There was once an old man called ‘Joker’ Bhai. He made and sold kulfis for a living. His kulfis were famous in Pulianthope, but more famous, was the man himself. With his white beard and jibba , he broke into dance on the roadside when he sold kulfis. ‘Joker’ Bhai died a few years ago, but is fondly remembered for his quirky dance moves. “He was among the three men who started the tradition of kulfis in Pulianthope’s Sasthri Nagar,” says E Jareena, who makes the dessert at her home.
Today, around five families make kulfis in Sasthri Nagar. All of them trace their beginnings to ‘Joker’ Bhai or his relatives. “His name was actually Sayed Hussain,” says Jareena’s husband H Elahi. “He was my uncle. I ran small errands for him when he worked in his kitchen and gradually picked up the technique,” he says. “I’ve been making kulfis for over 28 years.”
We enter a small gap between two buildings at Sasthri Nagar, that forms the 19th Street. The lively stretch, dotted with cats, plastic buckets, and creaky metal hand pumps, is fragrant with the smell of the afternoon’s meals that escapes kitchens through open doors on either side. The street narrows down even further as we enter 2nd Cross Street. Jareena’s sits outside her house, the first one on the street, fanning herself with her sari’s pallu .
“It’s extremely hot,” she mutters as she leads us inside. The one-roomed house, with a kitchen portioned on one end, has a big vessel of milk bubbling on a kerosene stove. The only source of ventilation is the main entrance. “This is why I don’t cook anything else when the milk is simmering,” she explains. The milk, which will soon be embellished with almond shavings and sugar, has been on the stove since 8 am.
It’s 1 pm and she switches off the stove. She mixes cornflour with water and adds it to the thickened milk. The consistency is now almost like condensed milk. “The milk has to cool down before we add the almonds and sugar,” says Jareena. “We’ve used 20 litres, for which we add less than 300 gm of corn flour,” offers Elahi. By 5 pm, the thick, sweet concoction is packed in palm-sized florescent-green plastic containers and sealed with a small length of rubber tube. “We drop them into plastic storage containers with ice and salt an hour later,” he adds.
Kulfi is ready to be sold an hour or so later. Elahi and his son Ilyas Basha sell the 170 kulfis they make. “But most kulfi makers in our area have four or five men who collect it from them to sell,” says Jareena. “But we keep it within the family so that quality doesn’t suffer,” adds Basha. The 29-year-old sells their kulfis on MC Road in Washermanpet from 9 pm onwards.
“Kulfi is an evening thing,” says Basha. “During the day, people prefer the bigger brands and we don’t want to compete with them.” Basha’s wife has just delivered a baby; the four-month-old is being rocked in a hammock made of sari in the room as the fragrance of milk engulfs us. K Jabeena, his sister, walks in with a packet of kulfi containers. Elahi picks one to show us. “During ‘Joker’ Bhai’s days, they used tin containers,” he says. “The kulfis were stored in mud pots that were given a coating of cement to make them stronger.”
Metal was high on maintenance and hence gradually faded. “But kulfis stored in them were much tastier,” remembers Elahi. “It can be compared to the taste of water stored in mud pots as opposed to plastic bottles.”
Elahi is 55 years old and is tired from all the walking around every night. “I cycle to my regular spot and call out ‘Kulfi! Kulfi!’,” he says. Isn’t he inspired by ‘Joker’ Bhai to dance to attract customers? “He was too old to be bothered by what people thought about him,” he says. “At least I call out to people. My son is too shy to even open his mouth,” he laughs.
