When I look back into my school days, the halcyon moments I shared with my god-graced wonderful friends who helped me grow into what I am today, the wonderful teachers who preached the silent virtues of life, along with the general academics, and the times when I shared the most happiest moments, eating Panipuri with my friends!! Wait a minute. Does something seem out of the place? Not really. A paramount share of my school and college life was spent munching away India’s most famous snack- Panipuri. With it are interwoven the little precious moments where there was joy, happiness and some amount of crying too, judging by the spiciest ones popped into my mouth! Reeling back into my school life when I was first introduced to this wonderful snack at a nearby road stall, I was instantly attracted towards the sphere-shaped puris and the crux of the snack, the spicy liquid which had an unusual tangy taste. Time was ticking and the much awaited moment arrived when I was served my plate. I picked one and popped it in my mouth. The thin crust instantly gave way to the cool and spicy liquid inside my mouth and boy! It was truly delightful. I felt instantly transported to a new world of junk food and thanked the unknown person who created this truly spectacular snack, I remembered reading somewhere that ‘it was probably the creation of someone with a sense of humour!’
I was so overjoyed with the snack that I insisted my mom to learn the recipe so that I can enjoy it under more hygienic conditions; though eating it outside was the thing to do.
But it doesn’t stop with this. My relationship with this wonderful eatable went a long way. Entering into my college life, the local roadside stall of pani puri was a regular hangout for birthday treats and to discuss the spicy gossips with spicy puris! One of my friends had given his birthday treat in a pizza house. The only time I saw pizza was some model endorsing it on television. It may sound rather unusual but till date I had never tasted pizza and was looking forward for it, judging by the fact that it was very popular among my contemporaries. But according to my mum, it is “a piece of stale bread with few left-over ‘damaged’ (she meant rotten) vegetables half-cooked and ‘attractively’ served on”. This was surely a dreaded description, scary enough to make a hard-core pizza lover to never even give a second look to it! But then, to keep up with the normal crowd (who wants themselves to be called abnormal?) I agreed to join the gang for a pizza treat. So after the college, we headed straight to a pizza joint nearby. With our raucous laughter and noise, we scared the wits out of that pizza guy; I wondered whether we reminded him of angry animals stuck in a stinky cage! One of my pals, an expert on various pizzas, ordered a vegetarian paneer pizza and a chicken pizza and soft drink. It was a weekend afternoon and we were craving for the food. After fifteen minutes or so, the pizza guy came with piping hot pizzas in his huge tray. My stomach growled as I took a bite of the pizza. It was bland. I told myself, “It’s ok, chill. May be you should try it with the peppercorns and tomato sauce. It’s not that bad, you know.” My stomach growled again, as if to say, “Hello, I don’t want this. Why do you want to force it down?” but still I took another bite of that accursed pizza. I couldn’t take it anymore. Suddenly, I looked up at my friends and, to my ‘delicious’ surprise; everyone had the same look as if they had tasted a piece of leather. One of my friends suggested a hamburger to replace the pizza. I didn’t want to disappoint them and so took a bite of hamburger. I must say I was reminded of my usual wailings whenever my mom served bread and butter to me. “The toast at home would taste much better than this”. To everyone’s surprise, I grinned broadly and said, “Well, if you still want to enjoy the remaining pieces, I will wait. I’m in no hurry.” The pizza-expert grinned weakly and said, “Let’s get out of here and get the stuff packed. We’ll donate it to the street dogs and be done with it.”
We laughed at our disability and headed back to my favourite joint-the pani puri joint near MG Road. It seemed that my mind realised what was coming and so it sent signals to my stomach which started growling again. I could envisage the state of my mind as soon as my hands would receive the puri and catch it between the fingers and pop it into the mouth and my stomach churning it and… uh let’s not get into the later part of it! It was as though a marooned chap in the desert had a gulp of chilled Sprite! Alacrity filled me and I looked hopefully at my friends, now that they too saw it. The ‘pizza expert’ thought for a moment and gave a thumbs-up! I jumped up with joy and we walked to him. As Frank O’Connor would describe it, “Long months of abstinence behind him (in this case, her) and an eternity of pleasure before!” I savoured every delightful puri the cheery fellow served me with and boy! He had a pretty good business from us. I wondered whether he would build a small mansion for himself from the money we gave him!
The transformation of my desire into a tiny obsession scared people around me and I was accused of being paranoid about my desire, but I couldn't care less. Those were the days of joy and gay, when every evening I went to munch over the snack near a road-side stall, occasionally providing him useful tips to beautify the snack to be a lot tastier. He even wanted me to point out any flaws which I used to find occasionally in his recipe; there was a prodigious bond of trust and friendship in the little conversation we used to have during the munching. But then something drastic and dastard happened in my life which left me disheartened and disgruntled. My father got transferred from that place and I had to part my wonderful friend the panipuribhaiyya with whom I had some lovely discussions about the awesome food. I bid farewell to the bhaiyya who was slightly disappointed, so was I.
Lets just say it will be the beginning of my rendezvous with another panipuribhaiyya whom I’ll find in the new city, of course, there’ll be lot more people who dedicate their lives in serving the munching, one-of-its-kind snack to the wretched mortals like me like ‘angels’ serving the elixir of life with great gusto!
I was so overjoyed with the snack that I insisted my mom to learn the recipe so that I can enjoy it under more hygienic conditions; though eating it outside was the thing to do.
But it doesn’t stop with this. My relationship with this wonderful eatable went a long way. Entering into my college life, the local roadside stall of pani puri was a regular hangout for birthday treats and to discuss the spicy gossips with spicy puris! One of my friends had given his birthday treat in a pizza house. The only time I saw pizza was some model endorsing it on television. It may sound rather unusual but till date I had never tasted pizza and was looking forward for it, judging by the fact that it was very popular among my contemporaries. But according to my mum, it is “a piece of stale bread with few left-over ‘damaged’ (she meant rotten) vegetables half-cooked and ‘attractively’ served on”. This was surely a dreaded description, scary enough to make a hard-core pizza lover to never even give a second look to it! But then, to keep up with the normal crowd (who wants themselves to be called abnormal?) I agreed to join the gang for a pizza treat. So after the college, we headed straight to a pizza joint nearby. With our raucous laughter and noise, we scared the wits out of that pizza guy; I wondered whether we reminded him of angry animals stuck in a stinky cage! One of my pals, an expert on various pizzas, ordered a vegetarian paneer pizza and a chicken pizza and soft drink. It was a weekend afternoon and we were craving for the food. After fifteen minutes or so, the pizza guy came with piping hot pizzas in his huge tray. My stomach growled as I took a bite of the pizza. It was bland. I told myself, “It’s ok, chill. May be you should try it with the peppercorns and tomato sauce. It’s not that bad, you know.” My stomach growled again, as if to say, “Hello, I don’t want this. Why do you want to force it down?” but still I took another bite of that accursed pizza. I couldn’t take it anymore. Suddenly, I looked up at my friends and, to my ‘delicious’ surprise; everyone had the same look as if they had tasted a piece of leather. One of my friends suggested a hamburger to replace the pizza. I didn’t want to disappoint them and so took a bite of hamburger. I must say I was reminded of my usual wailings whenever my mom served bread and butter to me. “The toast at home would taste much better than this”. To everyone’s surprise, I grinned broadly and said, “Well, if you still want to enjoy the remaining pieces, I will wait. I’m in no hurry.” The pizza-expert grinned weakly and said, “Let’s get out of here and get the stuff packed. We’ll donate it to the street dogs and be done with it.”
We laughed at our disability and headed back to my favourite joint-the pani puri joint near MG Road. It seemed that my mind realised what was coming and so it sent signals to my stomach which started growling again. I could envisage the state of my mind as soon as my hands would receive the puri and catch it between the fingers and pop it into the mouth and my stomach churning it and… uh let’s not get into the later part of it! It was as though a marooned chap in the desert had a gulp of chilled Sprite! Alacrity filled me and I looked hopefully at my friends, now that they too saw it. The ‘pizza expert’ thought for a moment and gave a thumbs-up! I jumped up with joy and we walked to him. As Frank O’Connor would describe it, “Long months of abstinence behind him (in this case, her) and an eternity of pleasure before!” I savoured every delightful puri the cheery fellow served me with and boy! He had a pretty good business from us. I wondered whether he would build a small mansion for himself from the money we gave him!
The transformation of my desire into a tiny obsession scared people around me and I was accused of being paranoid about my desire, but I couldn't care less. Those were the days of joy and gay, when every evening I went to munch over the snack near a road-side stall, occasionally providing him useful tips to beautify the snack to be a lot tastier. He even wanted me to point out any flaws which I used to find occasionally in his recipe; there was a prodigious bond of trust and friendship in the little conversation we used to have during the munching. But then something drastic and dastard happened in my life which left me disheartened and disgruntled. My father got transferred from that place and I had to part my wonderful friend the panipuribhaiyya with whom I had some lovely discussions about the awesome food. I bid farewell to the bhaiyya who was slightly disappointed, so was I.
Lets just say it will be the beginning of my rendezvous with another panipuribhaiyya whom I’ll find in the new city, of course, there’ll be lot more people who dedicate their lives in serving the munching, one-of-its-kind snack to the wretched mortals like me like ‘angels’ serving the elixir of life with great gusto!
Note: I now like pizzas too.
