Demolition of iconic Giani Da Dhaba means more than just razing a legacy
There was still one final stop left. Last October, it was a pilgrimage of sorts as many of us from around the world collected on a hilltop to celebrate the silver jubilee of our class at Himachal Pradesh’s Lawrence School, Sanawar. After three hectic days of turning back the clock as we made our way to our cars, clutching onto memories old and new and ready for a journey that is always longer on the way back, we were aware this trip was still not over.
Driving through narrow bends nestled by pine trees in the Shivalik Hills that were still as familiar as when we were teenagers, our convoy of cars pulled over on the Kalka-Shimla Highway, and we edged our way into a dhaba that overlooked more vehicles than the hills surrounding it. It was as we remembered it, students and their parents, tourists all packed into a place that was once a tiny nondescript room, but even after expanding with the times, wasn’t big enough for its loyal customers.
"Giani Da Dhaba" with its legendary welcome board that had the picture of a chicken with the tagline — "meet me anywhere but eat me here" — was razed to the ground earlier this week, more than 40 years after a young sardar, now an old gnarled man, started the family business in the tiny town of Dharampur, just kilometres from the tourist town of Kasauli.
He could never have dreamt then that the name of his ordinary eatery would spread so far. Today the busy highway is getting ready for a four-lane expansion and frequent tourists and visitors are lamenting how their butter chicken and naan will never be the same again.
But for many of us who lived just behind the hill on which the dhaba always seemed precariously perched and for a few years were the most frequent locals in the house, it represented much more. The dhaba was our breath of freedom, for a few stolen hours the smell of pine and deodhar trees amongst which it was nestled was most refreshing. It was our comfort place and not only because of the food. Much like an Enid Blyton book, in our innocence it gave us our sense of adventure.
Old students reminiscence how seniors would send them running downhill in the darkness of the night, not many of us though can remember the distance, when you are sneaking out from boarding school the stretch becomes meaningless. The boys would return with food from the dhaba at 4 in the morning for the seniors and then were up with the bell two hours later as though they had never tasted the forbidden.
A time came when staff members were put on duty from 2am-4am and there was a chase or two around the hills!
An old student from Nepal remembers with nostalgia how after lights out in the dormitory, he went to celebrate with his friends, his father had just been nominated as the foreign minister of Nepal, and there was no better way for him to mark the occasion. He still fondly recollects how in Nepal he has never tasted better food.
Over the years, the Shimla-Kalka Highway became popular just because of this dhaba and with no Zomato in the day, its name spread only through word of mouth. But think about it, even away from city lights and as far away to fancy as is possible, it showed how a job well done with a little touch of earthiness is the only recipe for success.
Our parents started eating there out of lack of choice, but soon they were converts. And now that we have become them that butter chicken still gives us a whiff of our youth.
Decades have gone by and we still love that highway curve, it is as though mysteriously the dhaba still found us. But year after year, we loved to be surprised. Occasionally, it’s been a victim to the sheer numbers at its door, and the tandoori paranthas lacked that something, but we had a connect.
The Giani’s wife always looked grumpy behind the counter, but most of us could barely restrain ourselves from hugging her. Her son, who was running the place till it was demolished, promises that they will be back in two weeks, even if it means running it from their home on the same hill.
It may be easier said than done. A replica is seldom the real thing, and getting embroiled in permissions is even more tedious than the bends and turns of the hills. But without it, the echo of children’s voices who leave their folks behind in the plains but embrace a rustic family in the mountains, like we did decades ago, will never be the same.
Giani Da Dhaba is almost folklore in it’s tiny corner of the world and many of us will now cross the Shimla-Kalka highway without stopping.
Swiss Philosopher Henri Amiel once wrote, "the best path through life is the highway". He wouldn’t have known we would take it literally.
This road in the middle of nowhere was our little pause, away from the fast pace of everyday life. The reviews didn’t always do it justice, the digital world tends to miss the real touch.
But we live in anticipation, hoping someday soon the dhaba is back, reclaiming it’s place back in our memories while also serving us our favourite Punjabi tadka with a side dish of memories for another generation.