Puchka 101

Tell me, what pleases a female most. Yes, you can run your imagination wild. Without digressing, try to think that what gives her the much-wanted cheer, the confidence of being a  woman, the tears of joy in her eyes, the beautiful crunching sound to her ears and the ultimate kick, again figuratively.

Sigh, brush up your GK man and look around the chaat-vaalaas around you. Before you kill the neighbor’s cat out of curiosity, the answer is: Gol-Gappe. Yes, you read it correctly. Also, known as Patase, Paani Patasi, Paani-Puri, Water-Balls, Puchka and what not. What a creation and innovative item to eat! Nowadays, or who knows even when your dad wan’t born, they serve Gol-Gappas with Vodka. People!

So if people from foreign land or general posh people, who have never tasted the water bomb, let me give you a small description of what happens and how. People, of all ages, color, smells and gender, usually in evening, come out of their home/offices and reach their favorite Paani Puri destinations. The scene is usually like this. A thin lean dark wheatish shade guy with nominal thin mustache owns the stall. It is surrounded by a plethora of humans. Mostly girls. And that guy is always a guy. As in, I have never seen a female Gol Gappe Wali. Sounds little weird but who doesn’t want to eat Gol Gappes from a woman. I want. Anyways, the Gol-Gappe wala is one of the finest multitasker present in the country. The parallel processing the guy does can beat the best computers. One hand goes into the big pile of Paapdi and other hand keeps mixing the ingredients. No hand knows what other is doing. Class. Then he attends all the hungry tongues as-much-number-as-you-can-imagine at a time. While one hand is serving, the other hand keep mixing the awesomest-water-ever so that no sedimentation happens. Bloody, the guy knows Physics as well. Now when the girl/woman gets one gol-gappa in her plate, this is what happens. Please read in slow motion. Ultra Slow motion if you can afford.

She picks up the water filled ball, however big it might be, puts in her mouth, completely and closes her mouth. Yeah, you have to close. This is not any job. This is gol-gappaing. As soon as she closes her mouth, the walls of the ball start the process of crumbling down. While the walls are breaking down, the crushing and crackling sound it makes, can give any sound a run for their money. No human can imitate the sound. That’s how sound the sound is. Slowly, as it is a slow motion read, the wall get broken down. Now, first the salty, Jaljeera-ish, can be sweet-ish as well depending upon the ingredients, splashes around the mouth, touching each nook and corner of the area and giving ultimate pleasure. Then when most of the water has flown under the bridge called as Uvula (totally SFW organ, chill), the main masala of the subject comes out. Mostly it is mashed potato mixed with usual spices, Chutney but it can have Chanas and Curd and similar stuff as well owing to geography and demand. This masala gives the user something to chew upon and thus in totality, gives a pleasure no one can give, day or night. Tell me, have you ever experienced this elsewhere? And when guys eat this, they can achieve the level of satisfaction they seek. Ahem.

So next time when you eat the delicacy, remember, you read it first on this blog.

Now, I am not saying that the delicacy named Gol Gappas are sole property of women-folk, not at all. All the male guys I know relish it equally but I am yet to see a female who doesn’t like Gol-Gappe. If you are a female and reading this, and don’t like Gol-Gappe, seriously?

One small P.S.: 

One long P.S.: 

Well, I have been called names for the blog shifting frenzy, I was involved in recently. I divorced my beloved Y2A Slog, with whom I shared all kinds of events and thoughts I came across in my college days. It kept itself continued after the college for one and a half years but during that time it was treated like Sourav Ganguly in his last few years as a Cricketer before he was finally ousted and given a GPL (BPL for people with less OQ i.e. Offensive Quotient). Then came our rude dude Hit Wicked which, more or less, was more frustrated with itself than the beautiful but cruel world around it. And probably, it lived the age it deserved. Now I don’t like to move over blogs just like that because blogs are kind of Horcruxes. It hurt every time I moved on. Sniff. Talking of moving on, the group blogs, I was/am a part of, are lingering between life and death anyways so forgetting them is not a crime. Still killing the blogs is a bad habit. Avoid doing it. I am not proud of that. But I don’t regret it either. Man and his affection with immaterial things. Hmm. See, one needs to settle down to his ‘spot’ only when he is fully satisfied. Even Sheldon Cooper took time to choose his place to put his tashreef, so I took time to find a place for myself. BTW on a similar note, I drilled-down options and selected a place at my apartment to sit as well. I made India win the Cricket World Cup that way.