I eat pani puri every time I'm home. There's a stall near my parents' house, 5 minutes on
foot. The evening crowd there is crazy. Girls, college boys, uncles in office shirts, all holding paper plates.
I've been going there since school. Never thought about the water once, not even once.
Then in March I stood there a bit longer than usual and looked at the water.
The big pot was uncovered, right next to the road. Dust, bikes, a bus going past.
The man handled the water, the puris and the money with the same hand. Fast, no pause.
I'm not saying he was dirty or careless. That's how most stalls work and I know it.
I just saw it all at once, the way you notice a crack in a wall after
years. I still ate 6 puris, because I'm weak. That night I had a bad stomach until morning.
Could have been the puris, could have been the chicken at lunch, I can't prove anything either way.
But my mind decided it was the pani, and now it won't let go.
My mother said, you ate there for 20 years and nothing happened. She wasn't wrong.
Now I check small things. Is the pot covered, does the water smell off, is
the plate area clean. If the stall looks tired I walk past, even if the queue
is long. A long queue doesn't mean much to me any more. Everyone just follows everyone.
I haven't given up pani puri though. I just got pickier, which my friends find hilarious.