrying his eyes shining with curiosity. Its mission was to perform secondary tasks: wipe, clean and carry away the dishes. leaders took place in a white shirt orders and talking to customers trying out with varying degrees of fluency in English. The little server must have 14 years and had probably left school a long time in the general indifference despite promises particularly current Government of Maharashtra and the central state.
Regardless, the small server was determined to do well and it showed again, I do not know why he had decided to get in touch with me at all costs. His chief of rank ordered "a plate!" He hurried to best fulfill its mission. He recovered a plate at the back of the room and began to rub. He rubbed the back of the room with such energy that big yellow plastic base that I could not detach her eyes. Then he placed before me on the table before deciding it was still clean. He was there before me rubbing plate. He wanted her own. He rubbed with all his might to and fro thousand times turning in one direction then turning in the other. What he failed to understand is that more and more he rubbed the plate became dirty. Like everything he wiped elsewhere with this rag.
I watched her little hand holding tight this tool would probably keep it in the pocket of his pants all week. The cloth was compact and as black as oil. More and more he rubbed it on my plate deposited the remains accumulated varied meals, dust from the air, the fat from his hand, the hairs of the cat that frequents this restaurant for research compassion for clients and he hunts with great blows of cloth, more so much more ...
The only indication that he knew of cleanliness was the duration of rubbing cloth on the plate. When he judged having accomplished his mission, he put the plate in front of me and smiled, pleased. Then enjoy the remoteness of the head waiter said to me: You Become from Sir? Come on let's not quibble: I replied Freiiinsse! Confident he added: "Sir birth stay Nashik purpose? "I appreciated the effort of this young boy to draw in trade between managers and customers rank the words he tried to use to make contact with these strangers who fascinated him. But then I had too many options. Then I selected the question: And you? He replied without flinching: "come Nashik in Maharashtra." Ok no problem! I understood the rules of the game: Whatever the questions and answers, he was exchanged. I exchanged it with pleasure. He smiled. Me too. I spoke Marathi as he spoke English and for those few seconds of free fun clean my plate of little importance.
Can we accuse him of failing to hotel school and not knowing the basics of hygiene when his superiors are worse than him? Ah! Cursed is the sense of observation that I have since I was born and became a real handicap in India.
The server that wipes the sweat dripping from the forehead to the neck with a spoon that will provide the client the ... uh ... not stop there enumeration.
Amidst my other unbearable ordeal consisting in the swallowing Khichada Butter Dal, (who said that in India everything is good?), I asked my new friend a bottle of cold mineral water per thousand gestures until he understands. He looked so happy to play the leader of rank when he returned with a bottle at room temperature, I accepted all the more cheerfully that it was water!
Well good, small server, I will not return in your restaurant disgusting, but well you deserve a tip for your sincere efforts.
All the best!
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