From someone who really dislikes Bombay's special vada pav, I am getting serious pangs! Imagine that.
The only other time I readily and greedily devoured the potato bonda fried and stuffed in a freshly-baked 'pav' and layered with killer gun powder chutney was when the Sanctuary gang had gone flamingo watching, and fallen square faced into the industrial sludge, where these tall pink beauties somehow find enough surviving algae to feed on, and get attracted to all the way from Africa. Maybe those black protrusions are really big noses and not beaks.
Anyway, we were on a tiny, narrow boat/canoe, and the child right in the front was an eager beaver. He wanted to take his shirt off and jump into the sludge. For what joy, I have no clue. But then kids are a queer lot, and it's best not to bring logic into the picture. So but before he could, someone older and behind him spotted juveniles. And the word was spilt. "Look, baby flamingos." And ploppety plop. All of us, plopped into the muck one grown adult at a time. In slow motion. And I being the last saw all of it (them) tilt portside, tilting the boat a little more.
And the other boat full of Sanctuary on-lookers guffawed at us for what seemed like ever. There was of course no space on their boat, so we had to actually wade through the sludge surrounded and created by Sewri, before we got out of the place almost an hour later. We looked disgusting, felt like crap, and stunk like skunks. Reeked of it for days if you ask me.
All the little houses, which surrounded the creek were more than glad to help us get all the muck of our faces. They gave us the water they had taken immense pains to carry to wash up. We couldn't be more grateful. Really. Exhausted, and hungry as hell, one of us ventured to get Bombay's special, and the only thing available. I didn't want to complain, but I really dislike this speciality. Anyway, at first I nibbled, but before I knew it, I gobbled up two of em in less than a few minutes. And I was hungry for more.
No, I've not fallen into a creek or anything or the sort. Or hit my head against the pavement, but I sorely miss those tall pink beauties, and fresh, hot and spicy vada pav! Sigh!
The only other time I readily and greedily devoured the potato bonda fried and stuffed in a freshly-baked 'pav' and layered with killer gun powder chutney was when the Sanctuary gang had gone flamingo watching, and fallen square faced into the industrial sludge, where these tall pink beauties somehow find enough surviving algae to feed on, and get attracted to all the way from Africa. Maybe those black protrusions are really big noses and not beaks.
Anyway, we were on a tiny, narrow boat/canoe, and the child right in the front was an eager beaver. He wanted to take his shirt off and jump into the sludge. For what joy, I have no clue. But then kids are a queer lot, and it's best not to bring logic into the picture. So but before he could, someone older and behind him spotted juveniles. And the word was spilt. "Look, baby flamingos." And ploppety plop. All of us, plopped into the muck one grown adult at a time. In slow motion. And I being the last saw all of it (them) tilt portside, tilting the boat a little more.
And the other boat full of Sanctuary on-lookers guffawed at us for what seemed like ever. There was of course no space on their boat, so we had to actually wade through the sludge surrounded and created by Sewri, before we got out of the place almost an hour later. We looked disgusting, felt like crap, and stunk like skunks. Reeked of it for days if you ask me.
All the little houses, which surrounded the creek were more than glad to help us get all the muck of our faces. They gave us the water they had taken immense pains to carry to wash up. We couldn't be more grateful. Really. Exhausted, and hungry as hell, one of us ventured to get Bombay's special, and the only thing available. I didn't want to complain, but I really dislike this speciality. Anyway, at first I nibbled, but before I knew it, I gobbled up two of em in less than a few minutes. And I was hungry for more.
No, I've not fallen into a creek or anything or the sort. Or hit my head against the pavement, but I sorely miss those tall pink beauties, and fresh, hot and spicy vada pav! Sigh!
3 comments:
Dude, I LOVE vada pav.. and all other pavs in mumbai. at one point in time, i wanted to write about pav politics in india :D
I love all other pavs, alright! :D And you should totally write about the pav politics.
Wada pav during Bombay rains with piping hot cup of chai....the perfect setting!
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