Bhel Puri

I love Bhelpuri. Not just any Bhelpuri, but only the kind made in a certain marwadi shop in my hometown. I was in high school when a friend of mine introduced me to that delicacy. I fell so much in love with it that I started visiting the shop daily. It was just 5 back then and that was manageable to get from my mom provided I do her some shopping and run errands on my way. Ah, those were the days. Hanging out after school with my friends and having my favorite bhelpuri. Life couldn’t be better. Until that day. 
It started off as usual. I came back from school, changed my uniform and took my bicycle to the marwadi sweet shop. My friends were there waiting for me and we ordered our bhelpuri. We were deep in conversation about that new girl in the neighboring class (it was high school and every girl seemed beautiful back then) when our bhelpuris arrived. I couldn’t wait anymore and took a spoonful of it and stuffed it into my mouth. I began chewing and it took me a minute to realize that something was wrong. Something tasted different. If you are expecting something awful that might throw your appetite off to happen, then relax, nothing of such happened. Actually, this bhelpuri tasted different. It wasn’t the bhelpuri I came to love and made a routine in my life. All my friends didn’t seem to mind but I couldn’t digest the situation (literally). I went to the shop-keeper to ask why my bhelpuri tasted different and he said that they have changed the chef (yes, he called him a chef) who made the bhelpuri. 
I was distraught. Life was never the same for me. I stopped visiting that shop. I even tried every shop around my town to find my beloved bhelpuri, but all I ended up with was an upset stomach and a bad taste in my mouth. I even stopped eating bhelpuri for a while. At this point if you are expecting me to learn a life lesson from the events that transpired like how we realize the worth of something only when we miss it or like how I never got to appreciate the people who made my life memorable (in this case the chef) or some other deep profound metaphorical humbug, then I am sorry. I just loved that bhelpuri and I missed it when they changed chefs. I never could find it again and that’s it. Not every mundane thing that happens in your life should have a meaning or a lesson to be learnt from it. I am not Ted from HIMYM (How I Met Your Mother) to go like, “Kids, sometimes life doesn’t give you the thing you want the most and blah blah..” Stop looking out for meaning and just embrace the chaos. 
But if you really want some good advise, then I would suggest you try Raghavendra Sweets at Lawrence road, if you are in Cuddalore and have a craving for a good bhelpuri. It is the bhelpuri you need but not the one you deserve! Until next time…. 

9 thoughts on “Bhel Puri

  1. Kishor LN says:

    Actually the situation is somewhat similar to when Marshall had that one hamburger when he moved into new york and couldn't find the same shop after that. But in my case a more tongue in cheek look at the scenario 🙂

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