EVERYDAY at around four in the afternoon, the office would start to smell like a crematorium. That’s the time the first batch of chicken breasts and legs would enter the flaming tandoor and come out semi-singed at the nearby Rajinder Da Dhaba. The finishing touches to them would be given later when the orders started pouring in at around seven. From then on till beyond midnight, it would be a big, boisterous party in the parking area outside the office. What would add extra zing to the party at the Kamal Cinema shopping complex in Safdarjung Enclave, where both these august institutions flourished, from fledgling enterprises to become iconic brands in the last 30 years, were the four thekas or booze shops (only two now because of the botched-up liquor policy of the AAP government).
From our second-floor office, we had a vantage view of Rajender’s kitchen and were privy to many of its trade secrets. I won’t get into the details of their marination process and cooking methods here, but there was an old saying—nobody ever fell sick after eating at Rajender. Anything that enters the fire and brimstone of those tandoors, anything that passes the agnipariksha, has to come out purified.
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