The Posting
We were living in Delhi in 2010, when we found out that my father’s new posting was to Tezpur, Assam. My parents had been posted to Assam twice before, to Dinjan and Guwahati, and hence knew what to expect. A quiet, scenic little town with bountiful lush greenery around.
Although I had grown up by now, and had stayed in a PG during papa’s last posting, this time I was going to accompany them. My graduation in Medical Biotechnology had just gotten over, and I was looking to do an internship in a laboratory now. Tezpur had a DRDO laboratory where I applied for an internship, and thankfully, got it.
Tezpur— Hues of Calm
We were living in Delhi in 2010, when we found out that my father’s new posting was to Tezpur, Assam. My parents had been posted to Assam twice before, to Dinjan and Guwahati, and hence knew what to expect. A quiet, scenic little town with bountiful lush greenery around.
Although I had grown up by now, and had stayed in a PG during papa’s last posting, this time I was going to accompany them. My graduation in Medical Biotechnology had just gotten over, and I was looking to do an internship in a laboratory now. Tezpur had a DRDO laboratory where I applied for an internship, and thankfully, got it.
So I shifted to Tezpur with papa, mummy and our pet dog Goofy. And Tezpur turned out to be exactly as we expected. Peaceful with wide open spaces. Dark green coloured trees, primarily consisting of supari and banana trees. Even the rice fields of Tezpur had the characteristic green color of Assam. This green glows a little, as if lit up by a more benevolent sun, and it has shades of blue intermixed with it. As if the sky couldn’t resist touching the beautiful land of Assam.
This green is a strange hue of calm.
Calm. That’s how I remember our part of Tezpur. Of course, during our weekly visits to the heart of the city, we would encounter regular traffic and the agglomeration of shops and markets. It’s funny, but these gave me nostalgic feelings of Delhi— a place I had lived in for 13+ years.
A Small Metallic Bell
The campus we lived in was particularly quiet. It was only in the mornings that one could hear the quiet bustle of officers in blue leaving for office. But after that particular hour in the morning, the roads were empty and quiet.
A welcome break to this quiet was the pleasant ringing of a bell three times a week. At first, I didn’t realise what it was. But one day, my father took me and Goofy downstairs from our house on the first floor and I saw the most idyllic sight ever.
An Assamese man with crinkling kind eyes smiled at us. In his hand was a copper-coloured metal bell whose notes had brought us downstairs. Next to the man stood a small cart. The cart had a wooden base and was completely covered with a thin steel dome. The opaque dome protected whatever was inside the cart both from the rain and sun of Assam, as well as prying eyes.
Upon Papa’s query of what he had got today, he grinned and opened the steel dome from the back.
Lo and behold— it was a mobile bakery!
A Traveling Bakery
The warm and sweet scent of freshly baked goods suffused my senses. Peering inside in pure ecstacy, I caught a glimpse of beautiful homely looking baked goods. There were muffins, jam rolls, breads and patties. You name it, and it was there.
Strangely, the mobile bakery did not have any heavily creamy goods— which was such a relief because it made it much more idyllic and homely. And genuine. Just like Assam itself.
Papa got a plain tea cake and aloo patties packed for us. The baker man deftly packed them in brown baking paper, making the goods look even more rustic and homely.
It’s been ten years, but I can still taste the cake and the aloo patties in my mouth. The cake was super soft and spongy, and had a typically homemade taste to it. It was like eating a very soft but spongy cloud, and letting the flavours of caramelized sugar and vanilla imbue your taste buds. But apart from the phenomenal taste, what made the cake special was how moist it was.
The aloo patties, on the other hand, had a characteristic flaky crust and a soft chewy interior of spicy potato. The potato was flavoured with mustard seeds and curry leaves, and in their saltiness, were a perfect compliment to the cake.
And so, throughout the rest of our stay at Tezpur, Goofy and I would eagerly wait to hear a bell at 1 pm twice a week. And upon hearing its mellifluous notes, we would rush outside. Goofy, to explore the garden, and I, to explore the baked goods. The baker man would always be standing there, smiling with his tiny metal bell. I’d watch enraptured, as he opened his cart, and waited for the aroma of freshly baked goods to suffuse me.
Everytime the bakerman came downstairs, I tried something new. Sometimes it was a jam roll, and sometimes a cream roll. But what never changed was the plain vanilla tea cake wrapped in baking paper, and spicy aloo patties waiting to tingle our senses.
Somethings are never meant to change.
Ten years later, I hope to goodness the mobile bakery of Tezpur still hasn’t.
