Jhal Muri
I have always thought about what is something that has always defined my childhood train journey. Among many, one thing that has remained close to my heart is, Jhal Muri. We were so influenced by the man who sold Jhal Muri that we would mimic his voice and would laugh among our friends. The sharp and shrill voice of the Jhal Muri was symbolic to the crowded train stations.
Something that amazed me more than the Jhal Muri itself was how it was made and how it was kept. There was a big round steel container than had sections. Every section had a masala that would be going inside the Jhal Muri. The whole container had a big rope tied at it ends which was worn by the JhalMuri wala around his neck. Also, how the dexterous hands would move picking up different masalas, chopping onions, boiled potatoes, adding mustard oil and coriander at the end, was something so satisfying to see.
The pilot has announced the takeoff and the plane is slowly moving forward. Everything here is sophisticated and advanced. The air hostesses will be shortly arriving with the drinks and snacks. Though I am having all the facilities and luxuries of my life, still, somewhere deep inside in my heart I crave for that shrill voice of JhalMuri wala, that tangy masala, that bite of onions, that creamy potato, and that never returning childhood.
