A weekly market is one that takes place on a fixed day of the week at a specific location. Sellers bring their goods and sell them there. In places where there aren’t many shops, or where going to such shops is inconvenient or expensive, such markets serve as a much-needed solution. In a village’s economy, the weekly market plays a very important role.
Our village is quite small. Apart from one grocery shop, you can’t get much of anything there. So, the alternative was the weekly Friday market in the main town of our taluka. As a child, I didn’t really understand what a weekly market was — especially for us kids growing up in the city.
Once, grandma gave me and my brother ₹100 and asked us to go to the market and bring back vegetables and some other household items. I was overjoyed — not because of the vegetables, of course, but because I had only one thing in mind: the hot, spicy, and flavorful misal (a local Maharashtrian dish). Even today, misal remains my all-time favorite. In fact, when I visit my native place during a 10-day vacation, I end up eating misal on at least 9 of those days. It’s a fixed ritual now.
That first trip to the market — I still remember. We took the morning ST (State Transport) bus. As soon as we got down at the ST stand, we headed straight to the old hotel next to the Maruti temple. I still drool when I remember that spicy, perfectly portioned misal. After polishing it off, we sipped on some hot tea and headed to the market.
We bought the vegetables grandma had asked for from the vendor under the old peepal tree — the one grandma had mentioned. Then, with the leftover money, we enjoyed a glass of lassi before catching the afternoon ST bus home.
When we got home, grandma asked what all we had done. I told her everything — starting with what we ate and then where we bought the vegetables. That’s when she gave me a classic “pan-utara” (a playful scolding laced with affection). She said,
“Child, the market is held near the Harishchandra temple, and you bought vegetables from that overpriced vendor near the platform — the one who always sweetly curses people!”
That’s when it hit me — I had ignored the actual crowded Friday weekly market and gone straight to the wrong spot for veggies… all because of misal! I laughed… and in my mind, the image of that misal flashed again.
Even today, whenever I see a weekly market, I’m filled with a deep, warm memory — of my grandma… and our little village’s bustling market.
That’s why misal is not just a dish for me — it’s an emotion. A memory. A bond…
Miss you Aajji…