The joy in the taste of ordinary pakoras

A small fry shop on the side of a busy night street seems to have its own story unfolding. A large black cauldron on the stove, still stained with frying oil and heat—witnesses of a day's hard work. A large pot of gola batter is next to it, and freshly fried pakoras are in a basket. Even though the shopkeeper's hands have stopped moving, the aroma of frying still lingers in the atmosphere. Red buckets of water, stands, stoves—all together, a scene of authentic street food. Two hot golden-brown pakoras. Grains of salt are stuck on top, as if a hint of taste. This food served on a piece of newspaper not only fills the stomach, but also awakens memories of childhood and the road. Evening chats, cool air, along with the taste of such pakoras—a combined feeling of village and city. The simple arrangement of this shop contains stories of people's laughter, conversation, and finding happiness at low cost. There is no luxury here, there is sincerity. The stains of the pan, torn paper, dusty roads—everything together creates our ever-familiar street food culture. It highlights the simple yet comfortable taste of our own life.