This evening, I ate bhelpuri out of a can. It came neatly packaged, the chutneys in their plastic puches nestling between the bhel. The puri was a little too delicate, hence powdery. It lacked the crunchiness of the puri one finds in Bombay. Even the bhel felt sanitised, nevertheless, it felt nice to have bhel sitting in a corner of the country where ordering a dosa sometimes becomes a Herculean feat.
Just before that, I spent the afternoon watching a documentary on Dharavi, where tiny workshops manufacture a gamut of products that are sold and consumed globally. It is interesting to note the possibility of some component of my bhel having come from Dharavi. Possibly the plastic. Maybe the preservatives. I'm nowhere near Bombay, but it's presence lingers around my life, in the form of Dharavi. Hmm.
I took a cue from Dharavi and recycled the bhel can. It's now my cutlery holder.