Piping hot steam era

Pitstops during a train journey added to the romance of train travel as hungry passengers got enough time to get their fill while the locomotives tanked up for the onward journey, writes Vijayasimha V

The end of the steam era in Indian Railways meant curtains for watering stations, some of which had attained iconic status with their food stalls. Huffing and puffing steam monsters once quenched their thirst at these stations, which became redundant with the switch to diesel and electric trains. These pitstops added to the romance of train travel in those leisurely days as hungry passengers got enough time to get their fill while the locomotives tanked up for the onward journey. One such popular halt was Kallur station in Andhra Pradesh on the busy Bengaluru-Guntakal line. It is not so much the station but its refreshment stall that regular passengers on the line miss today. On its overnight run from Bengaluru, the steam locomotive’s crankshaft works furiously as it labours over gradients and around curves, while the passengers work up an appetite as the train approaches Kallur around daybreak.

As it pulls into the station and stops with a squeal, the train disgorges passengers who dash to Mr Aithal’s refreshment stall with growling stomachs to grab his steaming idlis and spicy chutney, which were legendary and the highlight of the journey on this line. The spongy, white, fluffy idlis bounce as he tosses them into a patchwork of leaves stitched together with bits of twigs and tops them with a scoop of his famous chutney made of fried gram. Though Mr Aithal is from the Udupi stock, a community known for its culinary exploits, he dished out a spicy chutney since he operated from within the Andhra territory. Passengers flit between his stall and their compartment, serving repeat helpings to their families in the train as the engine slowly gets its fill. Finally, as the semaphore gives the all-clear, the station master strikes the bell, the guard blows his whistle and waves his flag, the engine gives a hoot of satisfaction and the passengers return to their compartments with contented burps. The engines and Mr Aithal’s idli cooker have long since stopped hissing but Bengalureans once saw a sliver of hope, when Mr Aithal was spotted in the city in the 1990s. Has he opened an outlet in the city? His reply wasn’t as easy to swallow as his idlis. He confirmed he’s retired, like those charming steam engines.

(This column looks at some food fetishes and secrets from a city of gastronomes and beyond.)