I AM A JAMMUITE: Gossip, Golgappas do have an appetite

Every city has its culture, but in Jammu, it often lives on street corners — around tea stalls, office corridors, and of course, near the golgappa vendor. The crispy delight is just an excuse — the real menu is endless conversation.

Anil Sharma

There are two things that define the everyday rhythm of a true Jammuite — gossip and golgappas. Oddly enough, both come with their own kind of craving. One teases the taste buds, the other stimulates the tongue — not always with facts, but certainly with flair.

Tea stalls and barber shops in our time used to be the real gossip centres.
Those were the days when mobile phones and social media were out of mind and sight. The working of governments, selection of cricket teams, and acumen of sportspersons were discussed with unmatched intensity and insight — or at least, so it seemed.

It wasn’t always necessary to be an active part of these groups. Just standing nearby, silently observing and listening, gave you enough ‘wisdom’ to speak confidently in society.

In rural life, the game of cards served a similar role. It was the real sport of the street. Players played with passion, but the real noise came from the bystanders — guiding moves, predicting hands, and often arguing over which number “he should have thrown.”
That energy, that togetherness — that’s what made it unforgettable.

Every city has its culture, but in Jammu, it often lives on street corners — around tea stalls, office corridors, and of course, near the golgappa vendor. The crispy delight is just an excuse — the real menu is endless conversation. Politics, sports, film, workplace drama — it’s a buffet of topics, and everyone’s got an opinion, whether informed or improvised.

I remember one of my friends, an absolute master of indulgence in any topic, who would never miss a chance to offer his “expert opinion”. Once, we were casually discussing the dribbling skills of Indian hockey legend Pargat Singh, admiring the speed and precision with which he maneuvered the ball. As expected, our friend joined in with great authority — but soon steered the discussion towards Maradona.

With full confidence, he declared, “You know, Maradona used to dribble the ball with a hockey stick… such was his control!”

We all paused. Confused, amused, and trying not to laugh. That’s when we realised — logic may fail, but confidence never does in our golgappa gossip circles.

Because here, insight is optional — but participation is compulsory.

Gossip, like golgappa water, comes in many flavours: sweet, spicy, tangy, even bitter. But it always brings people together. The taste lingers, as does the laughter. Somewhere between the third golgappa and a fourth-hand rumour, connections are made — fleeting, yet strangely fulfilling.

You may not remember what was said, but you’ll always remember the fun you had.

Yes, gossip and golgappas do have an appetite — and more often than not, it’s us they feast on.

Maza lena hai to maskari karni padegi — apne liye nahin to auron ke liye.
Swad lena hai to jaban mein chatpata pan hona hi chahiy

“To enjoy life, you must learn to jest — if not for yourself, then at least for others.
“And to truly savour the flavour, there must be a bit of spice in your tongue and spirit.”