Perhaps You Would Like Chinese?

Summary: Folks here often mean well, but can be incredibly frustrating. The restaurant we ate at last night didn’t have much to offer in terms of available food options, but they did have plenty of Chinese food just for me.

Last night, some friends and I decided to have dinner at Aryan’s, a local chain. My head was already spinning when I entered the restaurant, and the folks at Aryan’s just made it worse. Not only did they not have anything I wanted to order, but they redirected me to the frickin’ Chinese menu. This is the second time the ever-helpful Aryan’s waiters have done this, and I’ve only been thrice!

Here’s an excerpt of our conversation:

Me: Can I have the Bengal / Goan fish curry please?
Waiter: No fish. (At least this is what I think he said.)
Me: Hm…well then, how about the chicken curry?
Waiter: (Checks with kitchen and returns.) Sorry, m’am.
Me: (Increasingly frustrated) Let’s see about vegetables then. How about this one?
Waiter: (Smiles uncomfortably and shakes his head.)
Me: (Dangerously close to anger.) I give up. Anna, please take care of this for me.
Anna: Do you have the dhal makhani?
Waiter: Sorry, m’am.
Me: Well, then, can you please tell me what you do have???
Waiter: (Takes menu and points to Chinese section.)
Me: (Smacks hand on table only half-jokingly.) That’s it, I’m walking out of here. I’m done.
Anna: (To waiter) She wants a vegetable with gravy, but not Chinese. What’s available?
Waiter: (Confused, points to Chinese section again.)

Sure, there’s a part of me that knows they’re only trying to be helpful, the same way they were trying to help when they came to our table 10 minutes after we ordered had the following exchange with us:

“Did you order a curry?”
“No.”
“But you’ve ordered some naan. Did you also want to order curry to go with the naan?”
“Sir, we know what we ordered. Don’t worry, we’ll be fine.”

People trying to be helpful can be flustering sometimes. But sometimes they’re just as confused as we are.

Note: Admittedly, my experience in Lucknow has been sprinkled (well, drenched) with frustrating experiences like this one. Take, for example, the guys who deliberately tried to run us over with their motorcycles. Or constantly being stereotyped into a mold, whether it be Chinese, American, foreign, female, (meat?,) or any combination of the above.

In spite of all this, I have no regrets about being here, and I am incredibly grateful for this experience. There are many things, both tangible and intangible, I appreciate about living here. Perhaps I vent because venting is a survival mechanism; the empathy elicited validates my reactions and emotions, and the humor that results from retelling the story helps me put the experience behind me.