A grand tradition continues

AS I step into the compound of one of Chennai's gastronomical landmarks, it strikes me that here is one shop that is famous for what it does not have - the synthetic spit and polish of a chrome and glass frontage. In the middle of determined competition 'Grand Sweets and Snacks' maintains the kind of dignity and permanence that an ancient monument has. A two-storeyed house with a sloping tin awning welcomes you when you step into the courtyard full of shady trees, each with a low wall around it for customers to sit and savour the snacks that have lip-smacking admirers all over the world.

Keeping it this way is a deliberate choice, perhaps.... love for preserving the 'let's get together and make sweets' atmosphere than any shrewd business strategy.

What is this business model that has become synonymous with quality? Undoubtedly the taste. Murukku just melts in the mouth that my mother who is an expert herself, nods in approval. There are no compromises on the condiments, be it the hing for thattai or the pista in the milk cake. Only the best ingredients are bought. Oil and ghee for deep frying are used only once. They are sold at half the cost at the end of the day. The same goes for snacks that get broken or sweets that are not up to the mark, which of course is rare. No artificial colours are used. The only additive is saffron. And though it sounds improbable, the excellent prasadam given out in leaf cups every day attracts customers to its counters, just as the religious books that come as 'free-gifts' with purchases for over a certain amount. New items are added to satisfy a clientele that is growing increasingly cosmopolitan.

While I wait for Mr. Natarajan, the low-profile owner, I speak to Mahesh, his grandson. A computer graduate, he now oversees the day-to-day operations of the shop. He speaks of his grandfather in reverential tones. "I have no intention of changing the facade or the ambience," he says emphatically. "The traditional, homely atmosphere we present is our strength. It is authentic and unadulterated, just like our products. Even our ads talk of the beauty of our traditions. There is an openness and simplicity in the business that is greatly appreciated by our customers. Grandfather will not have it otherwise."

"I can't believe you wouldn't want to make a few changes here," I tell Mahesh. "Surely you have ideas." "Oh, yes," he smiles modestly. "Within the traditional frame-work, innovations take place all the time. Low-salt snacks were added to the list recently. Horlicks mysore pak is a very popular new item. I have computerised the accounting. I have also brought in packaging. Our powders are now sold in pouches. Snacks that are sent abroad get double packing with ticker tape and shredded paper. The kitchen staff wear aprons and caps and the front staff handle the snacks wearing plastic gloves." The hot favourite, 'Pulikkachal', the heavenly tamarind paste is marketed in plastic jars. Its plastic wrapping makes it possible to carry it on long journeys. "Soon you will find gongura and tomato chutneys in those jars," Mahesh adds.

The changes won't be confined to the kitchen. "I will be adding a lot of potted plants to the greenery in the compound. I want the place to look like a garden."

At 78, Mr. Natarajan, the grand old man behind the venture, looks frail. The chronicles of his chequered past - oil press near his village that failed, the ambitious but unsuccessful retailing in Madras that cost him his wife's 300 sovereigns of gold jewellery, her wedding sari he melted for the gold and everything else he had, his foray into transport business that helped him buy back his oil press and finally the canteen he opened at Manali on the strength of his wife's cooking for The Indian Explosives that detonated his success in the food business - are all but part of his appreciable effort to achieve something in life. Finding himself in this quiet part of Adyar, he opened his snack shop in 1982 selling three sure fire items - mixture, laddoo and mysore pak. (The count today is 79 sweets, 39 savouries and a variety of powdered mixes and 'paruppu thengais'). His plate has been full since then.

"It is all God's blessing," says Natarajan in his soft voice. "I started this as a service to the people. The accent has always been on quality and hygiene. I don't believe in show. I have not opened branches because I am afraid mistakes might occur and quality might be compromised."

"Why employ mainly women?" Shedding his 'patriarch' image for a second, he says," "Ladies co-operate. In some jobs they are better than men. Nearly 150 women work here and 50 men do the heavy work. I hire them through ads. We have young girls as well as elderly women on our staff. The older mamis pass on their culinary expertise to the juniors."

"And the religious books?" "The present generation does not know the difference between tulsi and vilvam. I want to spread awareness about the greatness of our country. You can say, it is food for thought."

A bunch of sales girls in 'fenugreek'-coloured saris surround me to answer my questions. "We are one family here, Ayya is everything to us," they chirp. Many of them have been coming to this 'house' for a decade or longer. The incentive-based system of payment in which each one gets a bonus on the customer served gives them that bit of challenge and takes the tedium out of the routine job. "Almost everyone you see has been a beneficiary of Ayya's munificence. Many girls got married, had children, built a house and supported their parents after coming to work here. When there is a personal tragedy, Ayya is there with cash and kind words".

I walk into the large kitchen behind to talk to the specialists. Several kilos of rice powder wait to be kneaded, shaped and fried into delicacies.

Twenty-two gas burners hiss while master cooks stir and fry sweets and snacks in huge vats. Venkateswara Rao of Andhra Pradesh cuts out Bombay Gaja, Rukmini mami rolls out wafer thin 'polis', and it is Ponnammal who is the mover behind the murukkus. Vaidyanatha Iyer cooks delicious meals for the staff and the out-of-town bachelor boys who live in the premises. The aroma of ghee, sugar and boiling milk is overwhelming.

GEETA PADMANABHAN

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