Bun Maska & Irani Chai: An Unforgettable Love Story
We share the heartwarming journey of nostalgia through Bun Maska and Irani Chai, as the author reminisces about childhood memories and the soulful connection between food and emotions. A delectable blend of flavours and nostalgia awaits!
From the title, many of you might have conjured up an image of Bun Maska. For me, it was my very first encounter. But before I delve deeper into it, let me share a marvellous piece by the legendary Gulzar Sahab.
“Dard halka hain saans bhari hain
Jiye jane ki rasm bhari hain
Aapke baad har ghadi
Humne aap ke saath hi guzari hai.”
(Gulzar)
In this silicon era, where two-legged rodents scurry in their relentless pursuit of progress, stealing a moment to pause feels akin to a long-confined prisoner of Bastille suddenly let free. When I managed to wrest some precious time from life’s frenetic schedule, I packed my bags and headed for the city of Nizams. Without veering into stereotypes, let me confess that Bengalees, when they meet, inevitably chew over certain shared passions: food, films, books, travel, politics—and for many, cricket. While politics and cricket might not feature prominently on my list, the first four categories undoubtedly do (though not always in the same order).
On the 25th of December, amidst the winter’s crisp embrace, I visited Hassan Cafe with a couple of relatives. While my relatives were busy ordering wraps and burgers, my eyes wandered across the menu card and stumbled over two magical words that stirred something deep within me: Bun Maska and Irani Chai. As a free beverage, the chai was a tempting bonus, but it was the bun maska that completely captured my heart. The name alone was enough to make my heart skip a beat and evoke a visceral tug, a sweet ache of memory that catapulted me back to my childhood.
Without any thought, I immediately placed an order for a plate of bun maska. As I sank my teeth into the soft, butter-smeared bun, it was as if the years melted away in my mouth. Each bite was a portal, transporting me back to indolent afternoons spent in the comforting warmth of my grandmother’s hearth, where time lost its motion. The scent of butter mingled with freshly brewed tea, the sound of laughter echoing through the house, and the warmth of familial love – all of those refreshing moments came rushing back. Food, I realized in that moment, is not merely a source of sustenance for the body; it is an elixir for the soul, a gustatory conduit that connects us to our bygone days.
Bun maska was my first gustatory love, a romance that began in the unassuming street side eateries and my grandmom’s humble kitchen. Over the years, gliding through the tides of life, this beloved companion had somehow receded into the shadows of my mind, replaced by fancier and more cosmopolitan choices. Yet, the love remained dormant, patiently awaiting a reunion. And when it finally arrived, it was like meeting an old flame after years of separation! It re-ushered a wave of familiarity, the bittersweet nostalgia, and the sense of slipping back into a rhythm that had never really left me.
We are connected to food in a certain unique and intimate way. Food is more than an assortment of tastes and flavours; It is a vessel of memories, containing within it the laughter, tears, and stories of days that are no more. Every time we encounter these culinary anchors, it is like opening a dusty photo album where each bite flips a page to reveal a snapshot of our younger selves. Evidently the taste of bun maska transported me back to carefree Sunday mornings, when my father would return from the market with fresh, downy buns with a lavish spread of butter, and we would sit together and relish these with steaming cups of tea. Those were the moments of innocuous joy, unadulterated by the complexities of adulthood.
Food, in its purest form, is love. It is a metaphorical love story—one that transcends time and space. When we meet our long-lost culinary loves, we do not merely eat; we savor memories, we relive emotions, we reconnect with parts of ourselves we thought we had lost. Bun maska, for me, is not just a food item; it is a log bridge to my roots, a reminder of who I was and where I hailed from. It is a warm teddy hug from my younger self, whispering into my adult ears that no matter how far I had travelled, home and childhood is just a buttery bite away.
The bun maska along with aromatic Irani chai, with its delicate balance of sweetness and strength, felt like a warm conversation that I had with an old friend long back but just sprang to life as soon as we met. In a world, where days blur into nights and moments slip through our fingers like grains of sand, it is these fleeting reunions that ground us. They remind us that while we may outgrow people, places, or even versions of ourselves, the love we hold for certain things-a song, a scent, a taste – remains indelible. And when we find our way back to them, it is like coming home.
So, here is a toast to bun maska and Irani chai, and to all the gustatory love laden moments that have snuggled into the motley canvas of our lives: may we never lose the appetite for savouring not just food, but the memories and emotions they carry within. As the taste lingered and memories flooded in, it felt as though the heart itself sought the solace of days long past, yearning for the simplicity and beauty of moments that once defined life…
“Dil dhoondta hai phir wahi fursat ke raat din
Baithe rahein tasavvur-e-
jaana kiye huye.”
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