Tuesday, May 22, 2012

Lucknow Musings: Mota Halwai

Mota Halwai's shop was really a couple of mud thrones. There was a gap between the two platforms which led to a pucca room- here he kept the tools of his trade- great kadhais, ladles, cans of vanaspati (remember these were the days pre-Saffola) and the ubiquitous aluminium trays which held his wares. He himself sat on one of the mud embankments - fat, brown, glistening with sweat and wearing only a small loin cloth. His shirtlessness could put Salman Khan to shame. He would often be seated in front of the great fire- which held a massive black kadhai- and seemed to be perpetually frying oil- and here he would design some of the most delectable jalebis, imartis, samosas and namkeen-pare (slurp!). The other khoya sweets were kept in greased aluminium trays in  a large glass counter on the other side which also served as the cash counter. One had only to point to the besan ke Laddoo, nariyal barfi, pede, Bengali mithai or motichoor Laddoo and his help would swiftly pick out the pieces and put them in those red-gift papered bandhini print boxes that we even till today associate with mithai ke dabbe. Usually we would pick just before tea-time for our visit to his shop- adjacent to Munna-ji's- and stand in the heat, waiting for fresh samosas to be fried- somehow the rivers of sweat trickling down our backs seemed to evaporate as we fed in the first mouthful of this treat. There was something opulent as well as basic about his shop. The trays of mouth-watering delicacies, prepared in such humble conditions. He was regaled in many a tea-time conversation- the tea made so much sweeter with one of his trademark samosas accompanying it. Such was the cleanliness around him that never once had we fallen sick after eating from his shop. Now, we buy from the air-conditioned Brijwasi Sweets across the road. The namkeens are untouched by hand and hygienically packed. The helps use tongs to pick out the desired sweets and place them in logo-bearing cream coloured boxes. The whole experience is so... so... sanitised that even the samosas are fried in an electric kadhai, drained on slotted sieves and then eased into pre-sealed packets.  There is no Halwai. Only a clerk in a crisp uniform. I miss Mota Halwai.

1 comment:

geekay said...

Nice one - reminiscing is always sweet but it never fulfills the wishes one expresses at such moment. Only emptiness pervades as time never comes back even if Mota Halwai was there. It is kind of sad.