Monday, 29 August 2011

I die,u die,we all die for a vadai

Come 11 o clock in the morning and there is a bee line for a famous tea stall on the main road of our village.

The tea walla and his wife, with the help of an old lady who sits at the manual stone grinder , run the shop which makes the crisp vadais.

They make a variety of them all pulses and onions and chillie, deep fried in oil.

My dad wished for them this morning, leaping for this rare request, i went away, and seeing me the pair made some out of the way preparations to fill my old mans orders.

My man was just getting into the curd rice , and seeing me come late, knew i had got his requests, he had two of them, seeing them hot and crisp, he gave his reward of a warm smile.

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