I predate pizzas and burgers, as I found out when asked what brand pizzas we ordered as kids. I thought hard and realised I had only seen a burger or a pizza in an Archie comic. My equivalent of junk was jhaal muri or pani puri and, on that rare occasion, an ice cream.
“In Rourkela, growing up, one rupee got seven samosas,” says Raju and that was a problem. They were three siblings, so after each one got two each, who would claim the seventh? “It was decided that the one who went to the shop to buy them earned the right to the extra one.” It was all about privilege.
My mother never forgets how bread was a rare treat in her childhood. Freshly baked at the Iyengar Bakery in Mysuru, it was brought home only for my grandmother and my older mama who ate it during their fast on ekadasi. My mother, her four sisters and two brothers would crane around the door to see if the ‘fast’ people had left a slice or two after which there was a mad scramble to grab it. My friend Tani remembers how she lusted after the omelette that was specially prepared for her Bengali tutor and served to him with tea. “Some days he would not eat it. And the minute he left I would whisk the plate off to the terrace with my sister giving a hot chase. To put her off, I would lick the omelette and sit down to it with greater glee,” she laughs.
Whatever treat we managed to get was made to last as long as possible. Raju also remembers preferring to walk home from school and use the ticket money of five paise to buy sticky churan made up of just a glob of tamarind pulp and some delicious masalas. It sat on his palm and he licked it and the challenge was to make it last till she reached home.
There wasn’t much of junk eating. We had three meals a day and our tiffin box stuff and that was it. Only birthdays and festivals were the exceptions. Mysuru erupted into celebrations during Dasara and every household had a Kolu . Everyone visited everyone else; it was nine days of feasting on different sundals, and if they were lucky, sticky sweets. “We took it seriously,” says ma. “Each day we found out what the prasadam for the day was in our friends’ homes and then visit! I have been guilty of refusing to visit a friend because she said her mother was only handing out kadlai pori (puffed rice)”.
Another treat for my mom was sakkarai acchu or sugar candy shaped like birds, animals or even, my mother’s most treasured possession, lanterns. “I carried that lantern everywhere, even to the bathroom. Only when it began to show signs of wear and tear, did I sit in one corner and eat it up.”
