I scream... You scream... Ice-cream!

“Ice-cream! Ice-cream!”

The call would be accompanied with the sound of a bell ringing on a summer afternoon. There would be a scramble as my sister and I, we both struggled to open the latch of the drawing room door. We then ran quickly into the sunny garden, bare feet. We would hardly bother to open the gate but climbed up and called out loudly to him. By the time he reached our house, mummy would join us at the gate. We would swing on the gate as mummy drew back the bolt and pushed it. We would then jump down to peer into his magical box attached to a cycle. It was a mystery to us how that box could keep the delicious ice-creams so cold. Mummy asked us to choose the flavour we fancied. There weren’t many flavours and it was easy to take a pick – mango dolly, orange bar and choco bar. There were also those ice-cream cups in vanilla and strawberry flavours. In long plastic packs he had ice-cream cones hanging. Sometimes, we fancied a cone and he would scoop out the ice-cream from a cup and fill a cone for each of us. He sprinkled it liberally with tuti-frutti. How we relished those delightful ice-creams and nibbled the crunchy cones!

Occasionally, the Kulfi-waala would put in an appearance. “Kulfi... Kulfi le lo!” he would yell all the while ringing a bell attached to his hand cart. The large earthen pots arranged on the cart and covered in red cloth looked tempting because they held within, the delicious kulfi. Our grandmother more often than not, discouraged us from eating kulfis saying that there were cockroaches in them. But wonder of wonders she wouldn’t mind having one on a hot afternoon, and got us one each too. Elders are very unpredictable creatures, you know! So, we would bite into that heavenly... creamy... kulfi dripping with ‘roohafza’ – a rose syrup. If we were slow in eating the kulfi, the rose syrup trickled down the wooden stick onto our hands. We didn’t mind licking it up much to our grandmother’s disgust. Mind you... We were sure to get a lecture on etiquettes after that. Oh boy! But we loved it... No...no... not the scolding! I was referring to the Kulfi!

An evening walk with daddy till the Martindale bridge or Mayo College would mean purchasing ice-creams on our way back, homewards. I remember the brands so distinctly – Amul, Vadilal, Kwality Walls, and Go Cool. What fun it was to see daddy purchasing the ice-creams for us! This meant that we were going to have ice-cream after dinner. Once we reached home, mummy placed the ice-creams in the freezer. We waited impatiently for dinner to begin and end. My sister and I hurried through the meal and wished the elders would eat faster. Finally, dinner was over and mummy would bring out the ice-cream cups. These branded ice-creams had those dear little plastic spoons. I remember I was quite fascinated with them and kept adding them to my kitchen set. I also loved the alluring advertisements on T.V. which showed children, adults and even parrots crazy about these ice-creams.

Tell me, has any of you enjoyed the royal taste of a good ‘falooda’? Well, during the summer months whenever we went to the main market in the centre of the city, daddy would take us to this narrow lane which housed two archaic shops. These sold the yummiest faloodas. When you entered one of these teensy-weensy shops you were welcomed with the overpowering fragrance of scented sticks, jasmines and roses. The waiter presented himself like a genie and wanted to know which size of the ‘falooda’ would satiate our taste buds and fill our stomach to bursting, that day. He would nod and grin and disappear... to return shortly with bowls overflowing with thick mawa discs, vermicelli, scoops of ice-cream, rose syrup and a lavish garnishing of chopped nuts. The display was so awesome one couldn’t bring themselves to eat it. On the other hand, one was tempted to gobble it up, right away! I wonder if I’m making sense! Oh... it was a crazy feeling! Anyway... I remember so distinctly that my sister would share daddy’s bowl while I pecked from my mother’s bowl. If we both had to get a bowl each we would have not been able to eat any dinner that night. But I still recollect that divine taste... the creamy, sweet flavours coating the tongue and slowly sliding down the throat. Ahhh.... absolutely delectable! The chopped nuts would make their presence felt with the crunch. The vermicelli was soft and tasted yummy with the rose syrup. Each spoonful was a delight to the senses!

The word ‘falooda’ always brings back so many happy memories. In college, we would talk about Juice Store ka Falooda, Corner waali shop ka Falooda... till I expanded my vocabulary quite accidentally and learnt that ‘izzat ka falooda’ is a dangerous term. In idiomatic Hindi, falooda is used as a reference to something that has been shredded, which is an allusion to the vermicelli noodles. For example, someone who has suffered disrepute might say that his or her izzat has been turned to falooda which is roughly the same as saying “my reputation is shot”.

Well... well... well... let’s not talk of unpleasant things. How about having some tempting ‘falooda’? After all, this cold dessert travelled all the way from Persia to India, underwent a number of changes during the Mughal rule, to more or less appear and taste as it does today. And, if that’s not available at home, then... surely some ice-cream or Kulfi will do. Today, we can enjoy the luxury of a variety of assorted flavours in the comfort of our own kitchens, thanks to the modern refrigerators.

I’m off to get a helping of the butter scotch flavour I never get tired of. (Pssttt... Don’t tell anyone it’s my third bowlful after dinner tonight. You see I needed the inspiration.) Why don’t you go and get some too. Catch you next week!

Image Courtesy: quora, pik png, vridhi stores, mix faluda center, pinterest