Street, Adda & Station
Tille Wali Kulfi
The bell came before the cart. Coins in your hand, impatience in your step, and a kulfi that never lasted as long as you planned.
He never really called out.
Bas bell bajata tha. ting... ting... slow, steady.
You could hear it from inside the house, even with the fan running, even with someone shouting from the kitchen.
And suddenly, sabko yaad aa jaata - kulfi wala aa gaya.
By the time he reached the gali, 2-3 kids were already outside. Slippers half-worn, coins tight in fist, shouting back inside, "aa raha hoon!"
The cart wasn't fancy. Just a wooden box on wheels. Ice, namak, and those metal lids that never closed properly.
Inside, rows of kulfi.
Some straight, some slightly tilted. Like they had their own mood.
First question was always the same.
"Kitne ki?"
Even when you knew.
Coins nikalte the - ek rupiya, do rupiya, kabhi paanch ka sikka if you were lucky that day. Sometimes you had enough. Sometimes you'd look sideways at your friend.
"The kulfi never lasted, but the pause before it came out of the mould somehow still does."
Woh samajh jaata.
Vendor kuch bolta nahi tha. Bas dekh leta.
He'd open the lid - thoda sa dhuaan nikalta, cold wali smell. Hand inside, ek mould pakadta... phir seedha nahi nikalta tha.
Side mein ek chhota sa dabba hota tha paani ka.
Usme halka sa ghumata - ek, do second. Bas utna hi.
Wahi pe thoda ruk jaate the.
Pata nahi kyun, but you'd watch closely. Jaise dekhna zaroori hai kya nikalne wala hai.
Phir haath se rub rub... aur ek jhatke mein kulfi bahar.
Kabhi bilkul seedhi. Kabhi thodi tedhi. Kabhi stick thodi loose.
"Arre ruk," he'd fix it with his thumb, press karke seedha kar deta.
You took it fast.
Because dhoop ho ya shaam, kulfi wait nahi karti.
First bite hamesha ajeeb hota tha. Daant lagate hi thoda jhatka. Then you adjust.
Phir jaldi jaldi.
Too fast.
Kabhi kabhi, beech mein halka sa namak bhi lag jaata.
Shayad ice se. Shayad haath se. Shayad bas wahi se.
Ek second ke liye taste change hota... phir gayab.
But woh ek second yaad reh gaya.
Ice cream mein kabhi nahi aaya phir.
Drips start ho jaate. Fingers sticky. You keep turning it, licking sides, trying to save jo gir raha hai.
Koi na koi pehle finish kar deta.
"Ho gayi?" "Bas yaar chhoti thi."
Jhoot.
Sabki jaldi khatam hoti thi.
Stick haath mein reh jaati thodi der. Aadat se pakde rehte the, jaise aur kuch aayega.
Phir neeche fek dete.
Tab tak woh aage nikal chuka hota. Bell phir bajti - agli gali ke liye.
ting... ting...
Years later, you can buy better ice cream.
AC ke andar. Clean cup mein. Time leke.
But usmein woh rukna nahi hota.
Aur shayad taste wahi se aata tha.
