Opinion Kozhikode, best at hospitality, delicious meals — and no place to eat for one

Like most, I also have a love-hate relationship with the city.

I appreciate all the good the city has to offer — the weather, roads and public transport, a relaxed atmosphere that’s rare in cities, and friendly people.
I don’t mean to suggest that the humans here are better than elsewhere; after all, people are the product of their environments. When an act of kindness like offering a free meal for someone doesn’t leave you starving yourself, people can afford to be kind. Kozhikodans are blessed with the space to be kind, and exist with a calm energy, devoid of the survival struggle.

And above all, there is the Kozhikodan cuisine; by nature, the people of Kozhikode are salkara priyar — those who love to serve food and show hospitality. Even in restaurants, you’ll find the owners and servers urging you like a family member to have another serving; assuring you that they want you to fill not just your belly, but also your souls. Where else can you find such lovely hosts?

Yet, there is more to Kozhikode than what the cover page offers. The friendliness of Kozhikode is exclusively limited to those who fit its strict target audience criteria. If you don’t fit into it, you won’t receive any of that generosity.

It is a city where you can be yourself freely. It’s a land that welcomes people of all cuisines; as long as you don’t stray too far from their taste palate. As long as you don’t change the recipe too much by doing whatever you want. For example, dressing however you want. The city won’t shy away from staring at your bare legs if you are wearing shorts, or at sleeveless arms to let you know what’s not acceptable. This is a family-friendly city — be it the poster-perfect kind where the dad eats his full biryani, the child makes a mess out of his half biryani, and the mom eats the child’s leftovers; or the kind of household that orders an all-you-can-eat family-meal for the several women and children, and the single male guardian leads the excursion.

The non-family categories are rare. I sometimes wonder where young couples doing PDA go to perhaps share a milk sherbet with two straws? The young couples here struggle to eat while trying to manage the screeching children they had too early. What happens when a woman wants to buy something or have a biryani by herself? It’s rare to see women out on their own, not without a male companion. When was the last time that couple above 50 relaxed with tea and parippu vada? They are busy caring for their newly expanded family and grandchildren. Do they ever take/get a moment to themselves?

Where are any of the people that want to exist outside the strings of family attachments?

In the countless restaurants of Kozhikode that serve delicious meals around the clock, where can I find a meal for one? Not the humongous family platter, not the kids’ meal, just a meal for me. Where can I exist for a moment as a single woman? Not as a mother, wife, or daughter? Maybe even eat out after the sun sets?
I heard of a niche cafe, fun, open till late, with contemporary food, and real coffee. When some of us pulled into the parking lot, a bunch of young, 20-something, well-dressed men stared so openly at us that I wondered if they were scanning for hidden tumours. No one was eager to host us in that space. No one warned us that after dark, the space was exclusively for men.

There is always Calicut beach and Mananchira square for lonely souls looking for some peace and quiet. Even if I ignore the screams of children running past, the prying eyes make it clear that a woman hanging out by herself was suspicious. I try to do that thing where you shouldn’t care about what anyone else says or does. You should walk ahead in your own path and be bold. Under the intense scrutiny, the sour shaved ice turned bitter in my mouth.

Now, don’t get me wrong. It is a relatively safe city. But something tells me that this safety is different from security. The prying eyes make sure you go home before dark and stay in.

Maybe I am asking for too much. You can never have a perfect city. All places have their flaws. Maybe it is too much to wish for a place where I can just exist by myself — have a cup of coffee and chatti pathiri, a crepe cake — and sit for a while, alone with my thoughts or scrolling on my phone. Maybe walk around to get some fresh air and greenery. Feel safe doing it. I don’t want to be bold or inspiring or rebellious. I just want to have a meal by myself. In peace.

Ziliya is a writer based in Kerala