My mum and I were walking back home on what we assumed was an entirely uneventful and inconsequential day. Little did we anticipate that the evening had plans of its own in store for us. At the entrance of our modest street we spotted him. An individual who occupied the same corner along the cobbled pavement for months. Nay! Decades perhaps.
But to the outward eye of the wealth-accustomed, appeared almost invisible, in the same unseeing sort of way, that one adopts for men in uniform who render noble services such as waiters and security guards.
So there he was sporting a worn navy and ivory scarf firmly wrapped across his head and ears, to protect himself futilely against a ruthless, freezing December night. A too crinkled forehead, drooping rheumy eyes,fertile nostrils far apart from each other and a snow peppered moustache more white than black. The bhelwala we called him.
Being exceptionally hungry, definitely not an uncommon occurrence in our lives we decided it was a good idea to buy sukkha bhel. And at 5 bucks coupled with measly expectations, it was quite a steal. I wouldn't feel cheated even if it temporarily scarred my taste-buds. Our usual vendor sells it for 15. And its terribly unappetising.
Kurmura, onion, finely chopped tomato, peanuts, Channa and a suspicious white powder that could be chilli-flakes unwittingly find themselves ensconced in an old magazine cover.
It was the best bhel I've ever had in years and that's saying a lot for this compulsive sampler of street delicacies. A female Anthony Bourdain anyone? The crispy kurmura was reminiscent of simpler times when I was a kid. Together the ingredients provided that blend of crunchiness, pungency and peppery zingy-ess in a staccato fashion. The gram combined with the lemon drizzled onion and the peppery tomato.
Each flavor quick, unrelenting and not easily dismissed! Just when you think you've died and gone to heaven, the mischievous tongue scalding chili flakes explode.
So here I am again, bending prostrate before him, who's effortlessly managed to conquer my taste-buds, Tantalise and seduce them to the point of no return. Feebly I try to encrypt how he works his magic second month in a row, whilst realizing I'm hopelessly addicted. Perhaps the white powder isn't chilli flakes after all. I'm sure in the days of yore, ballads and odes were written about food ingredients like garlic and salt. Well, they sure missed this one.
