VILLUPURAM: Sekar Poovarasan sat on the Puducherry beach dejected, with his feet immersed in the sands. The waves came across uncharacteristically restful that afternoon, fully belying the turmoil churning away in his mind. It had been some time since he graduated with a diploma in electrical engineering, but any hope for him to land a job and take care of his ailing father was dashed by the pandemic.
As he sat there pondering over the next step, a sharp pang of hunger hit him. With a Rs 10 note burning a hole in his pocket, a walk to the nearby tea stall seemed imminent, but the heavy mind exerted much weight on his legs. An elderly stranger, seemingly worn-out and ready to drop, caught Poovarasan’s attention. The tea can wait, he thought to himself, as a wayward wave crashed the promenade.The then 22-year-old walked to the elderly man and asked him, “saptingala (Have you eaten anything?)”. A coarse reply escaped a weary face and unkempt hair, “Romba pasikuthu (I am very hungry).”
The youngster led the stranger to the stall and bought him a cup of tea. He drank it at once and looked up at Poovarasan. Gratitude may have been there, but respect pervaded the look. The look refused to let go of Poovarasan during his walk back home. His mind became heavier than before, but for some reason, his own pandemic-induced misery had taken a backseat. That was the time, something profound dawned on Poovarasan.
“No person should ever be made to plead or beg for food. If that should happen around us, it means that we have failed as a society,” he told his mother S Kuppamma. Before long, he convinced Kuppamma to shell out her savings and help him set up a food stall.
Today, if you visit the food stall Manidhaneyam (humanity) at Thenkodipakkam on Tindivanam-Puducherry Highway, accompaniments for pongal and idlies, would include sambar, chutney, and a warm smile. A cash box placed at the stall reads, “Let’s serve humanity. Pay what you can.”
Lots of office-goers and students now frequent Manidhaneyam for breakfast tiffin, and variety rice and vegetable sides for lunch. The mother-son duo starts food preparation at 5 am every morning and begins serving food by 7.30 am. “People pay us whatever they can, and the food is served free of cost for those who don’t have any cash on them. No one should go hungry here,” Poovarasan explains.
S Dinesh, a college student who is a regular at the stall, says, “I was brought up by a single mother who is now ailing. I don’t get time to cook in the morning and so this food stall is a life-saver for us. I pay whenever I can, and on the other days, anna lets me eat for free.”
The total daily expense of the stall runs to over Rs 1,000, but the earnings fall shy of Rs 500. The youngster keeps his food stall and his family afloat by working at an electrical service centre in the evenings. After some rest at night, the food preparation begins again. However, the ever-busy Poovarasan is at the stall and he still looks out for weary old persons walking by. Many usually do, and the youngster runs to them at once asking “saptingala? (have you eaten?)?"