MY WIFE AND I CAN tolerate and enjoy spicy Indian food. Yet, once in a while, a dish can have such an excess of hot chillies that eating it is less than pleasurable. 

Last night (4th of December 2024), our autorickshaw driver, ‘M’, recommended that we try a Muslim restaurant that is popular with ‘local people’ in Jodhpur. On arriving at the place, Beli Chicken, we were directed to one of its several rooms. It was the one where men accompanied by women plus or minus children  could dine together. It was the Family Room. Another room, the restaurant’s largest, was reserved for men only.

We ordered the restaurant’s speciality, fried chicken,  and Mutton lal maas (a red meat curry, a speciality of Rajasthan). The chicken was perfect. It was some of the best fried chicken I have ever eaten. The lal maas had a good flavour but contained an excessive amount of fiery red chillies. The meat was easy to enjoy, but the sauce was almost painful to eat. By mopping it up with a paratha, it became more enjoyable.  When we had eaten most of the meat  we asked the waiter to have the left overs packed up. We thought that M or his family might appreciate it.

As we set off from the restaurant, M said he needed to make a short detour to see an “uncle” (an elderly acquaintance,  rather than a blood relative). This uncle turned out to be a poor old man squatting on a low concrete divider in the middle of a busy road. In front of him, there were a few remains of kebabs and other scraps of food.  We stopped next to him, and M handed the old man our packed food. The uncle put his hand to his heart to express his gratitude.

I was touched by the charitable action of our kind autorickshaw driver.