Growing up at a distance drivable to the himalayas always called for a trip in the summers. While mangoes and Lychees were being dug in, trips were being planned to hole out of the heat in Delhi. An enroute-break at a random dhaba was always non-negotiable.
I have always particularly loved the smell of this place. The smell of water being sprinkled on warm mud has an uncanny resemblance to my love for the petrichor-ic essence. Of Course that is not the only aroma playing up though. It’s ultimately the smell of the food that dominates, thanks to the ever burning tandoor that rests in the kitchen.