Every day at noon, G Thavalingam catches a bus to Karumbukkadai after a meal of rice, rasam, and poriyal. He carries with him precious cargo: freshly-made jow mittai wrapped in plastic paper, mounted on a bamboo pole that he balances on his shoulder. At the top of the pole sits a doll with cymbals for hands. Thavalingam walks to his usual spot in the neighbourhood, and tugs at a rope on the pole that brings the cymbals together: ‘Clang, clang, clang’. And the children would come running.
This has been his routine for three decades: he rarely takes a day off. When I met the 55-year-old 10 years ago at his Puliakulam house, jow mittai had its sheen intact: one could still find men selling them street to street across Tamil Nadu. But they are becoming rarer and rarer. Which is why I went looking for the man one morning.
Today, after two years of unpredictability due to the pandemic, during which several men who sold the candy have either retired or moved on to other jobs, Thavalingam continues to do what he does best. Business has picked up over the past few months and he is a happy man.
