A Taste of the City

August 5, 2009 – 6:30 PM

Jadavpur University, Kolkata – Gate No. 2

The sun had begun its descent, casting a warm amber glow over the streets of Jadavpur as Aritra and Katherine stepped through Gate No. 2. The air was thick with the scent of sizzling oil, charred spices, and freshly brewed tea, wafting from the row of nearly fifty food stalls that lined the stretch near the 8B bus stand. The place was bustling, teeming with students from Jadavpur University, KPC Medical College, and other nearby institutions, all gathered to refuel after long, grueling hours of lectures and practicals.

Katherine, still adjusting to the pace of her first day, exhaled deeply, her shoulders visibly relaxing for the first time since the morning. The day had been nothing short of exhausting—from the bewildering informality of Jadavpur to the mental rigor of Engineering Drawing. She had spent hours bending over sheets, sketching technical diagrams, and trying to keep up with the professor's rapid explanations. Though she was used to pressure, this was a different kind, one that didn't rely on decorum or polished perfection but rather raw intelligence and persistence.

Aritra walked beside her, unfazed by the long day, hands casually tucked into his pockets. He had grown accustomed to the rhythm of JU's academic grind, but he could tell that Katherine was still processing it all.

As they moved past the food stalls, she suddenly reached out, her fingertip lightly brushing against Aritra's hand. He turned his head slightly, his gaze meeting hers. She didn't say anything, just tilted her head toward the chaotic row of stalls, her eyes shining with curiosity.

"You want to try it?" he asked, smirking.

Katherine gave a small nod. "It looks... lively. And I'm starving."

Aritra chuckled. "Hope you can handle spice. This isn't your usual fine dining."

She raised an eyebrow. "How bad could it be?"

They wove through the dense crowd, making their way to a stall where a man with a white apron and a towel draped over his shoulder expertly flipped a batch of egg-chicken rolls on a massive tawa. The air was rich with the scent of freshly cooked parathas, smoky eggs, and the deep char of marinated chicken being tossed in spices.

"Two rolls," Aritra ordered, exchanging a knowing glance with the vendor, who grinned and began assembling them with swift, practiced hands. A fried egg was cracked directly onto the sizzling paratha, cooked until crisp at the edges, then layered with tender chicken, onions, green chilies, and a generous smear of fiery red chutney.

Katherine accepted hers hesitantly, observing its greasy yet enticing exterior before taking a bite. The first taste was divine—the flaky paratha giving way to the succulent, smoky chicken, the crisp onions adding a refreshing bite, and then—

Fire.

Her throat burned.

Her eyes widened as the heat spread across her tongue, and she coughed, covering her mouth as she struggled to swallow. Aritra, already chewing on his own, barely contained his laughter.

"Spicier than you expected?" he teased, watching as she frantically reached for the bottle of cold water on the stall's counter, downing half of it in one go.

Katherine shot him a murderous glare, her face flushed from the heat. "You could have warned me!"

He smirked. "Where's the fun in that?"

She took a deep breath, fanning her face slightly. "I can't believe people eat this every day without dying."

Aritra chuckled. "You get used to it. If you survive today, maybe I'll let you try phuchka next."

Katherine narrowed her eyes. "I feel like that's a trap."

"Only one way to find out."

After managing to finish their rolls—Katherine with significantly more effort than Aritra—they decided to explore further. This time, Aritra led her toward a stall where a man expertly tossed egg-chicken chowmein in a large wok over a blazing flame. The sizzle of oil, the rhythmic clatter of the spatula against the pan, and the tantalizing aroma of stir-fried noodles filled the air. This wasn't restaurant chowmein—this was pure street-style indulgence. The noodles sizzled as he added soy sauce, chili flakes, and a final sprinkle of spring onions.

"This," Aritra said, motioning toward the sizzling wok, "is Kolkata's street-style egg-chicken chowmein. Best enjoyed straight off the pan."

Katherine raised an eyebrow. "And this isn't going to burn my tongue off?"

He smirked. "No guarantees."

The vendor handed them two steaming plates of chowmein, garnished with thinly sliced spring onions, crunchy fried eggs, and a sprinkle of crushed chili flakes. The sheer vibrancy of colors and textures made it impossible to resist. Katherine picked up a forkful cautiously, twirling the noodles before taking a hesitant bite. The first burst of flavors hit her—the deep umami of soy sauce, the rich smokiness of stir-fried egg, the crunch of cabbage, and the surprising heat from green chilies hidden between the strands. The mix of flavors—savory, slightly spicy, with a hint of sweetness from the caramelized onions—hit her tongue instantly.

The moment she bit down, a flood of flavors exploded—crispy, tangy, spicy, sour, all at once. Her eyes widened in shock, but this time, not from unbearable heat.

"Okay, that's... ridiculously good," she admitted after swallowing, her eyes widening slightly. "How do they make it taste better than a five-star restaurant's?"

Aritra grinned. "Told you."

They continued wandering through the stalls, sampling ghugni chaat, telebhaja, and a small clay cup of mishti doi, Katherine's palate slowly adjusting to the range of flavors Kolkata had to offer. The once intimidating chaos of the 8B market now felt oddly inviting, a place where students from every background gathered for the simple joy of food after a long day.

As they finally began their walk back home, the cool evening air settling around them, Katherine let out a satisfied sigh. "I'll admit, that was... an experience."

Aritra chuckled. "And now you've officially survived your first taste of Kolkata street food."

She nudged him lightly. "Barely. I think I lost half my taste buds to that roll."

He smirked but didn't respond, letting the comfortable silence stretch between them as they made their way back to his house. The walk was quiet, the streets growing less crowded as they moved deeper into Jadavpur's quieter residential lanes.

As soon as they arrived home, Aritra loosened his shirt collar and grabbed his phone, dialing a number as he sat down on the living room couch.

"Aritra leaned back, dialing a number as he sat down on the living room couch. "Ishita, come to my house tomorrow morning. We have things to discuss.""

Katherine, watching him from across the room, raised an eyebrow. "Business again?"

Aritra glanced at her briefly before nodding. "Always."

She didn't push further. Instead, she leaned back against the armrest of the couch, exhaling deeply.

"I think I need another nap before I start processing today."

Aritra smirked. "Go ahead. Just be ready for tomorrow."

As she closed her eyes, letting exhaustion take over, she realized something unexpected—for all the chaos, the spice, and the unfamiliarity of this city, something about it felt real in a way she wasn't used to.

And for the first time since arriving, she didn't mind it.

To be continued…