Paan

I thought it would be a great idea to have a paan. S thought it would be a great idea for me to have a Banarasi paan. And it did sounds like a good idea. It was something new and I was bored enough to have something with supari in it (I am ultra health-conscious).

We are at the most popular paanwala in Juhu which means the place has eons of history and paan juice probably runs in the blood of the three pot-bellied men with bleeding red mouths who sit there making paans endlessly.

A light green leaf cut at the stalk is stained with chuna-katta and then a little bit of salli supari is placed in the centre. The paanwala looks at S to ask whether there would be a need for any more additions. S, being the man, who was initiating me into the real paan world, suggests a little wet supari in it. S looks at me and says, “The first time I had it, my ears went hot.”

After folding it like the elegant art of origami, he hands it over. I bite into it and eat it rather enthusiastically. It’s like eating rocks and a leaf. I chew, chew like a cow and still the pieces do not dissolve the way normal food does. I am thinking now - how does one swallow this?!

S looks at me struggling and confused. Spit it out, he says.

No, no. no. I am okay.

I am still chewing as I say this. The rocks are now tiny pebbles and I am sure by now I have lost certain capacities of my mouth to function permanently.

Then, I spit. I grab the bottle of water from his hand, gargle and spit. So much for enthusiasm. So much for- ‘No, no. no. I am okay.’

I am back to eating my meetha paan with the Barbie doll dressing. I am trying to force all of it in my mouth making a complete mess of it with paan dripping at the edges of my mouth which S finds funny. We begin to walk and as we pass another paanwala, S asks, “You want to have a paan?”