And the food they serve is delicious beyond belief!

Calcutta Diary: Most of these are owned and operated by women. All of them provide a safe space for women like me, to have a hot cup of tea, a cigarette, rest a while. Perhaps, the incredible pleasure of sitting by a road and drinking tea with a smoke, and watching the world go by, is not possible for women alone, elsewhere in India.

By Gargi Sen

At almost all street corners in Calcutta, there are small shacks selling tea, cigarettes, biscuits, and at

times, some basic food too, like ghughni – a spicy, chickpea curry, and warm boiled eggs. You might also get bread and butter, or loochi (poori) and alur dom, a dry curry of potatoes. The menu changes daily.

Most of these are owned and operated by women. All of them provide a safe space for women like me, to have a hot cup of tea, a cigarette, rest a while. Perhaps, the incredible pleasure of sitting by a road and drinking tea with a smoke, and watching the world go by, is not possible for women alone, elsewhere in India.

Outside of Calcutta, I have experienced this comfort only in the cafés of Paris and Western Europe. Not even in the US, where a café culture is lacking. For 5 Star prices I can of course access such spaces in other metros of India. But once I have dealt with the fawning waiters, and the astronomical prices, there is little pleasure left.

Calcutta gives me this pleasure for Rs 17. Ten rupees for a single cigarette and Rs 7 for a tiny cup of tea. It would be alright to sit without spending this ridiculously tiny amount also. But these are serious businesses, the last of a possibly vanishing tribe, and it behoves me to pay.

On a long street like Rash Behari Avenue, or SP Mukherji Road, there are several such shacks, one after another, at short distances from each other. The pavements on these streets are redesigned by local vendors to get maximum coverage.

So, on your right would be a row of shacks selling a variety of things. On your left a row of proper shops with doors and steps, sometimes even a guard. Right outside the shops, practically on the steps, sit individual sellers with their wares on a tray. Most of the space on the pavement is claimed by these businesses. A tiny strip is left to navigate and walk. It is extremely crowded. And, yet, it is a safe space to walk through.

Of course, if you display your wealth foolishly you are likely to lose it. Pickpockets abound and are highly skilled. Some of the shops on the right, serve a meal — lunch and dinner. For a princely sum of Rs 50, you will get a humongous plate of rice, curry of lentils, fries, a dry curry of vegetable, and a piece of fish in fish curry.

Let me give you an idea of what is 17 rupees. One US dollar is roughly Rs 80. The math is simple. So, for a little over 50 cents, the Calcutta roadside eateries provide a full, Bengali meal. Fresh, nutritious, delicious. You will have to rub shoulders with the working class, of course. For they are the primary clientele. If you want chicken, you have to pay a little bit more. But most of these tiny shacks stay with the basic menu.

If you saunter towards Gariahat crossing, you will come across the shack of Dada-Boudi where they serve an amazing mutton curry. But mutton is expensive, and, therefore, rare, except in iconic spaces like Dada-Boudi whose clientele arrive from distant places to eat their excellent food. Mostly working men, this clientele is not working class. Women in groups also visit them.

These roadside shops are very basic. A largish working space, a roof of plastic, no walls, and one or two benches. During lunch time there is a crowd of waiting people, and an emptied seat is cleaned faster than you can blink, and the person next in queue settles down.

Before he or she has pulled the chair right, the rice is served. A plate of steaming rice, a small piece of lemon wedge, one green chilly and a tiny mountain of salt make the basic Bengali etiquette. Then comes daal (for those unfamiliar with Indian food, daal is a kind of a soupy lentil).

My mother, travelling through Europe for the first time in the 1970s, when vegetarianism hadn’t made a mark, faced a lot of problems as she didn’t eat beef or pork, and lived on bread and cheese. While on the ferry crossing the channel, she was delighted to see vegetable soup on the menu. But, much to her consternation, she was given boiled masoor daal with butter as soup!

Back to the menu at the shacks. Daal is followed by a dish of fried potato (aloo bhaja) and a vegetable. Finally, the fish is served in a separate, shallow bowl. The rice, daal and vegetables are endless, but not the fried potato (it could also be fried aubergine or potol – pointed gourd), nor the fish.

I have eaten at these places. Very close to my house are 5-6 such shops, all run by women mostly. I go a little early, not only to avoid the lunch-time crowd, but also because I eat all my meals early. I sit rubbing shoulders with the tinker, tailor, cobbler, municipal cleaner.

What is really nice is that no one pays any attention to the other. I am neither made a fuss over or ignored. An eye is kept on all eaters and a second helping is offered generously. Over time I have seen many middle-class women like me eating occasionally at the shacks, or packing the food in the evenings.

Across a popular shack on Southern Avenue, and on carts in the road elsewhere, every afternoon, the government of West Bengal provides food to the needy. The same menu of the shacks is provided there for Rs 5. Most of them are run by women. There are no signages, but from 11am a crowd begins to collect. The food smells delicious but the eaters are so impoverished, that in this city of the poor, they stand out.

In the evenings, food is cooked again in the shacks. And this time roti replaces rice. Daal and vegetables are standard, but cooked afresh, and egg curry makes an appearance and replaces fish. I visit on the days Mafuza, my house help, is on leave, and, tired of ordering, I want hot food. We never cook so many dishes and a change of hand is always nice.

Mafuza has developed as a good cook but the women cooking at the shacks are in a different league altogether. They clean and chop with amazing dexterity and speed, they put 2-3 massive kadais (like woks) on the stove and cook several dishes simultaneously with ferocious concentration. And the food they serve is delicious beyond belief!

However, the economics is depressing. Rice prices vary but even at the lowest it is Rs 30 per kg. Potatoes are Rs 20 and fish is Rs 180-200 per kg. Daal is Rs 100 per kg. Each afternoon, 10 kilos of rice are cooked in batches, 8-10 kilos of fish are consumed. The profit per plate is Rs 5-10. If they sell 100 plates, they might make Rs 500 after one day of hard and continuous labour. After paying the workers — and there are always 2-3 helpers — what is left?

These pavement eateries service the working class, many of who travel to Calcutta daily from the suburbs, small towns and villages nearby, on packed local trains and buses. The service they provide is keeping the wheels of this ‘city of joy’ rolling.