Stepping into the two-storey Indian restaurant, snug amongst rows of weathered grey buildings on Electra Street has been my respite from the chilly Abu Dhabi weather. In a sea of jarring names either carved, painted or lit up down the street, Evergreen Restaurant is easily overlooked — I have walked past the place every time I’ve been there.

Visiting the restaurant in daylight and at night, you should assume different experiences. In the day, it quietly bathes in natural light. Men in their working suits each have a whole table to themselves as there is no time to linger. Actions are crisp and calculated — they enter the restaurant, greet the owner, order their meal, eat, pay and rush off to work. Time seems to slow down only when they sip on their cup of masala tea. At night, the neon lighting up and around the front door feels like a loud declaration of warmth and hospitality. You can spot the chef absorbed in his craft through the window where panipuri (a staple Indian snack) begins to be served. Men, women and children pour into the restaurant as the crowd inches its way up the second floor that had been dormant for the first half of the day.

Photo courtesy of Sussane Niemann

For many from the Indian community, Evergreen bears notions of belonging. For vegetarians, it means another rare option. For the wider community in the city, it provides an insight into stories of migration, integration and generosity of a community; just pull up a chair and you’ll see what is so special about the place.

The restaurant on Electra Street is one of the five branches. Now run by a middle-aged Punit Joshi, the restaurant has a long history that goes back more than four decades. The first branch was started in Dubai by Joshi’s father-in-law. In his 30s, he embarked on a lone journey from the western coast of India to the United Arab Emirates, with hopes of a better life for the family he left behind. He struggled to find a vegetarian restaurant at first, which is probably why he found his way around that by starting one himself.

“[My father realized that] people who are vegetarian cannot go into any restaurant and have food. He started thinking that it would be good to start one,” shares Hetal Joshi, Punit’s wife.

Photo courtesy of Sussane Niemann

In 1978, in the old town of Deira, Hetal’s father started his own pure-vegetarian Gujarati-style Indian restaurant with two of his friends. Over time, the business picked up pace with more branches, venturing into Bur Dubai, Sharjah, and Abu Dhabi. The branch on Electra Street opened in 2004 as Punit took over from his father-in-law.

The business took time to take form, and gradually became a source of stable income for the family.

“It’s good luck for the whole family,” shared Hetal. However, she emphasized that her father’s motive has been less about profit-making and more about creating a vegetarian-friendly spot for the community. At one point, her father’s partners suggested adding non-vegetarian food to the menu, which her father adamantly rejected.

“He had himself set on that whatever happens, [he wants] a vegetarian restaurant,” said Hetal.

While Punit and Hetal proudly inherited his vision, she added that they are driven to make the restaurant an affordable place for people from all socio-economic backgrounds: “It’s a place for everyone [...] If the customers are happy, we are also happy.”

Photo courtesy of Sussane Niemann

Their Gujarati thali is what people eagerly order. It consists of a few pieces of roti flatbread in the centre, surrounded by three side dishes of lentils, vegetables and dessert. The waiters approach the tables every now and then to provide unlimited refills for each item on the plate; they scoop ladles of vegetable curry with grace, elated when the customers heartily accept them, and disappointed when they refuse. For Indian customers, such enthusiastic expression of love-by-feeding instills strong nostalgia, aided by murmurings in the mother tongue. The restaurant opens its doors from 7 a.m. to 11 p.m. every day, with only a one-hour break for cleaning at 3 p.m.. Even during the break, they would open their doors to customers who have travelled from afar and barely made it by 3 p.m.

The people — from the owner, to the workers, to the customers — are the heart of what Evergreen is. It is a place for families, for vegetarians, for the community of Indian migrants and for the larger population of Abu Dhabi. Expressed in the insistence of the waiters to serve us more rotis and in Hetal’s readiness to sit with us and eat is the warmth of the community.