Fruit of the Gloom

The hustle seems to be missing from the bustle on the way to Chandni Chowk. While the usually chaotic metro station, and the even more chaotic part of Delhi it caters to, can in no way be described as deserted, or even desolate, given that as many people live on the entire continent of Australia as in the National Capital Region, there’s definitely less of a churn of humanity. 

However, there is nothing subdued about the little nook that has served as Hira Lal Chaat Corner for more than a century, nor about at any of the other tiny eateries that pepper the streets and alleys of Old Delhi’’s own  puraani Dilli, which stand out like warm beacons, thronging with activity, seemingly insulated from the general air of caution that has enveloped the city. And at Hira Lal, in Gali Lohe Wali, the optics are especially bright. 

The chaat shop has been in business for the last 130 years (an approximate figure, as with so many of its ilk), and is arguably still so as one of the finest, not to mention one of the only, establishments in the Capital that sells Kuliya chaat. The origins of the dish vary, from current owner Ram Babu Kushwaha saying his ancestors were inspired by the illustrious Raj Kachori of Rajasthan when creating their own version, to the more prosaic (and perhaps more logical) explanation of the snack being named after the kulad (earthen vessel) it so resembles. 

Whatever its origin story, the chaat is easy enough to explain, and all the easier to polish off, on the roadside. The actual Kuliya consists of potatoes and tuber vegetables hollowed out to form edible containers (the aforementioned kulad) into which is stuffed spiced chickpea and other tangy chaat accoutrements; the fruit chaat simply substitutes the veggie vessels with, you’ll never believe it, fruits like melons and pineapple. 

The latter seem to be selling more on these blustery spring afternoons, and while things like plastic disposable gloves for the servers are more in evidence, there seems to be no ebb in the flow of customers, and the management agrees that fallout has, so far, been minimal. As the person behind us, who’s been cordially eavesdropping into our conversation, observes, “Duvidha jo bhi ho, aadmi toh aadmi hi hai, na? Khana toh sab ko hai. (Whatever the problem, people are still people. We all have to eat)”  Amen. Let’s just remember to wash our hands, before AND after.