City Food – Inter-Generational Sherbet Stall, Turkman Gate
A rose-tinted landmark.
[Text and photos by Mayank Austen Soofi]
Things change with time. Things don’t change with time. One March afternoon, Muhammed Rafi was sitting at his rose sherbet stall beside the centuries-old Turkman Gate. He had reopened his kiosk for the forthcoming summer just a week back.
Six years later, this March afternoon, Muhammed Salman is sitting at his rose sherbet stall beside the centuries-old Turkman Gate. He reopened his kiosk for the forthcoming summer just a week back.
Same stall, different stall owners, linked to each other by blood. Salman is Rafi’s son. Rafi lies buried in Dilli Gate Qabristan. “Abbu was 56, he died suddenly on 30 October, 2018.” Salman, then 19, was obliged to take over the father’s establishment.
Parked at the point where New Delhi meets Old Delhi, the stall is like the season’s dependable alarm clock heralding the arrival of the dreaded Delhi summer. It stays shut during the winter. The late Rafi had founded the stall more than 40 years ago. The sherbet cart, then and now, consists of Rooh Afza syrup bottles, stacks of plastic glasses, bowls to keep small change, a large strainer and a huge pan filled with uneven chunks of ice floating in the scarlet-hued sherbet—a sweet-toned drink too refreshing, too historical. Introduced in Old Delhi’s Lal Kuan in 1907 as a potion for heat stroke by an enterprising herb shop owner, Rooh Afza’s Persian name means “one that enhances the spirit and uplifts the soul.” The sherbet is woven so intricately into the fabric of Walled City life that its bottles can be sighted in every household pantry. (Many of the stall’s regulars though have no household, such as daily-wage laborers and rickshaw pullers.)
As is often the case when one fondly thinks of times past, this same stall acquires a rose-tinted imagery on summoning the remembrances of its former owner. Rafi’s bearded face exuded a steady tranquility, unfazed by the day’s heat and dust. Young Salman too is as friendly, but he is still finding his footing in the world. Restless and enterprising, he recently launched a shoe stall next to his father’s legacy. “The sherbet sells only from March to October.. people need joote throughout the year.”
He now ladles out the drink into a glass. The chilling freshness instantly courses through the body, resuscitating the weary rooh. You feel grateful to Salman, and to his father, Rafi.
Sherbet of time
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