If you think about it, relationships are a lot like Jalebis. You take your first bite and it’s crisp and crunchy, and as you delve deeper into the swirls, seemingly sweet and juicy. And why not? It’s enjoyable to most of us, to say the least. Humans have organically been drawn to sweet things because of our primate nature and heritage. Once we get an inkling of something dipped in the chashni of delight, we go for it irrespective of whether we see a prospective sense of fulfillment or not.
But beware! The sugary rush slowly enters your bloodstream, making you feel like an addict – very alive and kicking – but over time you see a pattern – one of emotional highs and dramatic lows. Jalebi does not find itself in the list of a recommended diet and of course not – it’s not healthy. As you mature and realize it, you set up diet plans to measure and limit the amount of Jalebi you can take. You start looking at it objectively which does help in a few cases, but many give in because there is a hunger that cannot be ignored or suppressed.
A pack of dark chocolate is all you need to keep yourself sane. Keep it on the side! .
And an overdose of Jalebi may also make you averse to it and that’s when you start seeking a generous dollop of rabdi in it. You look out in your vicinity, and one fine day, as you pass by your papa’s most trusted mithai shop, and mistakenly exchange glances with the local Halwai uncle, he starts pointing towards his adorned glass panel hinting that there is Jalebi to be had but you respectfully excuse yourself this time. For a moment, you do wonder how this not-so-good-looking Halwai can create perfect Jalebis like this. There was the effort that went into making this delicious goodness – each swirl needing utmost attention and focus; and the muslin-clad batter a little bit of nurturing to come out just about right.
You come back another day to have his Jalebis, and this time you come with resolve, probably fueled by a night of influenced introspection. Halwai uncle has suddenly become your favorite uncle but looks like it’s his stern-looking younger brother at the counter standing in for the week as the elder is out on business. Such a mood dampener! The younger brother, a retired schoolmaster from the nearby village – a character straight out of Oliver Goldsmith’s poem, never wanted to be in the business of Jalebis. He is unmarried and never cared about the family business nor the Jalebis. The shop didn’t look tidy as it was the week before and you could see some Makkhis humming around the Jalebis you badly wanted. Not again, you say – not the Makkhis! You come back home and head straight to your room – without the Jalebis – and your mom trying to sense the gloomy cloud around your head. Like a typical mom, she magically extracts everything that has transpired till now and reminds you of an invitation from another Mithaiwala uncle who has a bigger and tidier shop somewhere uptown. Your eyes light up as you do remember the highly maintained Jalebis you saw in there some time back. The ones with silver foil act as a decoy to enchant you and distract you from the real deal. Maybe it’s all the same but you’d not know till you dig yourself into the sumptuous goodness it has to offer.
Needless to say, excess of anything is endangering, and Jalebis are no exception. If consumed judiciously, it would sweeten your life in the best ways, but if you go overboard, it’s a one-way trip to diabetes town, so, bachke raho! Also, beware of the craving as it’s never wise to put your self-esteem somewhere in between a kilo of Jalebis and a seemingly warm cuddle. And don’t be surprised if you do get tired of Jalebis over time and think hmm, where’s the Fafda?
P.S. – It’s you!