Page 2 of Made in Mumbai

Satisfied with the result, he now actively looked for food. Something cheap. His nose tingled. The whiff of something being fried hit him. He continued walking downhill, his eyes rounding at the commotion in the middle of the road. So many people in one place? Was it a festival?

Food forgotten, he too ran towards the commotion. And as he went nearer, and the stalled rickshaws, bikes and cars remained stalled, he realised it wasn’t a festival but a fight, and not a fight but a one-sided match. One man was being pummelled. By one girl.Girl.He gaped. She didn’t look older than his own age, her hair wild even when tied up in a ponytail. She wore some stylish loose military green pants and a sleeveless colourful top. At first glance she looked so delicate, and yet she was smacking the man over his head again and again with her bag, her leg doing good work too kneeing his stomach.

None of the onlookers did anything. And she didn’t stop, even though that man kept trying to get away. He would run a few steps and she would chase after him, pull him back by the collar and pummel him again.

People watched, got bored and moved on. The frying food scents hit him again, and Gautam too, moved on. He followed the scent and sounds. And right there, on the corner of a turning was a shack. Selling vada pav!

How had he not put this on his mental list? Gautam ran to the shack. It was already crowded by people looking like him. Non-rich. Eating vada pav. The vendor was frying big, golden, round vadas fresh in a massive black pot, throwing them into a tin tray from where another man was putting together the snack. Tearing of the bun to create space, lathering it with red, green, brown chutneys, and stuffing the vada inside. The handover was in record time! His mouth watered.

Gautam checked the prices first. 5 rupees. Perfect. He could easily have three of these and have lots of spare money for the rest of his day.

“Bhaiji, ek yeh dena…” he pointed to the last vada pav in his hand. The whole batch was sold out while a new one had just been slipped into the pot. The vendor handed it over to him. Gautam was about to take a bite when a loud female voice huffed and puffed beside him — “Mera vada pav dena bhaiya, jaldi! Ab toh bhook se hi mar jaungi.”

He turned. And there stood the girl who had been beating up a man in the middle of the road.

“Time jaayega,” the vada pav vendor dismissed her rudely.

“Arey? Time kyu jaayega? Main order dekar gayi thi!”

“Khatam ho gaya.”

Fumes. Reds. Snarls. Dog snarls. Gautam observed curiously how the girl’s exhausted face changed expressions until she looked ready to start a war over vada pav.

“Take,” he extended his uneaten vada pav to her. Incredulous dark eyes with a big frown looked up at him. She wasn’t short, but she wasn’t tall either. She looked pretty, making him want to look at her again if he had to look away. She snarled athimnow — “Why are you giving this to me? Listen, I just beat up a man for trying to whistle when I passed. If you are trying to…”

“You are very hungry, and I can wait,” he nodded in as smooth English as he could muster. It still didn’t sound as smooth as hers. But his words must have done the trick. Because her anger instantly subsided. A huge smile broke out on her face and she grabbed the vada pav from his hand — “Thanks, man! Seriously,” she tore her mouth open and took a massive bite, “I had ordered my vada pav first but then that man whistled and I had to teach him a lesson. This guy sold my vada pav…” she scowled at the vendor.

“It is ok.”

“Yeh le,” the vada pav vendor passed him a brand new vada pav and Gautam paid for it with a grateful nod. He carefully opened his mouth to take a bite. But the thing was too big. He wondered how she had managed to stuff it into her mouth. After a second too long of careful consideration, he broke a small piece of the vada that was bulging out. It broke away with lots of garlicky-smelling yellow potatoes and crispy besan covering. He popped it into his mouth. And his mouth fell open.What was this? So good?

“Are you new to Mumbai or what?” The girl laughed, half down on her own vada pav. He hesitated only a second before nodding. Her smile grew wider. “It shows. A Mumbaikar doesn’t eat vada pav like that.”

“Then how?”

“Like this,” she held her vada pav in one hand, pressed down on the top layer of the bun until the snack was compact enough to go into the mouth, and took a bite. Her other hand reached out to pick a fried green chilli from a tin platter on the shack and she bit into it. Gautam followed her instructions, down to the chilli. Andooh… this was even better!He grinned. She grinned bigger, both their mouths full. “Awesome, no?”

“Yes,” he nodded, digging in. “Awesome.”

“Where are you from?”

“Himachal Pradesh.”

“Looked like it. All gora-chitta good boy.”

He coughed, his laugh going down the wrong pipe with his vada pav. Was he that good looking that this pretty girl thought he was handsome?

“Is your college here or in town?”

“Town?” He frowned.

“SoBo. South Bombay?” She cued. He shook his head.

“Which college are you in?”

He began to tell her he wasn’t a college student, even if he looked like one. But then stopped. Something in him didn’t let him say it out loud. It wasn’t like he was ashamed of his job. It kept his tummy full and helped him save up money. Plus, it gave him a roof over this head — Kumar bhai’s truck. His only home. But as an almost 12th graduate, he also knew that a truck cleaner wouldn’t be as respected as a college student in this big city.

So he took a deep breath, and forced out the lie — “Not decided.”

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