If you can sleep on your back after eating so much, you’re very lucky. I need six hours of walking before I feel any semblance of digestion—though I’m exaggerating!

I come from a time when cheese and paneer were rare indulgences, only occasionally gracing our plates when parents were in a generous mood. And now? It seems like cheese is in everything. As a result, it feels like everyone’s walking around with a paunch! Back then, I was used to one kind of cheese. Now, there are so many varieties, I’ve lost count. I can’t even tell them apart by taste; maybe the consistency differs, but who knows? And at my age, who cares? Cheese itself is a no-go for me, so why bother with the varieties?

Finally, let’s talk about chaats. Any idea when this term first came into use? I remember petis, samosas, and kachoris being popular. So were kulchas, tikkis, and, of course, the unforgettable pani-puri. Petis was my second favorite—back then, not now.

I tried dahi puri for the first time somewhere in the late 1980s. Did I try bhelpuri? No idea. It wasn’t until the early 1990s in Bombay that all these snacks attacked my senses. Wherever you went, in any direction, within a hundred yards, there would be a dry bhel puri cart or a vada pav vendor. How could I resist trying them? The best way to enjoy vada pav is at a roadside stall—so tasty and tempting.

Some street food concepts feel like they were born out of mix-and-match experiments, and I’ve seen many variations, though I can’t recall them all now. Take the evolution of bhaji into vada pav; the concept remains the same, but the stuffing changes. As long as my stomach and age could handle it, I loved these snacks. Even now, I indulge occasionally.

What’s the difference between dry bhel and the mixture you find in the South? Bhelpuri, with chutneys and other things mixed, not the dry kind, is really good. In the past, the serving size was small; now, it’s served in huge containers or plates. How can one eat so much?

I’ve already described the messy way to eat the delicate and delicious pani puris. Now, think about dahi puris. With all those things stuffed inside the puri and dahi soaking it, how are you supposed to put the entire puri into your drooling mouth? Most of the time, you end up biting into it, and a portion falls into the plate. I’ve definitely failed at mastering this art. And eating it with a spoon? Impossible!

Then there are samosas, those dynamites for the stomach, always looking like they’re in the advanced stages of pregnancy. No matter how you try to eat this monstrously huge piece of temptation, the stuffing inevitably spills out, leaving you to eat it as a side dish. So why not serve the stuffing and the outer layer separately? Would that change the taste? At least eating would be easier.

And vada pav? It’s essentially a potato bonda placed between two halves of pav. The lasoon (garlic) chutney is the kicker. Biting into the vada with the pav requires two hands and a bigger mouth. It’s like sitting in a dentist’s chair—you need to open your mouth wider than humanly possible. But you forget the inconvenience in favor of the pleasure.

Chaats are chaats. Despite the eating challenges some of them present, you can never fall out of love with them.

Next, I’ll dive into the food served at weddings.

Continued in 112. Chats And Chaats - Part 7