The bleat from the street

What with all the apps delivering straight to one’s doorstep, the supermarkets, the food halls and even the occasional (super-expensive) pop-up thela (cart) offering the woke from field-to-fork option, the good old veggie-market/mandi has fallen off my regular beat.

- ANUJA CHAUHAN

But I love the energy and the atmosphere of a hardcore street market, and I have many fond memories of being my mother’s pack-mule, trotting back loaded down with fresh yummy veggies (spread evenly into two plastic baskets to balance the weight) while she strutted ahead, bright-eyed and flushed with the joy of a good bargain.

So, this Diwali, I, along with an NRI pal, visited the weekly market that is held fairly close to our home outside Bengaluru to soak up some of those old-school vibes. It was more crowded than we remembered, and more exotic (lots of dragon fruit and rambutan happening), and, of course, nobody was giving away chillies and coriander bunches for free. But what really made us do a double-take was the cries of the street vendors.