We looked from the car window to find ‘Raju Ka Hotel’ – no signboards, nothing, no sign of a decent eating joint on either side of the road. All we could see were small shops selling all sorts of daily-use items. Some tea stalls, where small kids were engaged in different activities , one trying his best to clean the tea glasses by wiping them with his oversized, dirt-coated shirt, another holding a plate of ‘samosas’ for a customer. But now all of them were looking at our ‘Qualis’, not a common sight for them.
We were in a remote village of Bihar, in search of some elusive insights on development puzzles, but at that moment the search was for a place where we could get food, and ‘Raju ka Hotel’ was the best bet for us, as per the opinions of our hosts. We stepped out and asked for ‘Raju ka Hotel’, and we came to know that the tea stall we were standing at was the place we were looking for. We were supposed to have our lunch there. We entered the hut and could see people having food there. So finally we were going to get some food.
We looked around there were no empty tables (yes, they had some tables). I could spot one table where a kid was happily eating. He was enjoying his lunch, dressed only in shorts and with a ‘gamchha’ on his small shoulders. We headed to that table as there were three seats available. The kid saw us coming and the moment we tried to sit there, he grabbed his unfinished food and left the table. We tried to stop him and asked him to continue eating, as there was enough space at the table. He looked at us with some unidentifiable expression in his eyes. He muttered something to the shopkeeper and moved to another table. I asked the shopkeeper, and he explained: “Saheb aap log amir log hain is liye wo aap sabke saath khana khane main ghabra raha hai (The kid is not comfortable eating with you people as you are rich.).” We looked at the kid — he was still questioning our presence in that place. I looked at myself and my friend; we were probably stinking. Stink of money? Maybe.