Sweet and spice
I saw her standing in a corner waiting for the crowd to disperse as I was handing out the ‘khatta jyada meetha kam’ batch to twenty something year olds. I knew her since a long time, when she used to come with her late husband each week. She used to be different then- would chatter with him and smile. Since he passed away , she came alone; every Monday sharp in her punjabi suit of some pastel shade, her grey hair neatly combed for her share of six pieces of ‘meetha jyada teekha kam side me pyaaz’. She didn’t like to wait with others. She loved it if she were alone and I handed out golgappas one after the other to her. My muscle memory made it difficult for me to reduce my pace for her but I know the overwhelming feeling she must be experiencing if there is one golgappa in her plate ,one in mouth and the other ready in my hand. she preffered it that way- alone and in silence.
Today she had to wait long for the crowd to dwindle and the dusk started settling in. As she started to bite into her first golgappa, Mr Lobo from the society across the street jogged towards my cart for his ” Teekha only no meetha.” Still a handsome man at seventy, Mr Lobo was a bachelor who lived all alone. I looked at her and she silently gestured that he could join her.
” Hi Mrs Verma. How are you?” Mr Lobo tried to strike up a conversation.
” All is alright ji.” Mrs Verma was eager to get back to her solitary weekly activity.
” How are your children” Mr Lobo was determined to make this golgappa in his hand soggy. Some people didn’t appreciate my art of conjuring up the perfect crisp golgappas. But then it was Mr Lobo- always ready to talk to everyone.
” Happy in Germany but want me to be unhappy by eating the boiled food and being alone. Once a while I think diabetes and hypertension can take a hike while I eat golgappas.”
” Being alone is a choice Mrs Verma, being lonely , well something that should be corrected. It is never too late to make acquaintances, is it?”
I was so vested in the conversation that accidentally I mixed up their golgappas, the no meetha of Mr Lobo ended up in Mrs Verma’s plate and she certainly wasn’t happy with that.
” Let it be Mrs Verma , a little bit of meetha kam can add some spice to the routine sweetness; makes you appreciate the sweet things in life more, isn’t it?For the first time in a long time I saw Mrs Verma smile. She stared at her plate and then looked up at me, ” Do one thing, make the next one, teekha only for me and give him meetha jyada now. Let him too appreciate the sweetness breaking monotony of all the spice.” Mr Lobo chuckled. Mrs Verma smiled.The khatta meetha water of the Golgappa was on its way to spice two lives.
