Paani Poori

by: Dr. D.D. RISHI   

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The boss was carrying a strange-looking empty water bottle in his hand. He had already hauled three bulky bags on to the railway platform. Looking to the fact that it was a short visit for two days, I wondered what these bags contained. But my curiosity was short-lived.

“Hey, first get me a bottle of water from the bag”. “Which bag, Sir?” I asked obediently in the tone prescribed for the juniors. “Any of those”, he replied disinterestedly. “So much of water, Sir? Though it is a small town, mineral water bottles are conveniently available here......”. “Don’t you read the papers? Pesticides, bacteria, virus and what not! What about the sources of this water and the bottling plants? Then there are so many counterfeits. It is only the young people like you who would trust the so-called mineral waters! For me, nothing less than water boiled at least for one hour, and then filtered, and re-filtered, all at home. These multinationals nowadays can sell you any trash. They should be banished for playing with the health of people in third world countries….”

After the meeting and work taken care of in office, I asked “Sir, what should we call for lunch?”. “Well, actually nothing. I hate eating outside. It is so unhygienic. I always carry home-made ‘khaakhra’ while travelling. You know what ‘khaakhra’ is?” the boss said. No, I lied. I shared the boss’s ‘khaakhra’, and made a good attempt to look as if I had never ever tasted anything more delicious.

By evening, the boss cheered up a bit and became nostalgic. He told me that he had joined his first posting in this city only. Things were so much different then, he said. He suggested we go out on a walk. He wanted to see all those places again. After an hour we happened to stroll into Resham Bazar which is more famous for its roadside ‘paani poori’, or what you may call as ‘gol gappa’, stalls. The sight of ‘paani poori’ water ‘matkas’, probably unwashed for months, deterred me from giving him any wild suggestions for trying this local delicacy. When I was still in those thoughts, the boss suddenly stopped in front of one of the smaller and less famous stalls, and asked: “Jai Ram, pehchaana kya?”. Whether the person really remembered him or not, I have my doubts. But his right hand still dipped deep in the ‘matka’, he ‘salaamed’ the boss, and said: “Saab, bahut dino baad..”. This delusion of having been recognized, after so many years, brought a proud smile on boss’s face, and he asked me: “Have you ever tried ‘paani poori’ here? It is simply irresistible”. He then went on to order this delicacy for both of us, without waiting for my reply.