Re 1.00 = 100 paisa

Not so long ago, I was taught in school the worth of money. The typical Re 1 = 100 paisa conversion deals.I cannot pinpoint the year very precisely, somewhere in the vicinity of 1988-89. But if you know where I stayed during my primary school days, it was the era of Mangala bakery that stood at the corner of the turn to my house. Well, it was year I was taught the Re 1 = 100 paisa mathematics, and the around the same year when Mango Frooti skyrocketed to success in hubli.

This blogs revolves around a little green rectangular carton with a bright yellow mango printed on it, which had a advertising line that was used was ‘Mango Frooti, Fresh and Juicy!’. The Parle Mango Frooti was launched in the mid 80s packaging India's premium fruit into international tetrapack. This was some background.

Now, I love Mangoes. I can eat a dozen of them, chilled and cut. I have always had this weakness for them. And so goes with a pack of chilled Frooti. Coming back to this bakery that I earlier mentioned, it sold Frooti. I thought that this owner was mighty rich as he hoarded these tiny green packs inside a chiller. Well, Hubli was not the place, then, as it is now. A typical small town that you spotted all over India, terribly hot in summer accompanied by load shedding, scorching heat and trickling sweat. The swirling dust devils kept me company during the summer holidays.

On one such seething summer noon, my dad and I were running an errand for my mother. I found myself behind the counter of this bakery, where dad was buying bread. We had to wait as the bread was still being drawn out from the oven. I wanted to ask dad to buy me a Frooti. My a-very-rich-friend has mentioned how her father had bought 10 packs of Frooti for her, so that she could have one each day. She had mentioned that the price was Rs. 5.00.

I deliberated long before asking dad for it. I was calculating, Re 1.00 = 100 paisa. Rs 5 = 500 paisa. To a kid, this was a huge amount. A kid, barely reaching the top of the counter of the bakery, was standing there with her foot raised, so as to catch a good sight of the drink. She was calculating the cost of the drink that she wanted her father to buy for her... She moved her head from the pack to her father, wondering if he noticed her eyeing the pack. Now, when I catch a glimpse of this scene upon my inward eye, my heart goes out for myself. 500 paisa or Rs. 5.00 meant a lot then, to me. Hurriedly, the boy came with the pound of bread and began packing it a news paper. My father was drawing the money from his wallet. I pulled at my dad's sleeve and asked him if he can buy me a frooti. I told him that it will cost 500 paisa. I dont know what happenned after this. But, I walked home, skipping with joy and sipping with glee... I was holding the green pack close to me.

I must have bought frooti a hundreds of times. But, I wonder if it tastes as good as it did, when I had it the first time.