And so we end up at Samovar, sipping guava juice, thinking how wonderful it would be if nothing ever changed. If these little moneyplants inside rubber boots, hanging on the grill, were to remain the same. If the red paper lampshade above the blackboard were to throw light, eternally, on the specials of the day: guava juice, litchee juice, mango lassi, pakori jaljeera, kala khatta...If this paraphernalia on the table remained here forever, in exactly this sweet, cluttered, lovable arrangement: this red plastic ketchup bottle, the cane-wrapped glass holding paper napkins and straws, the aluminium ashtray, the bowls with green chutney and Samovar’s special salsa, and of course the tiny green ceramic basket with the yellow marigold inside it, its petals tight and crinkled and mysterious as the future.
Mm. So many prawn biriyanis and memories, "pot teas" and confidences. Alas, she says, good old Sams may soon go the way of the Wayside Inn. (Hm, sorry that sounds like a bad chop sockey movie, but bear with us, we're all nostalgic like.