Jhalmuri wala

Every nook, of the Kolkata street,

Every congest end,

at every corner,

Stands a man.

Upholds container,

With a waist band.

 

Smaller boxes attached to a large one,

All ingredients, are added in fun.

One after another,

Chilli, potato, pickle.

Spices are the choices,

Of every individual.

 

Well done, the designer,

the tinned box maker.

On the streets of Bengal,

for decades, it rules,

in buses , in trains.

A packed snack,

when it rains.

 

How delicious to taste!

It lingers on the tongue.

The spicy made puffed rice,

Is the pride of Bengal.

London or New York City.

The street snack has fame.

India and bangladesh

Gave birth to its name.

 

The mooriwala is swamped,

Mingling with a hand,

And adding with the other.

Til the spot is vacant,

grooving in the same motion.

Every passer by,

staring with watery mouth,

until consumed a small portion.