Tuesday 5 March 2019

Dhaba Tales

Eating at dhabas is a pretty good idea because the food is finger-licking delicious, the service is usually as quick as that of any fast food place, and the bill is usually so low you have to check twice to make sure you’ve seen it right.

Making dhabas gender-based places is not a good idea at all. Because why should one gender be deprived of this delicious option? And instead have to waste a precious part of life dressing up to go to some fastidious place that serves OK food eons after the order has been placed and then charges an arm for it, piling injury on top of insult. 

Dhabas should be open to all. All dhabas should be open to all.

For a very long time, the Afghani dhaba Al Madina at Al Asif Square in Sohrab Goth would be vetoed for a visit by our group of friends because it was thought to be unsafe for the female gender. Because perhaps the men there might not be too used to seeing women at the dhaba and would not know how to behave with them? The only solution for this was to go to the dhaba and give them some exposure. 

So after a lot of hesitation from one side and some strong-arming from the other, we agreed to head out to Al Madina for a taste of Afghani dhaba food. For the record, we women drove there ourselves, all the way up to Sohrab Goth.

When we reached the place, the menfolk entered into a concerned strategizing meeting to discuss how to keep their female friends safe. A male-only unit went in to reconnoiter and assess the safety situation for us, whilst some of our friends stood around us in a protective circle. After getting an all-clear, we were finally taken in a cordon inside The Men Only Den. 

Inside the dhaba compound, we discovered a mini-neighbouring country with shops selling niswaar, heavy-duty plastic slippers, watercoolers, megaphones, ropes, and checkered scarves.

We were led inside a ‘family hall’ that was surprisingly quite clean and pleasantly done up, with red curtains serving as room dividers and red rugs laid out on the raised, cemented baithak. Two other ‘families’ (this is a term that means there are some women in the group) were already there, so the presence of women was not such an unusual occurrence after all.

The owners and waiters were quite excited to see us, a big ‘family’ group - who wouldn’t want more customers and more namkeen boti orders? The waiters were the same men who wait on tables at any regular food outlet anywhere in Karachi; it did not look as if at Al Madina they would morph into monsters. They behaved in the same polite and efficient manner as the waiters at any other restaurant.



  

 









The food was delightful: rosh, namkeen boti, shorba, and Afghani pulao, accompanied by naan, fresh salad, and raita and finished off with cardamom mint tea served with sugar balls, almonds and candy.

Someone asked for paan out of the blue, and just as we were thinking how there could be paan at an Afghani joint, the waiter whipped one out – his own personal paan – from his pocket and offered it to us. Well, that was the level of service we received.

To add to the pleasant surprise, the bill came to an unbelievably low amount.

It was a small meal for us women (ok, maybe not so small) and a giant leap for womankind - to break the glass ceiling by breaking bread in a women’s no-go area. 

Do try out such places with your families – in suitable attire, of course - not only for some great food, but also to make your country and countrymen normal and safe places and people.