Jhal Muri: Embracing Life's Unpredictable Flavours

By Gaurab Dasgupta

 Step into a world of unexpected emotions in "Jhalmuri: Embracing Life's Unpredictable Flavours." Are you ready to savor life's unforeseeable twists and turns, much

• Language: English
• Publisher: Blue Rose Publishers
• Release date: Mar 26, 2024
• ISBN: 9789359897424

Book preview

Introduction

I welcome you to this classic Indian snack, a spicy literary take on life and its myriad palette cleansers. Enter this world where the unexpected meets the resolute. Discover life and relationships as they unravel before your eyes on a platter full of words. This series cherry-picks some vivid stories, from a wide selection of genres, suited to your taste buds.

From horror to drama, sports to mystery, coming of age to parenting dilemmas, Jhalmuri is an attempt to bring you the rich aromatic flavors that are a hallmark of this cult street food snack.

This book promises to be a page-turning, mouthwatering, crafty collection of an abundance of experiences, which will tantalize your senses with its colorful, tangy and often uncommon assortment of ingredients.

Much like the crunchy puffed rice, you will find the nuttiness in the narrative, the punch of the mustard oil will make your eyes water even as the hit of the chilly and spice mix will bring alive all those moments when life tested you and yours. The finely chopped onions, the chunky coconuts and mushy bhel are added to further make this mix, a mouthful of introspection, as you soak in the experiences, munching on this true-blue bong ensemble, as you amble merrily at your bedside.

Jhalmuri serves as a fitting metaphor, reminding us that life is loaded with surprises –– no two helpings are the same and no two chefs will ever serve the same dish, each service will have its own highs and lows and every single mouthful a whole new experience of culinary delight. We are sure you will devour every single morsel this book has to offer.

The Author writes for you, from his experiences, his acquaintances and his memories, lining up this collection of shorts, each tale that will provide you with a unique taste of life experiences. Prepare to be dignified, daunted, disappointed and delighted, as you smack your lips with every new bite, set on this table hosting a simple meal called life.

So, let us savor each moment, munch on these ditties and relish the sensory joy they bring and maybe wash it down with a gulp of "bhaarer cha" (the Great Indian clay pot of tea) on the side.

As you dive into this literary feast, we hope these stories will surprise you with life's unpredictable flavors.

Let Jhalmuri charge your emotions, fuel your motivation and ignite your zest for life. Join us on a culinary adventure… your journey awaits!

God Bless your appetite!

1

Happily, ever after…

Asea of white apparel and hunched shoulders filled the small town of Surat as the funeral procession for Rohan Mehta commenced. The scent of incense and roses hung heavily in the air, mingling with the somber melodies of the hymns that echoed through the crowd. Ayesha Patel, Rohan's fiancée, stood in the front row, her hands clasped tightly together as if holding on to a lifeline.

Stay strong, beta, Mrs. Patel whispered, placing a reassuring hand on Ayesha's back. Her mother's touch was both comforting and heavy, bearing the weight of their shared loss.

Yes, Maa, Ayesha replied, her voice barely audible over the sound of her own heartbeat. She could feel the tears threatening to spill from her eyes, but she fought to keep them at bay.

Karan, Ayesha's older brother, stood next to her, his jaw clenched tight. There was a storm brewing in his eyes, silent yet fierce. He reached out and squeezed Ayesha's shoulder, his grip communicating a wordless promise – he would be there for her no matter what.

Rohan was like a brother to me, Karan began, struggling to maintain composure. I can’t believe he's gone.

None of us can, Nina Desai, Ayesha's best friend, added softly. Her presence was like a warm embrace, familiar and comforting. Nina had been by Ayesha's side since they were children, and now, in this moment of profound pain, she remained unwaveringly supportive.

As the funeral rites continued, Rohan's mother, Uma Mehta, stepped forward to offer her eulogy. Her petite frame quivered with grief, but her voice held steady as she spoke about her son's kindness, wit, his love for life and Ayesha.

Rohan would have wanted us to remember him with joy, not sadness, Uma said, a bittersweet smile gracing her lips. He always had a way of making difficult times bearable.

Ayesha felt a stab in her chest as she thought about Rohan's laugh, how it had been the soundtrack to their love story. The memory seemed both distant and vivid, a cruel reminder of the future they would never get to share together.

As the funeral came to an end, Ayesha stared at the mound of freshly turned earth that now marked Rohan's final resting place. She could not shake the feeling that a part of her was now lying scattered in those very ashes.

Say goodbye, Ayesha, Mrs. Patel urged gently, sensing her daughter's hesitation.

Goodbye, my love, Ayesha whispered, allowing a single tear to roll down her cheek. It was not enough – it would never be enough – but it was a start.

Together, surrounded by family and friends, Ayesha took her first steps toward a life without Rohan. And though the road ahead was uncertain, she knew one thing for sure: she would carry his memory with her, always.

In the weeks following Rohan's funeral, Ayesha found herself adrift, like a solitary leaf caught in a wayward gust of wind. The world outside her window continued to spin and yet she remained still, trapped in a cocoon of grief. The crowded streets of Surat felt foreign to her now, their vibrant colors dulled by the darkness of her loss. Even the comforting scent of her mother's cooking, which had once filled their home with warmth, seemed muted and distant.

Dear, I know this is hard for you, Mrs. Patel said one evening as they sat together in the dimly lit kitchen. Her voice was gentle, laced with worry, but Ayesha could hear the steel beneath it – the unyielding strength that had carried their family through countless hardships over the years. But we can’t let grief consume us. We have to keep living.

Ayesha stared down at her hands; her fingers twisted together in her lap. She understood her mother's words, but the thought of moving forward without Rohan left her feeling untethered and lost. What do I do, Ma? she whispered, her voice cracking under the strain of her emotions. How do I live without him?

Mrs. Patel reached across the table, her warm hand enveloping Ayesha's. You talk to someone, dear. Someone who can help you make sense of all this pain.

Are you suggesting therapy? Ayesha asked hesitantly, her eyes meeting her mother’s for the first time since their conversation began.

Yes, Mrs. Patel replied firmly. I've made an appointment for you with Dr. Anjali Shah. She's a wonderful therapist who helped your cousin Rekha when she lost her husband.

Ma, I don’t know if I'm ready, Ayesha murmured, doubt clouding her thoughts. Could therapy really help her find her way back to the world she had once known? Was it even possible to heal from a wound as deep as this?

Sometimes, we must take a leap of faith, Mrs. Patel said, her voice filled with conviction. You’re stronger than you think, Ayesha. And I know Rohan would want you to find happiness again. With a heavy heart, Ayesha agreed to attend her first session with Dr. Shah.

As she entered the therapist's office, she was struck by its serene atmosphere: soft instrumental music playing in the background, the scent of lavender hanging in the air, warm sunlight streaming through the window.

Hello, Ayesha, Dr. Shah greeted her with a kind smile. I'm so glad you decided to come. I know this is a difficult step for you, but I promise we’ll work through it together.

The words felt like balm on Ayesha's frayed nerves and she offered a tentative nod in return. As they settled into their chairs, Ayesha took a deep breath and began to peel back the layers of her heartache, each word a testament to the love she and Rohan had shared.

And as she spoke, the first fragile seeds of hope began to take root within her – a quiet acknowledgment that, while life would never be the same, there was still a path forward, waiting to be discovered.

I have an exercise that I think might be helpful for you, Ayesha, she said gently. It's called role-playing. We’ll pretend that Rohan is here with us and you’ll speak to him as if he were still alive.

A knot of anxiety tightened in her stomach, but Ayesha nodded hesitantly, willing to try anything for even a semblance of relief from her grief.

Close your eyes, Ayesha, Dr. Shah instructed. Picture Rohan sitting in front of you. Take your time and let his image become clear in your mind.

As Ayesha closed her eyes, Rohan's face appeared before her – the dimples that graced his cheeks when he smiled, the warmth in his eyes that always made her feel safe. Her heart ached at the memory of his touch, the sound of his laughter echoing in her ears.

Rohan, she whispered, her voice trembling. There's so much I wish I could say to you. Our plans, our dreams… they’re all gone now.

Dr. Shah's empathetic gaze followed Ayesha as she spoke, sensing the raw vulnerability in every word. She encouraged her to keep going, helping Ayesha navigate the emotional terrain of her loss.

Remember our trip to Manali last year? Ayesha continued, tears welling in her eyes. We’d planned to go back there after our wedding, to start our new life together. But now… I don’t know how to move forward without you.

Over the course of several sessions, Ayesha found solace in these imagined conversations with Rohan, pouring out her fears and longings to the man who had once been her rock. Yet, despite the comfort she derived from these role-playing exercises, a sense of disorientation still lingered – a constant reminder that her world had been irrevocably altered.

Dr. Shah, Ayesha confided one day, her voice thick with emotion. I can’t shake this feeling of being lost, as if I'm adrift without an anchor.

Your loss is immense, Ayesha, Dr. Shah replied, her eyes filled with understanding. And it's natural to feel disoriented. But remember, you are not alone on this journey. I'm here to guide and support you.

As their therapy sessions progressed, Ayesha began to view Dr. Shah as more than just her therapist – she was a mentor, a steadying presence in the tumultuous sea of emotions. And with each session, Ayesha found herself growing stronger, learning to navigate the complexities of her grief with newfound resilience.

Keep going, Ayesha, Dr. Shah encouraged her during one particularly difficult session. You are finding your way through the darkness and I have no doubt that you will emerge even stronger than before.

With the unwavering support of her mentor, Ayesha took another tentative step towards healing, determined to honor Rohan's memory by embracing the life that still lay ahead of her.

The sun set over the small garden where Ayesha found herself seated with Nina and Uma. The air, fragrant with the scent of jasmine, carried with it an undercurrent of laughter as they reminisced about Rohan – his witty remarks, infectious laugh and the way he had always been able to bring light to even the darkest of days.

Remember when he tried to cook dinner for us? Nina asked, her eyes sparkling with mirth. He managed to burn everything, even the salad!

Uma chuckled softly; the sound enveloped by the gentle rustling of leaves above. Oh, I remember that night very well. He was so proud of himself, though. It took all my strength not to burst out laughing.

Ayesha allowed herself to be swept up in their tales, her heart filled with warmth as she pictured Rohan's sheepish grin. For a moment, happiness bloomed within her, vibrant and alive like the flowers surrounding them. But the guilt arrived almost immediately, gnawing at her insides as if to remind her that she had no right to feel joy when Rohan was no longer with them.

Is it wrong for me to feel happy? she whispered; her voice barely audible as she sought solace from the two women who had become her anchors in the storm.

Of course not, Uma replied gently, reaching out to clasp Ayesha's hand. Rohan would have wanted you to find joy again, to live your life to the fullest in his absence.

Uma's right, Nina chimed in, her tone resolute. You deserve happiness, Ayesha.

As Ayesha absorbed their words, she began to understand that moving on was not a betrayal of Rohan but rather an act of love – honoring the memory of a man who had brought so much joy to their lives. She allowed herself to breathe, her chest swelling with newfound resolve as she vowed to embrace the happiness that still awaited her.

But unbeknownst to Ayesha, a pair of watchful eyes observed the intimate gathering from behind a curtained window. Nisha Joshi, her neighbor, quickly took it upon herself to spread news of Ayesha's apparent recovery throughout the community, embellishing the tale with each retelling until it warped into an unrecognizable narrative of callousness and insensitivity.

Can you believe it? she whispered conspiratorially to her latest audience, her voice dripping with disdain. Laughing and carrying on like nothing happened, not even a month after Rohan's death. I don’t know how she can live with herself.

The malicious words spread like the common cold, dripping and wet with infectious ill-will, reaching Ayesha's ears just as she was beginning to find a grip on her healing process. Her face flushed with shame, a heavy weight settled upon her chest, suffocating her newfound sense of hope.

Let them talk, Nina insisted, her voice fierce as she wrapped an arm around Ayesha's trembling shoulders. They don’t know what you’ve been through or how hard you’re working to heal.

But despite her friend's reassurances, the betrayal stung, adding another layer of pain to Ayesha's already fragile emotional state.

Yet amidst the turmoil, she clung to the knowledge that she was not alone – that she had the unwavering support of those who truly understood her heart. And with each passing day, she found herself growing stronger, more determined than ever to honor Rohan's memory.

Have you tried that new bakery down the street yet? Nina asked one evening, attempting to distract her friend from her troubled thoughts. I heard their lemon tarts are absolutely divine.

Ayesha forced a small smile, appreciating Nina's efforts. No, not yet, she admitted, her voice tinged with guilt. Maybe next week?

Sure, we can go together, Nina replied, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze.

As they continued their walk, Ayesha found herself drawn to the familiar sights and sounds of her beloved town. The laughter of children playing in the park, the melodious call of the ice cream seller, and even the scent of freshly baked muffins wafting through the air – all evoked memories of happier times spent with Rohan.

Isn’t it strange? Ayesha mused, her brow furrowing in contemplation. How life goes on, no matter what? Even when it feels like your entire world has stopped.

Nina nodded solemnly, understanding the weight of her words. It is, she agreed. But maybe that's the beauty of it, too. That no matter how lost we may feel, there's always a new day waiting for us.

A part of Ayesha longed to embrace that notion, to find solace in the promise of a brighter tomorrow. And yet, the guilt that plagued her refused to subside, the gnawing feeling that she was somehow betraying Rohan by seeking happiness in his absence.

Sometimes I wonder, she confessed, her voice scarcely more than a whisper, if moving on means forgetting him.

Of course not, Nina replied firmly. Moving on doesn’t mean forgetting, Ayesha. It means learning to live with the memories and cherishing them, while also making room for new experiences and people in your life.

But what if I can’t? Ayesha asked, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. What if my heart is too broken to ever heal?

Your heart isn’t broken, Nina insisted, pulling Ayesha into a gentle embrace. It's bruised, yes, and it will take time to heal.

As they stood there, wrapped in the comforting warmth of friendship, Ayesha allowed herself to believe – if only for a moment – that perhaps she could find her way through the labyrinth of grief and emerge on the other side, scarred but not broken.

Ayesha's heart was heavy as she left Dr. Shah's office. Her footsteps echoed on the pavement, each one a reminder of the journey she had yet to traverse.

Excuse me, a familiar voice called out from behind her, sending a shiver down her spine. She held her breath, scarcely daring to believe her ears. Could it be?

Rohan? she whispered, turning around hesitantly. And there he stood, grinning just as infectiously as ever, his eyes shining with warmth and affection.

Hey, Ayesha, he said softly, taking a tentative step toward her. It's been a while, hasn’t it?

Rohan… is this real? Her voice trembled with a mixture of disbelief and hope as she reached out to touch him, her fingers brushing against the solidness of his arm. The contact sent a jolt through her and she suddenly felt more alive than she had in months.

Real enough, he replied, his smile bittersweet. I'm here to help you, Ayesha. To guide you through the grieving process and give you the closure you need.

Help me? But how? A thousand unspoken questions danced in the depths of her dark eyes as she searched his face for answers.

By talking, Rohan said gently, enveloping her hand in his own. By sharing our feelings, our thoughts, our memories and letting it strengthen us as we move forward.

As they walked together, Ayesha found herself opening up to Rohan in ways she had not been able to with anyone else. She recounted her struggles, her fears, and her moments of joy, each memory tinged with both heartache and love.

Sometimes I wonder if I truly knew you, she admitted one day, sitting in the park where they sat. Did I ever disappoint you, Rohan? Did I ever make you feel anything less than loved?

Never, he assured her, his gaze steady and sincere. You were my light; Ayesha and I cherished every moment we had together. But I also know that life is unpredictable, and our time was cut short. It is not your fault, and it is not mine. It's just… the way things are.

As their conversations continued, Ayesha began to see a different side of Rohan – the side he rarely showed to others, vulnerable and introspective. Somehow, knowing that he too had grappled with doubt and uncertainty made her feel closer to him than ever before.

Promise me something, he said one evening as they stood beneath a sky streaked with fiery hues, their hands intertwined. Promise me that you’ll keep living, even when it hurts. That you’ll cherish the memories we created together, but also make room for new experiences, new dreams.

Rohan… Her voice cracked with emotion as she looked into his eyes, trying to memorize every detail, every nuance of his beautiful face. I promise.

Thank you, he whispered, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead. Remember, Ayesha… you are mentally tougher than you think.

And as she stood there, tears streaming down her cheeks, she finally understood what it meant to move on – not to forget, but to honor the love they had shared by embracing the life that still awaited her.

Ayesha's hands twisted anxiously in her lap as the park around her glowed golden with the evening light. Rohan stood beside her, his eyes filled with empathy and concern. Though she had grown accustomed to his presence over time, some part of her still wondered if he would suddenly disappear like a mirage – leaving her alone once more.

Rohan, she began hesitantly, her voice barely a whisper, I… I'm scared.

Of what, Ayesha? he asked gently, sitting down beside her.

Of losing you again, she admitted, tears welling up in her eyes. I've become so attached to you being here, helping me through this grief. But I know one day you’ll leave again, and I don’t know if I can handle that.

Rohan reached out and took her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Ayesha, I understand your fear, but you have made progress in facing your grief, and you’ll continue to grow even after I'm gone.

But how can I be sure? she sobbed, her shoulders shaking with the weight of her emotions. How can I trust myself to carry on without you?

Because you’ve already started doing just that, he replied softly. You’ve been attending therapy, connecting with others and rediscovering joys in life. Those are all steps towards healing and they show that you have the strength within you to keep moving forward.

Ayesha looked into Rohan's eyes, searching for truth in his words.