Where's my Kohinoor?

Up till a year or so ago, there existed on Brigade Road an eatery which used to be the favoured haunt of those looking for a unpretentious place to eat and waddle away time.

I of course refer to Kohinoor Hotel, which has since now been replaced by a hole- in-the-wall tattoo parlor cum flea market for out of towners. One of those rare unsung gems on this much visited part of Bangalore, it took care of your hunger and chai cravings without making you feel you left behind a kidney to pay the bill. As with my bias towards single screen cinemas, I harbour similar feelings towards eateries that look time worn, squirm away from fancy décor and shiny furniture, while offering decent paisa-vasool khana.

This Kohinoor used to shine right opposite the KFC outlet on Brigade Rd., sandwiched between two gigantic sportswear shops. The only inkling to its existence was a Cola billboard announcing its name, and a red door which opened in from the street. The décor, if one could call it that, was all peeling buttery yellow walls, and sturdy wooden furniture of the kind you still find in small town eateries across Bharat. There were two massive overhead mirrors hung above the doors leading outside, and to the kitchen. These were quite useful if you wanted to check out somebody without having to look in their general direction.

There were two cloistered dining chambers for those who wanted more space to themselves, which were mostly occupied by a lovey twosome, or a local heavyweight with his minions. And then there was the inner chamber, a darker section with a menacing character of its own. I always used to sit facing it and imagine gangster dealings and shootouts happening there.

But what really made Kohinoor special is the ‘cuisine’ it offers, and those who deliver it to us. The reason being the menu - a largely above average fare of chicken and mutton and Kerala parotta plus the usuals - which smelled and tasted of Kerala and green chillies. The tea, which came in quaint white cups, some of it charmingly chipped and bruised, wasn’t much removed from the sweet brown brew one would get in Kerala’s tea shops. Not much for vegetarians here though. Three rows of tables, with a server assigned to each. And not one will budge out of his way to attend a patron in a different row. The maximum you will get is a shake of the head which means – “Yes I have informed your server and he will be here with you soon.”  

Where this little eatery scored, apart from its humble prices (considering its placement on this most pricey part of Bangalore) was the unhurried pace it offered, the relaxed vibe. This was a place to plop down with the shopping bags and catch a lazy meal with a chai or two after or before a movie at Rex down the street. Kohinoor offered a escape to a simpler time, a less hurried way of life, and I for my part, have never seen the place empty.

But times change. And just like Bangalore’s erstwhile tag of being a pensioner’s paradise, even Kohinoor had to make way for the demand of a quickening world.