Leaves from the Trees (Sarbat A. & Nilla, JB)

Lad at Sarbat Asli in the afternoon sat at the shorter bench washing the dishes.

Sunk was on the other side; the lad sat opposite at the untiled bench covered with plastic sheeting, beside a small tub full of his thin dishes of green—ribbed banana leaves.

One had wondered over the years at these places whether it was a new leaf every time, hygiene and all that. There were still banana leaves at KV in Sing. Were they really OK in the Republic with the authorities obsessed as they were to the point of derangement, cleaning & re-using leaves? The health inspectors, municipal authorities, environmental police letting that pass? In Sing? 
         Such washing-up had not been seen anywhere before, Malaysia & Indo included. 
         At Sarbat Asli they might have taken turns each afternoon after the lunch hour. Fairness and principle. The boss here diced the ginger with his workers, after all.
         In the evening Nilla for a change, where the lad at the appam counter pulled a kind of swifty, the boys at the Football club might have said, back in the day.
         Six burners in a row on the stainless top, two pair of three. The cheap dessert was popular—thin, exceedingly thin wafer base, coconut milk & brown sugar spooned on the side. 

Couple minutes done. Delighted the punters. Chock-full of tradition. The saints when they visited partook these treats. Ads in India showed beefy older chaps licking their chops & winking at the camera. 
         Lad manning was presented a task nevertheless; not unlike a modern percussionist in an orchestra leaping across the stage to reach the various instruments. 
         Pans remained on burners the while, only covered when the flame beneath was shooting. When the 5 - 6 were going at once, the performer played his clattering lids with some deftness—lifting for a brief look and dropped quick smart. Wafer thin; easy to stick.
         Now, how might the fellow light the burner for each new order?
         There were no buttons or switches here. No electronic gun.
         You think a ciggie lighter in the back pocket fished out with sticky fingers? Reach for a matchbox on a ledge, or call for assistance?
         No, no, thrice times no.
         If you must know, beneath one of his banana leaves the man keeps a long, perhaps 8 - 9 inch twisted taper. Some kind of cloth or twine it looked. Close on 10 inches. Lighting transfers the flame as needed. 
         Mission accomplished, back it goes between the leaves and a little squeeze, a little pressure. Tamping down on the lit end. It could wait there for the next order
         Regular relief at that station it appeared, a load needing to be shared. Some of the other tasks around the place were much less taxing.
         As in every Tamil eatery frequented here over the six and one half years, a pleasure to be part of the furniture at Nilla. Combination of the lovely lads over the floor, great nutritious tucker, cost that can’t be beat—RM3.20 / AU$1.20—and diners of a certain fine, easy temper, unlike any Western establishment.

This, mind, even within the unappealing, echoing Nilla halls, with the aluminium chairs, fluro lighting, floor-to-ceiling tiling and no prospect on the street or temple across the way, sunken like that beneath the pavement.