Street Food......The Indian Bhelpuri

a poem by Rita Joyce Singh, India

I am far from refined, no bon vivant
Preferring street food gastro delight
Of Vesuvius man spewing lava
Each mouthful the tongue exploding in fright
The Vesuvius man pushes a cart
Filled with puffed rice, potatoes, chillies
Ordering one plateful is the first part
The rustling up next brings on the willies
He mixes puff rice within his tin can
With gusto of a spin dryer's drum
Like some volcano, rattling does the man
Sends centrifugal force through each puffed crumb
Tosses green chillies and potatoes boiled
Tomatoes, coriander, raw onions
The palates once so tantalized is spoiled
Longs for more inspite of blistering gums
He crunches crisp wheat puris, pours in sauce
Sweet,sour, pungent sauce of tamarind
Hordes vermicelli of chickpea to pause
To offset the fiery heat, let breath unwind
Most savoured is Bhelpuri, packs a punch
Hot and sweet,nose and eyes watering dish
A pushcart Vesuvius snacky munch
True patriotic Indian's 'must eat' wish

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