Many years ago, my mother took my sister and me to sample the iftar fare along Sachapir Street and Taboot Street in Pune. We feasted on hot mutton samosas on a cold wintry evening. The smoke from the charcoal ovens lent a romance to the air that exists only in the deep recesses of my mind. Every stall was a wonder and our appetite was insatiable. Sadly, I do not remember whether we visited these stalls when I was in school or college. I do not remember whether we went back to the stalls the next year. I just remember…
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