Hot! Hot! The air temperature had reached 48 degrees Centigrade in New Delhi! May in 1999 was the hottest in 26 years.
Oppressed by the heat, the local Indians shunned working, and so did I. On a hot evening, I took my family to a Tibetan restaurant, called the Lobsang Restaurant, which offers delicious Chaozhou dishes.
The Lobsang Restaurant is located in downtown New Delhi. The front gate, taking the shape of an arch, is cast in iron and inlaid with antique patterns. At night, colorful lights highlight the signboard.
When we got to the restaurant, many had been lining up there for their own turn. Those sitting in the waiting chairs by the road included Indians and European visitors. It is a three-story building. The first floor offers Indian food, the second floor Chinese food and the third floor is a bar. Both the first and second floors were occupied.
Upon learning I came from Tibet, Lobsang, the owner, became excited. He brought us ice tea and we chatted across the table for ages.
Lobsang came to India in 1956 and joined hands with a Chinese from Shandong to operate a restaurant. Now close to 70, Lobsang shows no sign of slowing down.
“I was born and brought up in a Qinghai area bordering Gansu Province,” recalled Lobsang, who impressed me with his strong physique.
“My family led a life of dire poverty. I finished my primary school study and started to hawk whatever I could sell. To make more money, I joined some others to do business in Lhasa, but found it hard to expand. So, I went to Yadong. My business in Yadong was sluggish, and this forced me to leave for India.
“I didn’t expect to see so many people in Calcutta. Tens of thousands of beggars slept in the street, and porters shuttled here and there with large bags on their backs.
“Soon after my arrival in the Indian city, I fell ill and did not recover until months later.
“One day, I paid a visit to a Chinese restaurant, and was offered a job there. I got up at four or five in the morning, fermenting wheat dough, making dumplings, making bean-curd, purchasing, clean and cutting vegetables, and whatever work I was asked to do.
“Three months later, I was given a pay rise. My boss, 50 then and a native of Guangdong, advised me to stay put.
“In the early 1960s, I had become a good cook in the restaurant. With assistance from people from Tibet and inland China, I started a shop selling Chaozhou snacks, dumplings, porridge and deep-fried dough sticks. Sometimes, I made bean-curd.
“I married when I was 19. Wife gave birth to a son for me. We led a happy life. In 1956, when I came to India for business, wife stayed at home to take care of the family.
“Most of the overseas Chinese in Calcutta were engaged in the leather business, and some other operated restaurants. I often served as their interpreter. One day, a friend of mine, who came from Fujian, invited me to visit him at his home. He introduced me to his daughter. Gradually, we fell in love and I managed to have her hand.
“We married and, one year later, she gave birth to a daughter, and later a son. We lived in happiness. At night, when our children went to bed, we sat around the table studying Chinese. For this purpose, we subscribed to Overseas Chinese Daily and Indian Business News. In 1969, we moved to New Delhi, where I joined hands with one from Shandong to run the restaurant.
“In the beginning, I served as the chef. To cope with the growing business, I personally trained a group of young chefs.
“Indians love Chinese food. They dine and wine here. Seeing the food so good, they return and bring their family members and friends to eat here, too.
“Visitors to India, especially those from Europe, also are arranged to taste Chinese and Indian food here.
“So long as China and India maintain good relations, we Chinese will have a bright future here. For the sake of subsistence, we pray for ever-lasting ties between the two.”
We stayed in the restaurant until 11 at night. The street was brightly lit, meaning the beginning of the night life of the Indians.
As our car started moving, Lobsang stood by to say good-bye to us. He kept standing there until he disappeared in the darkness.
LOBSANG: “I MISS MY HOMETOWN”
“I have been away for so many years, and I miss my hometown. Around 1985, I returned two times after a separation of 30 years. When my first wife planted herself in front of me, what I remember were her eyes, which I think are still beautiful despite the fact that she was about 50 years old. My son was working. They lived a good life.
“My second wife is sick, and so is my daughter. I am old. I yearn for a return home.”
