Pepsi on Wheels: A Bell That Froze Time

They say time travel doesn’t exist, but bite into an old-school ice candy — what we proudly called Pepsi in the glorious ’90s — and boom, you’re seven again, barefoot, wild-haired, and sticky-fingered.

Every Sunday, like clockwork, he came — not a superhero, not a magician, but Pepsi Uncle on his humble bicycle. No sirens, no announcements. Just that sweet ting-ting of his bell that could awaken even the grumpiest child from an afternoon nap. I’d race to the compound wall like I was being summoned by destiny. “Uncle! One pista and one mango!” I’d scream before even checking my pocket.

His icebox was a treasure chest. Rows of shimmering colored sticks peeped through crushed ice, each promising a burst of heaven. Cola turned your tongue black, mango left yellow moustaches, and chocolate? Oh, chocolate was the rare diamond — the Titanic of frozen treats.

“Some of the best moments in life are unplanned and under five rupees,” I remember thinking once, slurping joyfully with my cousins while ants feasted on our sticky feet.

Today, we have gelatos that wear tuxedos and sorbets that speak French, but none of them can melt your heart like that icy, humble, desi Pepsi could.

“Childhood isn’t a place, it’s a flavour,” my heart whispers every time I see a roadside freezer.

And isn’t it funny? A cycle, a bell, and some frozen sugar water made Sunday feel like a festival. Simpler times. Fewer choices. Fuller hearts.

Thought to ponder:
What if happiness never grew up — it just melted away, one Pepsi stick at a time?