Chaat, chat and building memories

 "Aa gaya kya"? I asked.

Mom peaked down onto the street from the balcony of Nani's apartment in Mumbai. 

"Abhi nahin aaya...aane wala hoga". 

Both of us were eagerly awaiting the arrival of the street chaat seller. His small setup, perilously hoisted on an hourglass shaped bamboo base, smartly placed at the street corner to give maximum visibility to the nearby apartments, was the "adda" where neighbours would gather in the early evenings. 

Others, like me, would like to have our bhelpuri or sevpuri packed and taken home for an evening session of gossip amongst cousins. 

"Teekha kaisa, meetha kaisa"? Was the only interaction allowed between the busy vendor and his loyal client base. Ofcourse, if you come regularly, even this input is not needed. He knows!

His hands move swiftly, almost like a well trained machine as he deftly mixes the various elements which make this savoury a flavourful treat. 

He knows he has about three or four hours at best in which he would have to maximize his sale. If he takes too much time, he risks losing his customers to a similar vendor at the next corner. Talk about competition!

"Teekha kam, medium meetha", I responded dutifully as my turn came. 

"Mummy ka sevpuri hai bhaiya, teekha zyaada".