When A Snack Became The Food For The Soul!

 

There are some foods that are unique, irreplaceable and secure a place in your heart forever. 

I think the main reason why Paani-puri (sorry, we Dombivlikars refer to Golgappa as Paani-puri, always have, and always will!) is special to me, is because I was introduced to it by my favourite uncle who left the mortal world at the very young age of just 35. 

I must have been around 10 years old, I guess. I was out for a walk with my aunt and uncle. We came across a paani-puri stall and my uncle placed the order for three plates. It was the first time I was attempting a paani-puri. So I had no idea that we get 6 puris at a time. I ate one at my own sweet pace. What I remember vividly is the explosion of flavours - tangy, minty, salty, sweet and spicy! My eyes watered and my throat clogged up. I managed to gulp the first one and promptly found another one placed in the plate. After four, I couldn't take another one. The first experience, while not very comfortable, was indeed memorable!

And then my Naani started making paani-puri for the kids in our family. Including my cousins and best friends with whom we had grown up, there were about ten kids overall. My Naani would prepare the special mixture required for the snack and we would bring the puris from a chaat shop situated near to our apartment. The owner of the shop would always say - "Your Naani will put me out of my business! You people only buy the puris. Try my special paani-puri too sometimes!" Every time we bought five to six packets of the puris and would feel that we had bought too much. Nobody really paid attention to the fact that in the end, only one packet would lie unopened. 

Once we decided to count how many of those puris we were eating. We started counting and stopped when we crossed the magical number of 25 (per person). We never dared to count again. Some things shouldn't be measured or counted, like, the happiness from eating something delicious and made with love.

Some of the best memories of childhood and teenage are the times spent with friends. Sometimes we would go to a hotel for dinner. Sometimes we would go to the railway station, apparently to 'have a long walk', but secretly, to eat paani-puri at the various stalls that would be lined up outside the station. The happiness of having paani-puri with friends cannot be surpassed at all. And asking for a masala-puri at the end of the snack was mandatory. The masala-puri is simply priceless, a gift that keeps on giving!

Although the paani-puri has always made me happy, there was one time when it made me unbearably sad. I and my friends had started working at that time and our meetings had gradually reduced. That day, as I was walking home after a grueling day in the office, I crossed the paani-puri stalls near the station. One of the stall-owners called me out - 'Madam, paani-puri!'. My heart longed to eat that but there was also the slight embarrassment of having to eat alone. I decided to go ahead and placed an order for a plate. The first bite was so good, so nostalgic that it brought tears to my eyes. 'Madam, is it too spicy?' the stall-owner asked in concern. I shook my head and shot him a thumbs- up. 'It is perfect.'

It has been a long time since I had a plate of paani-puri. It is what I miss most about my life as a Dombivlikar. 

For me, the paani-puri is a reminder of everything good in life. It is also a lesson that it takes everything to be perfect - a little bit of tanginess, some spice, a little salt, a little sugar and a little bit of cool mint!