Nice Doing Business With You!

A while back in my kitchen, the thought of getting the blunt knife in my hand back in shape brought back a vivid recollection of a long forgotten enterprise: that of the ‘Dhaar Waala’-ambitiously riding his bicycle equipped with the bulky sharpening stone calling out to the housewives frustrated with their ill performing knives pretty much like I was moments ago.

For a buck or two, he would glaze all the kitchen knives along the stone’s edge, sparks flying, and shades in place and voila! as good as brand new-job well done. I so enjoyed watching him perform this very important task.

Music to my ears then was these five words `Har Ek Maal Do Rupiya’ these men were fondly called the `Harekmaals’ by the entire neighborhood. At least, that is what we kids started calling him and the lingo caught on with the elders too. Usually in pairs, these tall men carried on their heads, the weight of what I like to believe, was a Pandora’s Box for little people like me. One could find anything and everything in there and we wide eyed kids would surround him as he enthusiastically unraveled a world of joy to us! We were at liberty to pick any item- plastic toys, bangles, mini utensils, bindis- and each item cost the same. No wonder our folks did not mind spoiling us with goodies he brought us.

For entertainment, we had Hemamalini and Dharmendra- two tiny primates who never failed to crack us  up - kids and adults alike. The rhythmic drumming noise associated with this mobile circus of two ensured a gradual collection of an eager crowd out in their compounds awaiting their turns to be amused. Often, neighbors from the adjoining houses would walk up or down the lane and catch the show as a larger group. The `Bandar Waala’ dressed the celebrity duo different every time he visited- colorful, vibrant and of course, classy!

Mishti Doi (Sweet Curd) in my locality was synonymous with the name `Sunil Ghosh’. I have not tasted better curd till date. In his white dhoti and starched white vest, he bore on his shoulders what many of us would eventually crown the king of all Mishti Doi. Was it a special recipe, some secret proportions or were the earthen pots which he sold them in responsible for the heavenly taste? We shall never know. I remember he charged extra if you wanted to keep the earthenware and had to pay a fine if you delayed return when he came knocking at your door to collect and recycle the same. Nonetheless, he made mealtime so much better.

The grownups never had to bother buying mattresses because the `Tushok Ala’ (mattress guy) would religiously visit every summer, walking the lane, strumming his instrument announcing his arrival and thereby relieving the people of the hood of bed time woes. It would always be sunny when he came calling; often with an associate/trainee to help him out. He would make himself comfortable on the lawn and noisily go about fluffing and stuffing mattresses. A month  or two later,all the denizens of the locality would finally sleep soundly.

This write up doubles up as an ode to such industries, these and others like them. Despite their quirks, the mindless haggling and the seemingly forgettable presence then, I am pleasantly surprised to realize how well I remember those moments even after all these years. An everlasting impression of sorts. 

I bet many of us have had our fair share of encounters with such `businesses’ and most of us might concur that it was indeed nice doing business with them!