Street food — the soul of Mumbai

It is a common belief among street food lovers in the city that the cheaper the chaat, the tastier the flavour. But the deadpan hygiene freak that I am, I always believed that cheaper also meant greasy oil, spicy masalas, contaminated water, and filthy hands.

The sight of the paani puri-wala wiping off the sweat on his brows and dipping his fingers into the paani always turned me off. Plus, I belong to the ‘purified-mineral-water’ school of thought, so roadside golas were a complete no-no.

Until I shed my inhibitions one fine day a couple of yeas ago and dared to gulp down a glass of ganne ka juice with the tangy chaat masala skimming on top.

“Ummm… Not as bad,” I thought.

“The (ill)-effects will probably show later,” my apprehensive side quipped.

My throbbing anxiety turned into relief only a day later when I woke up in the morning sans any feeling of sickness. “I’m just plain lucky to have escaped the germs,” the cynic in me refused to bow down to the pleasures of street food, much to the chagrin of my friends who are trying to ‘reform’ me. I think its all in the psyche of my mind that reacts so stubbornly to the idea of enjoying raaste ka khana.

Besides its local trains and Bollywood, if there is one thing that lends Mumbai its essence, it has to be street food. People from all over the world still flock to the city with two fervent wishes, one — checking out Amitabh Bachchan’s bungalow, and two — savouring Juhu beach ka bhelpuri.

What is that inimitable attraction in street food that seduces people so easily? Probably, it is the low cost yet high satisfaction value attached to it. The high class decor of a five-star restaurant cannot offer to the customers what open-air street food can - the true flavour of the city.

The joy of relishing pav bhaji from the street vendor with the butter-dripping bread and hot, fiery, red bhaji with garnishings of onion and fresh coriander is just no match to the ‘calorie-conscious’ pav bhaji served in upscale restaurants within closed doors and with pesky waiters.

Of course, the king of street food - vada pav - cannot be replaced by its ‘jumbo’ counterparts in spite of the countless flavours they promise.

In fact, I think these so-called innovations (Schezwan, chhole masala, and blah) are corrupting the idea of relishing an authentic vada pav with its pungent garlic and green chutney.

All said and done, my immediate objective in life is to abandon all my obsessions with hygiene and prejudices about street food and for once, bask in the bliss of a street vendor’s culinary skills.