"खाने में क्या है???..."

"Everything changes", said a wise man I do not know! While I hoped that a few things wouldn't, one evening, spent a while back proved the wise man correct once more, much to my dismay.

There I was at one of my favourite food adda at Mahim, Mumbai after almost a year and not dramatically speaking, my heart broke.

Any non-vegetarian Mumbaikar worth his bread (no puns intended) would probably know of the Mahim "khau-gully" and it beats me how every second street with a bunch of food vendors is christened so in this city. If Bono would know of this phenomenon, he would be proud U2 sang, "Where the streets have no name"!

And while I'll spare the introduction (of the gully), I can't do without splashing a bit of personal history.

Not too long ago, when one of my early bands practised at our then drummer's place at Mahim, this almost a skid row in front of the Mahim dargah was a huge hit with us for our dose of kebabs, rolls, baida roti, tandoori chicken and some such. We rockstars get hungry easy!

So that lazy Sunday, when my pals had more "happening" things to do and the band I was the vocalist of then didn't have a place to practice, I decided to walk down memory lane (for the lack of a less clichéd phrase).

Late evening, me, bass boy Kamdar and guitar hero, Joy met up at that much familiar and even dirtier food stall; one of the many, of course. Who runs the place, what is it called; do not bother to ask me. More often than not, we were too stoned or tired or simply spaced out to worry ourselves with such details.

So while Kamdar began mooching cigarettes galore off me, Joy made good for the birthday party I never invited him to. Kicking the "celebrations" off was a couple of plates of chicken roll, one chicken baida roti (roti coated in egg, stuffed with chicken and fried) and two plates of tandoori chicken.

Much to Joy's disappointment, there were no chicken breasts available and we had to be content with "leg pieces" (and I am not being pervert at all!)

As the "delicacies" were placed on the jittery plastic table, I rubbed my hands together. Gluttony could be sin but I couldn't care less.

My eyes popped out at the green thing passed off as "chutney". To the regulars, it could be what it is, to the first timer, just a generous serving of green coloured oil. And though it wasn't the first time for me, that chutney makes me sigh every other time.

I hesitantly dipped a piece of the greasy baida roti in the chutney and "savoured" my first bite. I swore not to touch the chutney for the rest of the evening. The roti wasn't bad, if you ask me and compared to what was in store ahead, it wasn't bad at all.

While Joy and I finished the roti and Kamdar further emptied my cigarette pack, I moved on to the chicken legs, which Joy had refused to part with so far. As I took my first bite, I wished he never had. To be kind to the chef, it was not cooked enough, bland and I was scared, it would fly off my plate and into Joy's face if I tried any harder to tear a small piece.

I turned to the chicken roll that is chicken wrapped with a greasy (now this should be taken for granted) roti for the unenlightened ones. It turned out to be the only saviour. Oil aside, the roll tasted just about wonderful as it melted in your mouth. You'd be satisfied, as being roadside food, you wouldn't think much for the lack of fancy garnishing. Add a pinch of chat masala like I did and you wouldn't mind it at all.

Needless to say, we ordered some more. If not for the fact that I actually liked it, then surely because Joy was on a roll (no puns intended, once again)!

We also asked for some boti kebab, a boneless lamb preparation, the worst order of the evening! It looked strange from the word go and it would be fair to say that it was the worst kebab I ever tasted (tried to taste, really).

Pat came the first reaction. "Boyses, this feels like bubble gum in my mouth!!!" Joy went a step further, "Dude, it's worse. Did I just eat latex?" Need I elaborate any further?

I called it a day right there. There were other stuff that place is quite known for but I couldn't dare anymore. If you could leave inhibitions aside, you might want to try what is called "kheeri", which is basically barbecued cow udder. And of course, the paya (lamb leg) soup that slipped my mind.

A word of caution - DO NOT dare to touch the "drinking" water served. After the unmentionable things, I was told the water is used for, I had 7 bottles of "Mirinda" to wash down the meal.

The experience was not kind on the pocket either. When did you last hear of spending almost half a grand of rupees on street food? Though I suspect Joy's gluttony had a huge role to play there and he sheepishly contributed two hundred.

For dessert, we headed to "Baba Falooda". One wouldn't want to miss out on this while in Mahim's khau gully and thankfully, the falooda, a drink made of syrup, vermicelli, ice cream and tapioca seeds was just how it was since I tasted it last. Just so one knows, I completely dote on the "kesar pista special falooda" they make and I think it's worth the 60 bucks it comes for. I might have even licked the last bit off the glass had it not been for all the soda bubbling within me.

And while Kamdar finished the last cigarette I had, and Joy was done cracking the last sad joke for the evening, I took one last look at the street before hopping into a taxi.

It's a shame. As much as I would have loved to come back for another round of kebabs, rolls, tandooris and the works, I think I just might be short of excuses with the band having moved to another suburb (and me having decided to go solo :P). "Good food" for now at least, would be the last one on the mind. So much for wise men!

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All things bright and Biprorshee