☕ Six years of the same tiffin order and I froze when the regular guy was off

For about six years I have ordered the same thing at the same tiffin place near my office in Madhapur. Two idlis, one medu vada, and a filter coffee, which comes to 85 rupees now and used to be 50. The man at the counter sees me at the door and starts making it before I say a word. Yesterday he was not there, and a new boy asked me what I wanted, and I froze for a second. I did not know how to order. The boy was waiting and a line was forming behind me. I said two idlis and a vada and he asked if I wanted sambar, which has always come with it. It felt strange having to say all of it out loud, like explaining my own name to someone. The coffee came out too sweet and I drank it anyway, because I did not know how to ask for less. Today the regular man was back and he asked where I had been, as if I had missed a week. I told him I had come yesterday, and he said he was at his daughter's school function. Then he handed over the plate and added an extra spoon of chutney without charging me. I have never told him my name and he has never told me his, in six years. My wife says I should try somewhere new, because there are at least ten other places near the office. I did, once, in March. A new Udupi place with a long menu and a QR code at every table. The dosa was fine but choosing it took twenty minutes, so the next day I went back to the old place. Maybe that makes me boring, or maybe it just means I found my place and stopped looking. My brother says this is what getting old looks like, and he is thirty one, so he can talk. I think a routine like this is a cheap luxury, 85 rupees and nobody asks me anything. On Fridays I sometimes get a second vada, which is my version of a wild night out. Anyway, that is my confession for today, six years and one very reliable filter coffee.

The QR menu thing hit me too, I stood in a Begumpet cafe for a minute looking for a human. Ordering by phone felt like filling in a form just to get breakfast. Your brother can say what he likes, but an 85 rupee plate where nobody asks questions is good value. Also, a second vada on Fridays is not boring, that is a tradition.

I would not tell him your name yet, hydlocal, part of the charm is that nobody asks anything. Six years of silence and a free spoon of chutney says more than a name tag would. My barber in Tolichowki and I have the same deal, and the day we swapped names it got oddly formal. Keep the order, keep the coffee, and ask for less sugar next time the boy is there.

The extra chutney is the real reward, mine is a free second cup of tea at the corner stall. I disagree with your brother, though, a routine at 31 or 61 is just knowing what you like. The sweet coffee made me wince, I would have asked for less sugar and braved the line. Do you think the new boy will remember your order by next week?

I have a place like that near Paradise in Secunderabad, the old uncle knows my order from my bike. When he took a week off the replacement asked me for my name and I did not know what to say. Extra chutney without charging is how you know you are a proper regular. Six years is a long time, I would tell him your name next Friday just to see his face.