Shimla’s ‘Fascination’ with Baljees

Shamsher Chandel

Baljees and Fascination, as the first floor was christened, was one restaurant where you did not know whether you went out to or came home to. Baljees had you hooked. There was always a queue for mouth-watering gulab jamuns outside and inside and it used to be filled to capacity.

“It became a brand name way back in the 1970s,” recalls the owner, Renu Baljee. In a Hindi film, in fact, there is a Rishi Kapoor dialogue with Neetu Singh: “Tujhe Baljees ka gajar ka halwa khilaunga.”

Himachalis mostly eat like South Indians, with their fingers. It was Baljees that taught children table manners. And I was one among them. While eating, I used to mess it up till my wrist. Then, one day, my father took me to Baljees. As I held the knife with my left hand and the fork with the right, an English-speaking gentleman came across. He was possibly either the manager or the owner. He wished me “Good evening, little sir” and held my hands: “Sir, hold the knife with your right hand and the fork with the left.”

“The handles,” he said, “should tuck into your palms.” At that age, I couldn’t understand what he meant. I only knew my teacher telling me “tuck in your shirt.” and I would, as a Class V boy.

On the adjacent table, a girl of my age sat eating the King samosas. He went to her next: “Good morning, little ma’am.” She had trouble slicing the samosa using the knife in her right hand. Just by observing, he could make out that she was a leftie: “Little ma’am, are you a leftie?” Her father nodded. “Then sir, ma’am has to hold the knife with the left hand and the fork with the right because that is her stronger hand.”

This was not just my initiation into table manners, but also to English, or rather language etiquettes. While walking back home, I asked my father, “Can we address children as sir and ma’am?”

My father probably took the question casually and didn’t bother to answer. But “Good evening, little sir” remained with me. While growing up, I heard umpteen anecdotes from friends who learnt their table manners from this gentleman in Baljees.

As years passed by, the man who taught me table manners could not recognise me, but I would always make it a point to wish him.

In the early 1990s, Baljees started getting crowded, but that did not deter people from waiting outside till a table became vacant. But what brought them to Baljees? Good food, the smiling waiters, who were particularly good to children, the ambience, and of course the owners.

Ask Renu Baljee about what made Baljees a brand, and her simple answer: “The anxiety to satisfy the customer. Since my husband’s death, I was working 7 am to 11 pm non-stop.”

Renu Baljees says she is emotionally drained and tried hard to delay the eviction as much as possible. “But I knew it was imminent.”

It was sometime in the mid-1990s when I saw the picture of a gunshot victim in the vicinity of The Mall and realised that the man who initiated me into table manners was no more. Harsh Baljees died in 1996.

Twenty-three years later, Baljees and Fascination is no more. But the Fascination with Baljees will live on.