The Bhel Urge

I might need to take a pregnancy test. Lol. Seriously, this morning I woke up to this craving urge for Bhel Puri, Chaat Papri, Gol Gappas...

Damn...

For my non-Indian readers, Bhel Puri is a road side snack synonymous with the beaches in Mumbai. It's base is Puffed rice, to which finely cut tomatoes, onions, (lots of) chillies, and chutney are added. It is the best thing you could ever eat in your life.

Chaat Papri (yaar ab kahan kahan search maaru in angrezo ke liye), is a typical roadside snack of chickpeas, mashed potatoes, sweet (red) and sour (green) chutney, and a bit of masala all mixed together. It originated from Nothern India.

Gol Gappas, also known as Pani Puri, again famous in Mumbai, is made from small, round, puffed, hard puris which form the 'container' or shell, and mashed potatoes and cooked chick-peas along with some finely cut onions, with salt and pepper added, and the tingy-tangy chutneys are the stuffing. The Gol Gappa is then dipped in the Pani, which means water, made out of tamarind and fresh mint, as well as spices including cumin and balck salt.

I thought it was just coz I've been eating too much of the bland Egyptian and Arabic food that I am craving for the spices. I thought by the time I get to office, I'll forget about it.

But no. The craving grew to such an extent that I started making phonecalls across Qatar to find out where I could get Bhel Puri!

Obviously, the Indian lady sitting nearby couldn't take the sight of my frustration, so she spoke: "Try the Delhi Sweet Shop."

The minute I heard that, I was sure I'd get it there. Come on, if you open a shop called Delhi Sweet Shop and not have Chaat or Bhel Puri or the likes, then you'd rather have a third testicle... right!

Anyway, I didn't wait a second. Shut my computer down, picked up my bag, and started to walk out. "Where do you think you're going," asked my editor in the accent I can't tolerate to save my life.

"I'm going out in search of something... No, not a story this time. Just a snack."... I didn't even bother to look at his face for a reaction. Even if he said no, I would have resigned and gone. Really. That massive... the craving!

Close to 48 degrees, not a leaf moving, roads absolutely empty... but all I could think of was Bhel Puri. I finally found a cab 15 minutes later. I was drrreeenched.

Shara Kharaba, one of the oldest quarters of Doha, is where the Delhi Sweet Shop is. Walking around there is just like walking around in... mmmm... say... Connaught Place. Road side watch repairers, roadside sunglasses, cheap clothes, the bargaining, the cheap restaurants etc etc.

Shara in Arabic means 'road'. Kharaba Road.

Anyway, I walked around there searching for this Delhi Sweet Shop. On the way, picked up four pairs of sunglasses (I am a sunglass-freak. I have about 37 different pairs of shades. Wear a different one everyday. 41 now).

Finally found the Delhi Sweet Shop. I could see the blue and white sign board from 100 yards away. I don't know why, I ran. Lol. People walking around there thought I had just recently lost it!

Entered, the shop, breathing really heavily. Used a platform to put my hand on and lean for a bit with my other hand on my stomach. Breathing heavy. The entire staff, sitting around there mashing potatoes for the samosas, had their faces turned towards me, wondering what does this bearded, round topi-clad man want.

"Bhel-... Bhel Puri."

"Yahan par Bhel Puri nahi milti (We don't sell Bhel Puri)."

"Mazaak mat karo dost. Main bahaut aans lekar aaya tha (Don't joke man. I cam with a lot of hope)."

He told me again and again that they don't sell Bhel Puri. I told him I wanted to check his kitchen. I even went inside the kitchen to check myself. I just refused to believe the bugger. But no Bhel Puri, no Chaat, no Gol Gappas. Only samosas, but that too after 7 pm.

He told me another place, called the Pizza Corner where I might get Bhel Puri. Pizza Corner? Bhel Puri? What's the friggin relevance?

Anyway, I thought this was Doha, anything bloody thing can happen here. Might as well give it a shot.

While walking out of Delhi Sweet Shop I purposely, but slyly though, slid a glass off the table near the door. It broke... just what I wanted. Bloody hell man.

Went to Pizza Corner... WALKED to Pizza Corner, which was about 2 km away, in the hellish heat. The Chinky idiots there only smiled ignorantly when I kept mouthing Bhel Puri Bhel Puri... "Bhel ki Maa Ki Saale Chinki". They obviously didn't know what the screw I was on about.

Luckily, I saw two glass kept on the corner table near the exit door. So this time, I pretended to trip, fell right on that table, and then suddenly spread both my arms pretending to get up. One glass hit the delivery counter, while the other one smashed on the floor.

I then returned to office.

Drreeenched.

Came in and stared at the Indian woman, who told me about Delhi Sweet Shop. Stared. Stared. Kept staring. Sweat dripping down from everywhere.

"Sorry," she said, assuming I was gonna bang her head.

Ate three bland prawn sandwiches, thinking if my stomach is full I won't crave for Bhel. But man, it didn't help.

After sunset, I'm gonna try other restaurants. I've heard Garden Restaurant is having an Indian food fest there. I hope they sell Bhel man.

Else, they'll lose a few glasses as well.