Roshan Sureka
Google
I’m not from Bangalore, but I’m a frequent visitor. I seldom have work in the city—I visit Bangalore only to chill, revisit my favourite haunts, and discover new ones.
Koshy’s has been one of those haunts for as long as I’ve known the city. My parents and I would stay at the Bowring Club (just around the corner from Koshy’s), and in the pleasant Bangalore evenings, we’d pop out for a cuppa and a snack. There was always this lovely, chatty buzz in the air—you just got the feeling that everyone there was a proper foodie, and a non-vegetarian one at that. My parents always ordered the ham sandwich and maybe another little something, but I honestly don’t remember anything else, and for good reason. Even now—some 20 years later—whenever I go, I still order the same ham sandwich I did when I was ten. There’s nothing fancy to it—just white bread, butter, and ham, neatly stacked, crusts trimmed, and halved at some random angle.
I like to sit by the window, read a book, and have slow conversations with a friend. That’s the ideal Koshy’s day or evening for me. Once, as I sat at my usual window spot, I saw a waiter carrying a glass of iced tea with a shot of something on the side. He reached the table, gave a slight nod, and casually dropped the shot into the tea. I had to know what that was. He told me it was rum and iced tea, and asked if I wanted one. Of course I did. I asked for two—one for me and one for my mate. We had two more each after that, and the evening got funnier, as it tends to with us dribbling away. We hobbled out the door grinning, just in time to catch a tuk.
And that, really, is the vibe at Koshy’s. It’s not an institution from your time, and your expectations need adjusting. You sit. You wait. You let things happen as they will. And you don’t go around ordering whatever you think you might like from the menu. You order the ham sandwich and a drink of your choice (my recommendation: a chilled beer or that rum & iced tea combo I mentioned). Then you observe the regulars, the ones who look like they know what they’re doing. You unapologetically peek at what’s on their plates. If you’ve got a good eye, you’ll figure out what to order next.
I’m honestly disappointed to see the review section filled with poor ratings by people who complain about the service (which is bad, as it should be). Then there are the special wits who ordered all the wrong things and are shocked the food didn’t impress them. I know, I know—you’re thinking: why have those things on the menu at all? Well, that’s just how it is. Deal with it.
I think of Koshy’s like I do my grandfather—rusty, old, and deserving of a little slack. Maybe it’s time we all checked our towering expectations of immaculate service. Yes, I’ve had bad service there too. But that’s not what I want to talk about.
Koshy’s exists to serve its regulars—like an old-school club. If the staff recognises you, you’ll be served with care and familiarity. It’s a part of St. Mark’s Road’s fabric, and it means far more to its loyal patrons than just being a “restaurant experience.”
Koshy’s is an institution, serving a community that’s been in love with it for decades. It’s not about the food, or the bricks and mortar, or any one thing. It’s about the vibe—of an old (yes, rusty) establishment holding a thousand memories close to the hearts of those who return time and time again.
Koshy’s is your grandpa. He won’t understand you all at once, and you won’t get him all at once either. But please—don’t go about berating him in this “digital public space” of ours.
Let him be. Let him age. And if you’re lucky, let him become yours too.
