There was a point of time in my childhood when I coveted ice-creams sold in streets. Despite constant allusion to the aspect that they were unhygienic, my fascination did not diminish. I was one of the ‘regular customers’ and a favourite with the vendor. This could be due to the fact that I never complained about the weekly rise in the ice-cream prices. The other customers were some kids, a nanny with a pram and a few old folks. There was a pleasure in the unruly crowd and the banter surrounding the ice-cream cart, which is absent in the high-profile ice-cream parlours.
melts into the soul