It’s early morning (at least by my standards!), and I can hear the cries of “Puttu, Idiyappam, Puttu, Idiyappam” wafting into my consciousness. Simple breakfast dishes that were available long before they became fashionable and trendy. The great advantage is that these are home-made and delivered piping hot at 6.
30 a.m. The prices are reasonable, a good bargain for saving the hours of toil, for the idiyappam at least.
The puttu seller has a fixed route and specific timings, with select customers. He has graduated from his rusty bicycle to a scooter, but the rest of his paraphernalia is much the same — two large containers with lids. In a nod to modern Chennai, he uses a pair of gloves to pack the idiyappam or puttu into the casseroles or whatever the customer brings.
Market place The puttu seller has not changed his main way of attracting customers: his voice. The average vegetable seller has done so, and at any time of the day one can hear the vendor’s wares advertised over the loudspeaker, with some superb voice modulation and creative copy. There are now mini-trucks that arrive with seasonal fruits and park in a street for some time, waiting for customers, blaring across the street.
It was once so common to have all these sellers and we would step out of the gate and buy the vegetables or fruits, always with a little grumbling and bargaining as standard operating procedure. All that haggling stopped when “departmental” stores came in, and we started shopping .
