Memories of good old ‘sweet’ times

WEAVING our way through the milling crowds in New Delhi’s Karol Bagh market, my daughter and I, after a long walk and some shopping, decided that enough was enough. We had picked up what we wanted, so there was no point in simply roaming amidst a sea of humanity. We crossed the road.

Just then I spotted a little bakery. Let’s check it out, I told her impulsively and stepped inside to find scrumptious-looking cakes, cookies and the usual stuff that bakeries display in glass cases.

Amidst all the goodies, I spotted a big bottle filled with black sweets wrapped nicely in cellophane. Curiosity got the better of me. Are those stickjaws, I asked the middle-aged attendant, who smiled and answered in the affirmative. I couldn’t believe I was seeing those toffees after so many years. To be honest, I began salivating mildly and was engulfed in a wave of nostalgia.

Those sweet, sticky jaw-breakers were our favourite toffees during schooldays in Bangalore. They were sold in our school canteen as well as in certain shops, long before Mars, Snickers, Bounty, Toblerone and such fancy foreign chocolates invaded our stores.

Made of jaggery and peanuts, the dark toffees had a unique taste. Given that they were hard and sticky, one could chew them for quite a while. It used to cost five paise each, if memory serves me right.

Often, we went into class warily chewing the toffee, only to be caught by an eagle-eyed teacher, who ordered us to spit it out, with a stern warning to return to the classroom immediately. That warning became imperative because some of us took our own sweet time to finish the toffee and get back!

I must have last chomped on stickjaws at school. Over the years, the toffee occasionally came up in conversations with buddies of my generation when we sauntered down memory lane.

Also, we wondered if shops or school canteens in Bangalore still sold the home-made toffees and some other cookies and pastries. Or, whether, like some other eatables, they had just disappeared to become part of the city’s culinary history?

When I told the shop attendant to pack 250 gm of those toffees, he asked, “Sir, are you sure you want that much?” “Indeed,” I replied, wondering why he was surprised.

He explained that customers picked up just a handful, and that too rarely; and I was the first to buy such a big quantity.

Then as we walked out, my daughter asked, “Dad, aren’t those a bit too much?” It’s not all for us, I assured her, adding that some of my old buddies would get a taste of their favourite toffee and relive the good old ‘sweet’ times.

Musings