Finding Quiet in a QSR

The last twenty days have been filled with travel- both body as well as spirit. While the weekdays have been spent back and forth from visiting the hometown, the national capital, and the city of Nizams; the weekends have been about traversing the state border in search of authentic Gujarati food or trekking to a 2300 ft pinnacle for a stunning view of the western ghats. They say it is lonely at the top. With at least fifty other people who climbed, it clearly wasn’t at the summit of Kalavantin Durg.

The trek, with friends from work, was on a Saturday. My designated cheat day. On food. Just to clarify. As I woke up, ready to gorge the world, the reward center in my head ached for fried food with a side of pancakes topped with chocolate fudge. Knowing the answer, I tapped my hunger saviours- Swiggy and Zomato. This being 2023, the idea of visiting the food joint hadn’t even entered my mind. Why travel to the restaurant when the restaurant can travel to you? Then something clicked and I don’t know what. I made up my mind to go on a breakfast date with myself to the nearest McDonald’s.

The McDonald’s at Kalina is special since it seems to be operated only by females. Maybe that’s why it is so efficient. True to the chain’s core values, the cashier tried to supersize my already large order. True to my core values, I tried to get the upgrade for free. The large organization prevailed over the meager individual. Well, at least I had the company of a cup of good coffee to help me recover from this minor defeat.

Taking a corner table and gazing at the paper tumbler in front of me with the food a few minutes away, my mind decided to enter into a noise-cancellation mode of its own accord. The bustle of the restaurant ceased to exist. I have never practiced meditation, but I believe this is the closest I had ever come. My mind is frequently racing, jumping from one idea to another, rarely ever finding tranquility but at that moment, there were absolutely no thoughts. The world comprised of the cappuccino and me. My eyes were open, but I wasn’t seeing anything. I had not experienced this stillness in a long time.

A few hours later, we had trekked our way to the base camp and lay staring into the night sky trying to figure out constellations. Quite ironic that for a Scorpio, my favourite is Orion. Peaceful as the scene was, my mind drifted back to the morning’s serenity. A little bit of contemplation helped me realise that the calm I felt was perhaps due to the place McDonald’s occupies in my subconscious.

Growing up in the late 90s/early ‘00s Agra, I knew about McDonald’s only from its TV ads. They made sure every kid across the length and breadth of this country longed for a happy meal. The ones in metro cities perhaps had theirs within reach but for the poor sods in small towns, those ads were just agony. My anguish turned into elation one morning in 2001 when my grandfather showed me a half-page ad about the world’s largest fast food chain opening an outlet on NH-2 in Mathura- about 50 km from my house. That outlet still stands.

From then on, every single trip of the family to Delhi included a stop at the outlet. Since my father often had work in Mathura, I would frequently coax him to get meals for me and my sibling on his way back. He usually obliged. In 2004, despite things being particularly tight at home, he made sure I have a family birthday dinner at McDonald’s. In hindsight, I can’t fathom the fortitude it would’ve taken to make that small dinner happen. Indian fathers have a different love language.

Reliving those flashbacks atop the hill, I acknowledged that, for me, McDonald’s is more than just a burger and fries diner. It is the embodiment of a child’s happiness; a family’s aspirations; of a man’s pursuit to provide a decent birthday dinner to his despondent son. McDonald’s is comfort. A gentle reminder that traversing life might get bumpy at times, but around some corner, there’ll always be a happy meal.