Sadak chhaap maal

So this was supposed to be my Independence Day post, but the day was pretty much spent outdoors so I couldn't get down to it. I woke up at 6.15 am -- earlier than I do on weekdays, as a bunch of us had decided to go to the Indian Embassy for the flag hoisting. So there we were, coincidentally dressed in the colours of the Indian flag. Sumanth was the orange, I was the white and Pizzadude was the green. Since Shub was dressed in black, we decided that she was erm, the flagpole. Viv couldn't join us as he was at the run-bhoomi, playing for paraya desh.

The flag hoisting was great and I sang the anthem after ages (I reckon singing it in my head as I do every now and then doesn't count). Apparently, at last year's function they had served awesome chhole bhature and jalebis, which partly explained the crazy crowd this year. However, the Embassy was oblivious to the power of word-of-mouth publicity lasting a whole year, and hence unprepared for the lengths and distances we Hindustanis would go to for food. It was declared that the food would be served to children and the elderly first (implying that nothing would be left for the rest), and even though we were in neither of the brackets, we found ourselves with one of the white packets courtesy a rather enterprising bloke who again, was in neither of the categories but had queued, pushed, shoved and grabbed a box. Imagine our horror when we found neither bhaturas nor jalebis inside. There was a laddu, a samosa and some namkeen. Not what we had expected, but it did bring back memories of the food from my childhood Indepedence day parades. So we saluted the flag and made our way to a food court for breakfast.

Anyway, going back to the original post I'd wanted to write for Independence Day, it was to list five unforgettable street food items I had in India when I was a kid. So here it is, my top five list of food items that I can almost 'taste' even now, if I close my eyes and think about them really really hard.

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Cuttack ka baraa

I was born in Cuttack and that's all I did there. Right after, I was whisked around every few years due to Dad's transfers and the only time I'd go back to the tiny town was during summer vacations. The power supply would be out for about an hour every evening, and a bunch of us cousins would sit around lanterns and tell each other ghost stories. The evenings would not be complete without Cuttack's famous baraa (it's kind of like vada but it looks like a spaceship and doesn't have a hole in the centre). We would beg, borrow or steal ten rupees from somewhere and give it to Bana, and he would return a few minutes later with a delicious smelling paper bag full of steaming baraas. I have lived in Singapore for more than 11 years now and have experienced only one power cut. And the one thing I remembered when that happened was the Cuttack baraas.

Jamshedpur ka egg roll

I was in the seventh standard when Dad was posted to Jamshedpur. I can't remember the name of this movie theatre, but right next to it was a stall that sold the most amazing egg rolls I have ever had in my life. They cost 8 rupees each and were enough to fill us up for dinner after the movie. You could ask for either vegetables or chicken filling, and both came with these amazing onion slices dipped in the sauce from heaven. All of us went for "Bhaiya, zyada pyaaz dena" ("brother, more onions") and even though we had to refrain from speaking to one another due to the "zyada pyaaz" hours after the meal, we didn't complain.

Jhinkpani ka singhara

When I was the 10th standard, Dad was posted in this little town, which was almost a village. After the board exams, my folks were faced with the daunting task of deciding where to send me for my 11th and 12th because my school in that town did not have these levels. Many of my classmates left the town and headed for bigger cities, but Dad did not want to send me away to live in a hostel. So he decided to send me to the DAV school in Jhinkpani, the neighbouring town, located in present day Jharkhand. I had to wake up at 5:00 am and catch my school bus at 5:45. Unearthly hours and daily commute aside, the bus rides were made fun by my friends. On the way back was a roadside stall selling what were 'singharas' (at first acquaintance, I made the mistake of calling them 'samosas' and really heard the music from my friends). They did not taste anything like regular samosas anyway -- the covering was different, the filling was different. Children were not allowed to alight the bus randomly, so we'd cajole the bus conductor to buy the singharas for us. Generally, I'm not a fan of samosas/singharas, but these 50-paise delights were unbelieveable. We would buy a big paper bag of them and it would be passed from seat to seat from the back of the bus to the front. The conductor would also get one as his commission. I still miss the singharas so much I have no respect for any other kind I have had in the last 11 years.

Bengaluru ka gobi manchurian

Now this one's very recent - from my India trip in May this year. Pizzadude took us to the famous but hidden Food Street where I had gobi manchurian from this streetside stall. There it was, served in a bowl made of leaves, a small heap of yummy gobi manchurian florets, doused in a thick red sauce and yet crunchy, with a few toothpicks to pick them up with. Yum.

Kolkate ka pani puri

And finally, we get to the ultimate street food, my favourite of all. I love pani puri so much that I can have it anytime, anywhere, any amount. My cousin once had a bet with me that I couldn't finish off 50 at one go. Needless to say, I won quite easily. I also have many dhinchak quotes about it: "Pani puri ke liye jagah pet mein nahin, dil mein chahiye." and "Meri ragon mein khoon nahin, pani puri ka pani daud raha hai." One of the things I want to do is travel all over India some day and sample the pani puri offered in different cities and rate them. I have had pani puris in at least 20 cities and so far, the stall in the sabzi market in Kolkata where Dad was posted a few years ago, is a clear winner. I went there almost every day during my short trip home and the guy had by now recognised me as the girl who when asked "jhaal?" (hot?) wanted it to be, "Haan, khoob jhaal, bhishon jhaal!" ("yes, very hot!" -- one of the few Bengali keywords I had learnt and misused on several occasions).

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All right, it's 11.57 pm and I am going to bed now, and I hope some of these appear in my dreams at least. But before I sign off, I would like to tag all street-food-loving bewdas to do up their own lists. I would also like to tag bloggers who have tagged me on something or the other but whose tags I haven't taken up yet. If you ignore this tag, we will be even and I won't feel so bad anymore. :P