I love parottas. That South Indian street food delicacy which can keep you awake all night long if it decides to mess up your intestine. This rarely happens , but when it does, it simply doesn't stop. Like magic .
One day, I was waiting on a flyover with my uncle when the traffic was friggin blocked for an hour. There was a parotta stall nearby. I happened to notice the parotta master using his super acrobatic skills, throwing that flexible flour up and down, left and right. It was quite a view. I wanted more.
Along with those acrobatic movements, his body was shining with sweat. His dirty banian was getting drenched. He wiped it off with his palm and continued beating the flour.
Mosquitoes everywhere, I guess. He was scratching his underarms , then his thighs and slowly his belly. He looked around and then came the crotch. Again quite a view. He then got back to mixing some more flour. More acrobatics. More sweat.
Now I believe the lice on his head had started playing its game. Scratch mode on again. He was half bald. Maybe the rest of his hair was in the flour. Few minutes later, he stopped. He was done now.
Those little balls of flour was kept aside for those flies to enjoy their vacation on it. He went on and washed his hands in a bucket Few minutes ago , the cleaner was washing the plates in the same bucket.
End of scene. The vehicles started moving . Along with the traffic , my love for parotta also vanished.
-Trupthi Jain
Along with those acrobatic movements, his body was shining with sweat. His dirty banian was getting drenched. He wiped it off with his palm and continued beating the flour.
Mosquitoes everywhere, I guess. He was scratching his underarms , then his thighs and slowly his belly. He looked around and then came the crotch. Again quite a view. He then got back to mixing some more flour. More acrobatics. More sweat.
Now I believe the lice on his head had started playing its game. Scratch mode on again. He was half bald. Maybe the rest of his hair was in the flour. Few minutes later, he stopped. He was done now.
Those little balls of flour was kept aside for those flies to enjoy their vacation on it. He went on and washed his hands in a bucket Few minutes ago , the cleaner was washing the plates in the same bucket.
End of scene. The vehicles started moving . Along with the traffic , my love for parotta also vanished.
-Trupthi Jain
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