The breadbox wala of Shimla and cream rolls

Life in the hills was simple when I was a child. Ensconced in the rugged terrains of Shimla, our house had a breathtaking view of the pristine white clouds, swooping down on the surrounding hillocks and terraced lands. The topography was such that we had to climb up and down a hill to reach the nearest shops. Come rain and snow, these tuck shops were our source of essential items. The blissful calm we experienced was matchless as compared to the rushed pace of modern life.

Sometimes, the market used to come to our doorstep in the form of vendors. Most of them were strong, resilient hill men, who bravely carried their merchandise on their heads and back. Some brought brightly woven shawls and other woollens. The women in the neighbourhood would gather to collectively strike a bargain and at the end of it, each household had a child wearing a similar sweater. We used to be so happy, and never ever, cringed at the thought of someone else wearing the same dress.

Then there was the sabziwala (vegetable vendor), who brought the best of greens in his humble basket. The fresh vegetables that they picked up straight from the farm and delivered the same day are a tad difficult to find nowadays.

Our most-awaited visitor, and the one who stole our hearts, was the breadbox wala. Much like the quintessential Kabuliwala, he was a favourite among my ilk, for the goodies he carried. Our hearts would skip a beat when we heard the tinkling sound of the handle on his aluminium box. That was his typical sound of arrival.

We would be drooling even before he opened his magical trunk. It contained an assortment of atta (wheat flour) biscuits, cakes, pastries, usually the pineapple-flavoured ones, big loaves of bread, small loaves of bread, other confectionary, and my all-time favourite, the cream roll. We hadn’t heard of the baguette, brown bread, banana bread or the bread sticks of today. Our simple bread brought us more joy than all these varieties put together.

Our mothers would check us from having too many sugary treats. But we would ardently haggle with them and try to buy as many items as we could. At times, our smart moms would put a condition before us. The deal was that if we studied well throughout the week, we would have an audience with the breadbox wala on Sunday. So, we literally had to earn our bread.

Decades later, I still long for that cream roll, if only I could spot that breadbox wala once again. Whenever we go for a sweet relish, my children dig into different kinds of cakes, while I settle for the cream roll. They wonder at my penchant for this humble sweet. Perhaps, one day they will understand my sentimental connection to it.

THE DEAL WAS IF WE STUDIED WELL THROUGHOUT THE WEEK, WE WOULD HAVE AN AUDIENCE WITH THE BREADBOX WALA ON SUNDAY