No more a shack

A generation ago, there were no vinyl signs. The name was painted on the wall of the building. And it was the only building there, near the northern end of Besant Nagar's 6th Avenue. The beach sand spilled across the road and found lots of resting space around the building. There were chairs, but all out in the open air. Cozee was quite that, never mind the spelling. And there would be the Sardar owner, with his patka in place, ready to let go in the best Madras bashai should anyone get over-excited. I never did try it, but I am sure there are enough people who would remember spiking their ThumsUp with something stronger. Sardar would know of course, but would not interfere unless it became too brazen.

That was the way Cozee channeled those shacks of the West Indian beaches, or even those of Goa. At least that's the way we imagined it, the space between the land and the sea changing ever so gently that you never knew where the surf changed into sand and where that changed into black-topped road.

Today, it is just another of those restaurants along that stretch of the road.