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| The Mumbai toast sandwich is one of my favourite dishes from the streets of Mumbai. This one was at Khar, Linking Road. I think |
This is a work of fiction and satire. I wrote this as I had many dreams in recent times of being part of the resistance in different countries under occupation. This post is based on a melange of metaphors from the dreams.
PS: I have full regard for dieticians and the work they do and myself have full faith in my dietician. I just hope that mine does not put me on intermittent fasting after reading this.
It was the winter of 2022. Christmas had come and gone. A fresh new year lay a few hours away.
The citizens of The East Indian Bottle Masala Republic of Vandre, located on the west coast in the Indian continent, were apprehensive about what was coming their way. The army of the Fourth Dietician Empire, the Evening Walkers, had conquered most of western Europe. They had now set their eyes on the continent of India and specifically Vandre, a land known for its soft ladi pavs, marzipan, croissants and sourdough brioches. Its history of baking can be traced to the Portuguese rule when locals learnt the art of making western breads from their rulers. More recently expat French bakers, as well as locals who had gone to LCB to study baking and patisserie and had returned home, opened up patisseries offering new age French pastry and breads in Vandre that matched the best in the world
The demographics of Vandre is heterogeneous in nature and this raised many questions about its ability to defend itself. Would people belonging to different communities and religions unite to take on the might of the Evening Walkers? Would a creative artist dominated society – whose tools consisted of pens, lapops, guitars, microphone, ring lights and whisks – be able to match the might of a well oiled professional war machine?
The Vandrekars looked to the Portuguese for help given their shared history. Portugal unfortunately decided to stay neutral. Happily making pau with all purpose flour and pastel de nata (egg tarts) while the Evening Walkers sidestepped them and marched towards Vandre.
France was the only hope left for the Vandrekars. Surely they would come to the aid of Vandre given the amount of foreign exchange they had gained thanks to local kids who had gone to LCB to study. Unfortunately, a country whose citizens love arts, food, wine and leading the good life, capitulated rather quickly to the Evening Walkers. The enemy invaded France at 5pm on Thursday. The weekend had began for all including for its military by then and noone works on weekends in France. Century old cafes added items such as avocado toast, vegan salads, cold press juice, egg white omelettes and zucchini spaghetti aglio olio to menus which earlier sported nothing green.
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| Had a beautiful avocado toast at Perch Bandra today. One with a poached egg. |
It was just a matter of time before the Evening Walkers took over Vandre. The Dieticians had raised their flag at Pali Naka. The flag of Vandre which proudly displayed a design of sannas and fugias was replaced with that of the Dieticians which sported picture of a sliced avocado, glaring menacingly at all it surveyed.
Then began the with the hunt for the Resistance. The Evening Walkers would not rest till they made Vandre Gluten free.
First they came for shops that sold ingredients for baking. These were converted into shops selling selling red cabbage, pickled beets, canned plums, vinegar, plum jam, seasoned vinegar, horse radish and white wine. Ingredients for the cool Kraut salad.
Then they came for the bakeries. Be it old school ones selling naram pav and batashe or modern ones selling brioche buns and plum cake flavoured macarons, all were shut down and used to produce pumpernickel bread for the occupation army.
Then they came for the bakers. Those who ran the bakeries, operated cloud kitchens or were home bakers. They were commandeered to teach the art of baking to the spouses (gender neutral) of the officers of the Evening Walkers who sat at home bored in muggy Vandre.
Then they came for me and my fellow foodies. We scurried and hid in the last few cottages remaining in Vandre. The rest were converted into skyscrapers with one flat per floor by the ruling army. Leading to the gentrification of what was once called ‘the queen of the suburbs.’
We ran from one quaint cottage to another when the bulldozers came. We clutched onto tote bags packed with few of our precious belongings. Some had crosses, Qurans, pictures of Guru Nanak Dev or murtis of Ganpathi. Some carried family albums. Some carried a change of clothes. Some medicines. Some marijuana and ecstacy. Some jewellery.
And me? I had packed a Mumbai toast sandwich. Purchased from the sandwich toast stall at Linking Road. Made with soft Wibbs refined flour commercial bread. Sandwiched in it were slices of boiled potato, tomato, capsicum, onion and beetroot with a snow storm of shredded process cheese adorning it, green chutney smeared at the base. The sandwich was toasted in a hand held toaster, the interiors of which was greased with butter. Once out, its edges nice and crusty, the sandwich-wala cut the sandwich into squares and then covered it with a liberal serving of butter, green chutney and red sauce and then sev.
If I was caught by the dieticians, it would not before I had my last Bombay toast sandwich.
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| Sandwich-wala at Fort |
