Of Iddlys, Milk and Tea

There are fond memories from the college days.

So many professors and lecturers have taken class for us. Most of them were average. Never bothered to create a relationship with the students. But there were exceptions.

This professor, who hailed from the Kerala-Karnataka border, would welcome us with a huge smile whenever we visited his house. He would not even allow us to open the topic as to why we had come in the first place. We are to head straight to the wash basin, wash our hands and then he will seat us in the dining table. His affectionate wife will then place plates in front of us and will dump a mountain of iddlys. To this day I do not know how she used to magically get 20-30 iddlys in no time. They didn't have children, and used to look at all of us, his students as own children. No amount of protest that we already had our breakfast or lunch will make him or her change their mind. They will not let us go without eating at least 10-12 of those delicious king-size iddlys. "Young boys! You are at a growing phase. You need all the energy that you can muster", this used to be their refrain, peppered with some solid backslapping which will make us splutter. If we open our mouth to raise the issue that we had come to discuss, we will get an admonishment 'You should never speak while you have food in the mouth'. Finally, finally when we sit back relieved after seeing the last of the iddlys, madam will come with a huge, huge glass ( I have never seen a bigger glass than that in my life) full of milk and both Professor and his wife will sit opposite to us with a satisfied look on their face while we struggle to somehow drink the milk. By the time the ordeal is over, we would have forgotten what we came for and there will be a scramble for the slippers (albeit in slow motion as we are so full by then even to get up from the chair) and then to the gate. I still remember the faces of the husband and wife standing by the door pleased as a punch.

Contrast this with our head of the department. He looked menacing with his cycle handle-bar moustache, red eyes and fearsome look. But he had a heart of gold. We were welcome to his house anytime of the day. Whenever we visited him, he will come directly to the point as to what we wanted and start clarifying the issue on hand. His wife will silently walk in and place in front of us a very very small glass of tea (I came across a glass similar to that only after coming to Kuwait) and a plate containing 10-12 small round biscuits. Once when one of us smiled at this, he remarked, 'Son, I know you are not hungry. Do not look at the quantity. It is the gesture of offering something to the guest that matters. I am sure that if you are really hungry, you will exercise your liberty with me to ask for a decent meal'

Two contrasting approaches to guests. Who was right? A quarter of a century later, I still do not have the answer. One thing I know, I fondly remember both of them for their humaneness.