Pineapple Mad

In Pondy, I popped into a dinghy little fruit juice stall. They made literally any fresh fruit juice of your choice, directly in front of you and for more than a decent price. It may have been the sweet little old man slicing the fruit which made me decide to choose his juice rather than all of the other more elaborate competition which surrounded him. This man had the sweetest heart, and you could tell just from his smile and eyes. From then on, he was my fruit juice man. I returned to his stall at least 3 times a day, buying a minimum of 2 juices at any given time. I became obsessed.

He made the best possible fresh pineapple juice I have ever tasted. In England I was never much of a fan of the pineapple if it wasn’t to be eaten as a freshly cut fruit.

Whether it was the juice or the man or even both which kept me coming back, I have no idea. But every time, I could see in his face and delightful welcome that he was as happy to see me as I was to see him.

The more I returned, the more I tipped. And I don’t tend to tip unless I feel it was truly deserved. But he deserved every Rupee which I gave to him. I’m sure he appreciated the fact that I did tip, but I believe he also felt rather guilty when I did. He wouldn’t like me to give him large notes before thanking him and literally running away so that he wouldn’t be able to chase me fast enough to give me back my change. This sounds peculiar, but I knew that otherwise, being the kind soul that he is, that he would never have accepted it otherwise.

Though to be fair, when I say I ‘tipped him’, I really mean that I paid for more drinks which I never got around to ordering or drinking. So I suppose that they were more gifts of money to ensure that his business stayed alive than any sort of ‘tip’.

Pondy really does seem to bring out my good side. This is my favourite place, hands down.