Deepak had just reached home. Though dinner time was approaching, he was in mood for some road-side tit bits. When he proposed, I didn’t wait for deliberations. Slippers worn, wallet in, and we were heading down the staircases. Sometimes its fun to act on instincts. We were still thinking what to munch on, when we crossed a puchkawaala. I was saying something to Deepak, but he was suddenly lost in some other world. He simply could not put his eyes off the puchkas. Though I usually ask him to avoid puchkas, I couldn’t do that then. He was drooling, figuratively.
As he devoured puchkas one after the other, the satisfying expression on his face was not the one to be missed out. He was thoroughly enjoying every moment, rather every puchka. At that instance, he would have rejected offers from the best chefs around the world to taste their best cuisine. He love Puchkas and so does many others in India. Those who were giving company to Deepak at puchkawaala, had similar expressions. I realized how cruel I had been in asking him to stay away from his prized sustenance.
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