The Kulfiwallah

June 23, 2010

On warm summer nights when the air is as still as those Tussauds wax statues, and you can hear the crickets go chirp chirp in the backyard. When those orange stalked fragrant prajakta flowers spread their achingly sweet fragrance through the still warm night air, and you can hear a lonely frog go croak croak from a dark corner.

Suddenly you hear that awaited - 'Kulfiwallahaaaaah'...and you leap, much like that sulking frog in the corner and make a dash to the gate. 'Aeeeee Kulfiwalle'...you yell....Kulfiwalle....idhar idhar....right here, cant you see?... You meanwhile get battle ready, as you get the youngest of the lot to quickly scout for his/her slippers, hurry hurry them on, and urge him to go...go get him here before he slinks into the night with that red caped basket of his...

All that commotion and sudden activity gets the Kulfiwallah's attention and that apparition in white comes closer, with cool respite of milky kulfi hidden in the folds of the red cloth. He gets the basket down and as he unfolds the cloth you see a dozen aluminium cones shining in the street light, nestled on a bed of salt and ice.

The Kulfiwala '...sssssk' opens the rubber vacuummed cones with his knife, pushes in a wooden stick and coaxes the creamy kulfi out for an eager audience, one by one. The Kulfi tastes slightly salty, creamy and milky cold with bits of cardamom, and someone always will want their kulfi diced on a green leaf and while the rest of us go slurp and lick with kulfi dripping down in savory urgency, they neatly dice up their kulfi further and make it last longer.

The kulfiwallah meanwhile counts his loot, and silently saunters away, a little lighter, taking his wares to other neighbourhoods to spread milky joy and some summer cheer. And you wait till the next week when the summer air is still warm and your tongue remembers the milky taste of cold kulfi.

A content writer- a writer who is content with where she is in life. Curiosity, coffee and creativity keep me going!
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