Zaffier's New Coat

I first met Zaffier Ahmed in Calcutta on Diwali in the year 1994. He was the cook in the Sengupta uncle's house that awaited me. "Aadab" was the cook's opening gambit to which I replied, "Aadab."

All of his cooking life had been spent as an absolute 'khansama' working for a succession of foreigners. He acquired skills and recipes to concoct an international cuisine which would equal that found in any five star hotel. That first Diwali feast provided a taste of things to come. Although it was "Angrezi" in content and style, he would quickly prove equally adept at foods from anywhere. The appetizer was a liver plate, followed by cream of onion soup. Then came the roast, garnished, sliced and arrayed in the best of fashions. Ditto the potatoes which were a gratin accompanied by two vegetables. The rolls were handmade. The feast ended with a deftly decorated cake especially made for the occasion.

From the day onwards my mother was in full praise for Zaffier. Myself and my brother were always in search of pickles, mixtures, chutneys, cookies made by him. We stayed in Calcutta for one month, though we had made our mind to return to Rourkela soon after Diwali. It's very hard for me to say how we were all so fond of him. He became the pivot of the two families in every matter.

Then one day we hit upon the idea of an Eid gift for our dear cook- a new coat. It was kept as a secret. All of us set out for the cloth bazaar. One thing led to another. This fabric wasn't good, there was something better over there, that lining was lacking, this lining was much more fitting and so on. Finally everything was acquired at a cost substantially more than we'd planned for. But I knew that our gift would not be liked by him. Anyway, when we showed up at Zaffier's masjid on Eid, he looked resplendent in the new coat, every inch the nawab he deep down really was. I- my joys knew no bounds.

Zaffier's first son had just been born and ours was the last household to be graced with his culinary expertise. He wisely opted for developing the emerging double chapatti market to have a fitting occupational legacy for his son. The coat remained packed away for those special occasions.

In 1997, I passed through Calcutta to find both the coat and bread routes were fine. In 1998, I spent four months living with a long retired Zaffier. His son and helpers handled the bread. The coat, worn but serviceable, was packed away awaiting the special occasion.

Now Zaffier's long gone; but the coat remains, still packed, waiting.