Gupta Bhel Farsan

We’ve been here at Kothrud 1 for a good while now. Every morning starts about the same, getting the bags of puffed rice ready and making sure the chutneys are ground up right. It gets a bit loud in the afternoons when the schools let out and everyone wants a snack. The floor usually has some bits of farsan dropped on it by four o'clock, but that’s just how it goes when things get busy. We don't have fancy chairs or anything, just the usual benches where people sit and talk while they eat. My hands are usually stained a bit yellow from the turmeric by the time I head home. It's not a big place, just enough room for the counters and the storage bins in the back. Sometimes the fan makes a clicking noise that I keep meaning to fix but never quite get around to. People know where we are, right near the main path, so we see the same faces every single day. We don't do anything special, just keep the jars filled and try to keep up with the orders when the evening rush starts. It’s mostly just us working behind the counter, trying to remember who wanted extra onions and who wanted none at all. The air smells like toasted peanuts and fried dough most of the time. We just open the shutters, do the work, and close up when the containers are empty.