It’s a summer day of 1960, and the sun isn’t up yet. A 10-year-old K. Mani accompanies his father, Kannan, to their shop and watches as he stands outside, awaiting a herd of cows. Soon, the cows arrive, ‘mooing’ across the street, their herders in tow. Kannan buys his regular quota of milk and moves on to his next task, something far more tedious. Before him, is a large bar of ice that needs to be broken into tiny little pieces, using only a long wooden stick. Mani, also lends a helping hand. Finally, dawn breaks and Kannan gets to work, adding dollops of home-made rose essence to the fresh milk and ice pieces. Minutes later, the Kalathi Rose Milk shop is brimming with customers, all with tall glasses of bright pink in their hands.
Today, 56 years later, Mani runs this little blue shop located across the busy East Mada street in Mylapore. Dressed down, in a simple white shirt and veshti, it’s almost impossible to spot him among the large crowd gathered at the shop. The 66-year-old man doesn’t possess the air of someone who owns one of the better known rose milk shops in Chennai. “Kalathi is derived from the name of Kalahasti, our family deity”, says Mani. He just got back from a visit to the Mylapore branch of the Indian Overseas Bank, where he served as a clerk first and then an assistant manager for over 40 years, before retiring in 2010.
“When I worked at the bank, I always tried to make it back to the shop by 5 pm. Being here made me happier” he recounts, fondly looking at the shop. In his absence, the place was run by his cousin, Kumar.
The Kalathi Rose Milk shop was the first utility shop in Mylapore. Set up in 1927, it was initially known as the Kalathi Newspaper Stall. It gained city-wide recognition in 1952, when Mani’s father decided to start selling rose milk. “After a point of time, we stopped selling everything else. Now we just sell rose milk, and newspapers” admits Mani.
What is it that makes the rose milk sold here better than the rest? “Ours is a secret family recipe” whispers Mani. His mother made it in her time, and today his wife makes it. However, he never bothered to learn it. His response to the reason behind his disinterest is a sheepish grin.
Very recently, the shop also started selling bottled rose essence. Yet, people still come back to have the glass of rose milk sold here. “They come back and tell me they tried to make it at home, but the taste just isn’t the same.” says Mani, unable to hide his happiness.
Situated comfortably, under the shade of a mango tree, the shop was first made of only wooden planks and iron plates, before Mani renovated it in 1991. But the shop’s appearance never deterred the spread of its popularity. Veteran Tamil actors like Sivaji Ganesan, and R.S. Manohar have also paid a visit to his shop.
“I remember, once a gentleman walked up to the shop and asked for a glass of rose milk. Soon, people started coming to him for autographs. It was only later that I learnt the man was the famous cricketer, Krishnamachari Srikkanth” admits Mani, somewhat embarrassed. But, it’s his humility that you take notice of.
Despite its growing fame, Mani never thought of expanding his shop. “I run this shop purely for sentimental purposes.”
Mani, who was deeply attached to his father, explains how precious the shop was to him. “My father came back home for only 2–3 hours a day. He was always in this shop. In fact, he died of a heart attack, right outside the shop.”
Mani’s father died in 1974, leaving the shop to his care. “I could have built him a temple if I wanted to. But I worship him through this shop.”, he says.
Mani confesses, that it’s his customers that keep him going. “They come all the way from Thoraipakkam, Thiruvanmiyur and other far-away places just to have a glass of rose milk.” He also owes half of the shop’s popularity to them. “They write about my shop on social media and take selfies here.”
One of his oldest customers is V. Madhavan Rao. “I have been visiting the shop for over 70 years now.” , says Rao. He feels the rose milk here is world-famous. “Well, of course! My children who are settled in U.S and Australia, pack bottles of the rose essence when they come here for vacation. They then go back and distribute it among their friends and colleagues.”
But it’s what he says about Mani that really strikes you. “He is a down-to-earth man. A part and parcel of this shop, perhaps”
What happens to the shop after Mani and his wife, one wonders. “I hope my daughter-in-law learns the recipe. But it’s entirely up to her”, Mani confesses, looking into the distance.
Its lunch time now, but the crowd around the shop is still the same. Mani’s cousin Kumar is behind the counter now. “It’s usually like this during summers. When the sun shines, my shop shines” says Mani, before joining the crowd. He slowly moves from one person to another, inquiring about their well-being. In a bike parked closed to the shop, sits a kid and her father. The young girl takes a long sip of the rose milk and shouts ‘super’. A warm smile spreads across Mani’s face.
