Hallmarks of thela food were the taste, the freshness and the price. For a pittance, the thelawallah tempted you as much with his items as by his call. The mobile ones were prominent at all those places where a snack was most welcome. Since most travelling then was by rail the hawkers’ calls could be heard above the noise of the trains, the announcements and the travellers.

Literally translated, a thela is a pushcart, and a thelawallah is the hawker who sells his wares pushing his cart from street to street or having selected one area, being there every day of the year.

My father recalls, from pre-partition days, vendors selling ‘Muslim pani (water)’ and ‘Hindu pani’ at stations. The water came from one source; the difference was in the utensils. I remember, from railway stations and from railway crossings, especially Wazirabad on G.T. Road, ‘bayl aanday garam’ (hot boiled eggs). The eggs were always hot and always fresh. Salt came in a little ‘puria’ (hand-made sachet of paper). Cholesterol being unheard of in those days, it was taken for granted that at least two eggs per person were eaten.

The thelawallah cooked/made his own food. Thus, a train journey from Lahore to Karachi had a variety of fares offered at our train windows: halwas at Multan, aanday garam, bhuttas, chaats, gol gappas at smaller stations, and rabri at Sukkur and Hyderabad. The joy of travelling was paralleled by the feast offered at each station.

In cities, these vendors came into your street announcing their arrival in a loud voice. The ‘gattawallah’ came around in the afternoon, after school hours. This man carried a long pole on his shoulder. Brightly coloured candy in strips was wrapped at the top of the pole. For two annas (1/8th of a rupee), he would cut off a strip of candy and fashion it into a flower for you. For four annas one got a bird.

Similarly, candy floss was ever popular in smaller cities. Husband recalls ‘barf kay golay’ from smaller towns. This was crushed ice, pressed into an empty shoe-polish container, a stick pushed through this and sweet colourful mixtures poured on top. The gola was turned out of the tin and handed to you melting about as fast as you ate it!

 The thelas I remember the most were outside school. The most popular items were channay ki daal, aamchur - which made you screw your eyes because it was so sour, crisp marunday (the rice ones being my personal favourite). Seasonal were shakarkandi, horse radishes, guavas, kulfi, chaat and gol gappas. Each of these items was affordable and sustained us on the long bus ride home.

In markets, the food and drinks were slightly more elaborate. Quite often, here the thelawallah was always found in one location which then became a landmark. In summer, rau (sugar cane juice), lassi, and a variety of very colourful sherbets were common. Beginning winter and kanji replaced the lassi. Also popular were revrri, gajjak, peanuts kept warm with an earthenware container containing coals placed in the middle of the peanut heap, and in Lahore, singharay (water chestnut).

 At Dhani Ram Road, off Anarkali, my mother recalls one selling gulab jaman. His gulab jamans were to die for, and no visit to Anarkali was complete with its chaat and these for dessert. Similarly, way back in the ‘60s, if you went to Murree, you had to have ‘kayk, passtry and pateess’ from the man who hawked these from the tin trunk he carried on his head. Then there were the vendors who came calling at your doorstep. The fruit wallah had seasonal fruit only. So you got to eat melons, watermelons, mangoes, guavas and oranges to your heart’s content. By the time you were sick of eating the same fruit, the season would change and you started off on a different one.

The vendor selling veggies always had the basic onions, garlic, ginger, tomatoes apart from the seasonal produce. The fish wallah came once a week also. Since they all came in the morning, women had ample time to cook their purchases for the afternoon meal. The icecream wallah came along in the afternoon. Once, I used the very princely sum of Rs10 to buy all the ice cream from one cart.

The kallai wallah (the man who did tin plating), and the man who sharpened knives came on bicycles. In one remote corner of the house, the kallai wallah would dig a hole, light a fire which he kept going with his bellows, and then add some mixtures to our cooking pots, which he would then heat over the fire for them to emerge shining. The man who sharpened knives carried his big wheel on his shoulders, sending out sparks as he polished knives. Fascinating for children who watched from safe distances.

No overheads, recycling of materials, home preparation of very tasty, clean and affordable food, realistic profits, and a sturdy pair of legs, no wonder the thela culture flourished.