Monsoon of Memories: “Free” Chilies and coriander Leaves
In these times when many people order their groceries online and are drawn towards “Buy One, Get One” offers, I find myself still smitten by the sabziwalas of my childhood who added “free” ingredients to my bag, to prepare a coriander chutney.
For years, in our neighborhood market, a handful of vegetable vendors have been parking their carts in a neat row. They arrive early in the mornings and leave after sunset, or sometimes even later. Once upon a time, they sold the usual vegetable fare—onions, tomatoes, cauliflowers, turnips, etc.; but over the years, they have expanded their range of offerings. These days, when I visit them, I see their carts lined with packets of tofu, egg noodles, and sprouts. I feel a sense of pride in how well they’ve adapted to changing times. Sometimes, they ask me if I’d like to buy celery or kale, even offering me recipes to include in my diet.
It’s startling how many memories come to my mind from my childhood when I was often assigned the task of fetching something from the market. I’d watch the vegetable vendors sprinkle water on the produce. The tiny droplets instantly added a dash of sparkle to the greens. Once a vendor told me that this was their way to tempt buyers by giving the greens a feeling of freshness.
I asked them to fill up the bag with whatever mom had asked me to fetch, and then watched them patiently as they weighed it and handed over a piece of paper to me with the final amount scribbled on it in a hurried hand. After I had paid and collected the change, came the best part! The vendor, “Uncle” as I called him back then, asked me to bring the bag closer and dropped in a fistful of fresh green chilies and another fistful of coriander bunches. For the longest time, I thought that this display of generosity was a mark of appreciation for my good behavior. I ran home and told mum how I had been rewarded, and she smiled.
While decades have passed, the “Uncles,” with their faithful carts, can be found at the same spots even as they compete with a barrage of online vendors. A few have now been joined by their children who assist them in their work. Now, as I found out, one can WhatsApp them in the morning to keep a pumpkin or so aside to be collected later during the day. And of course, the freebies are still on offer, just like old days.
As I look back, I wonder what was it about getting a few chilies and a bunch of coriander leaves complimentary that felt so charming. Now, when most people order their groceries online and are drawn towards “Buy One, Get One” and “Great Indian Sale” offers, I find myself still smitten by the vendors who add “free” ingredients to prepare a mint or coriander chutney to my bag.
I’m also reminded of the local shopkeepers, who have seen us grow and move from high school to being parents, offering us candy instead of “change” when we were kids! And how I happily accepted a mint candy or strawberry-flavored bubblegum instead of fifty paise or a rupee. Yes, I am talking of an era when a lot could be bought for a penny.
Perhaps then, it was the simplicity marked by generosity, loyalty, and trust that made it so endearing. Did we ever check if they had weighed the vegetables correctly? Or did they ever complain when we were short of a rupee or two? No. We bid goodbye even as we said, “Uncle, thodi mirchi daal deejiye! (Uncle, please add in a few chilies!)”
Purva Grover is an author, journalist, poet, playwright, and stage director. A postgraduate in mass communication and literature, she is the founder-editor of The Indian Trumpet, a digital magazine for Indian expats in the UAE. She can be reached at grover.purva@gmail.com. To comment on this article, please write to letters@khabar.com.
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