Jhalmuri with chicken wings and eggs? Gulistan’s biriyani-style snack

If you ever happen to be in Gulistan, you will agree that it's less of a place and more of a riot! Here, hawkers holler like auctioneers, rickshaws weave in and out like they have a personal vendetta against traffic; even the buses roar through like they are on a demolition derby mission. And the people — oh, the people — they spill out from every side street and alleyway, filling the air with a sense of unrelenting motion, like the extras in a scene from a zombie movie.

Photo: Jannatul Bushra

The country's largest mosque and a stadium sit awkwardly side by side, watching it all together! Because Gulistan does not just demand your attention, it sweeps you up and carries you along, whether you are ready or not. And right in the middle of this madness, there's a man who's been standing his ground for more than three decades, Shascchu Mama. Full name: Mohammad Shascchu Mia.

While the world around him is in fast-forward, Shascchu is on pause, mixing muri (puffed rice) like a magician. But this is not just any muri; his version is a love letter to biriyani — aromatic, spicy, and full of hidden surprises.

Photo: Jannatul Bushra

For almost 35 years, Shascchu Mama has been holding court at this very spot every evening (except on Fridays) serving up his legendary jhalmuri and haleem to anyone lucky enough to stumble upon him. His hands move with the speed and precision of a magician, tossing puffed rice, chopped cucumber, tomatoes, green chillies, onions, secret masalas, and — wait for it — chunks of chicken wings, eggs, and even whole pieces of spicy chicken into a bowl. The result? A jhalmuri that, as many swear, smells and tastes no less than biriyani!

So, hearing "jhalmuri and haleem", we scanned his tiny table, hunting for that comforting bowl of haleem — only to be disappointed. Sensing our confusion, Mama grinned and quipped, "A hot bowl of haleem is only for winter, Mama!"

Photo: Jannatul Bushra

It turns out, this culinary wizard switches from his biriyani-inspired jhalmuri to rich, warm haleem as the seasons shift. So, in winter, he is a haleem maestro!

Shascchu Mia's story reads like a page out of Dhaka's own urban folklore. Born in Brahmanbaria, he arrived in Dhaka as a seven-year-old, holding onto the shirt of his maternal uncle, who worked as a dishwasher in Gulistan's Stadium Market. That was in the early '80s. The kid from the countryside soon found himself scrubbing plates, running errands, and learning the ropes of Dhaka's street hustle. After years of washing, waiting, and watching, he took a leap into selling cholabut, ghugni, haleem, biriyani, you name it.

Then came the flood of 1988, the one that washed away much of Dhaka, including Shascchu's little home in Islambagh, Old Dhaka. The family moved to Tikatuli, but Shascchu's culinary dreams stayed anchored at the Stadium Market.

Over the years, he experimented, blending what he knew from biriyani pots and haleem cauldrons into his jhalmuri. A handful of this, a sprinkle of that until what emerged was a fusion so bold it had people stopping in their tracks.

Photo: Jannatul Bushra

"I know my spices better than most chefs," Shascchu declares. "I learned by cooking with my hands, feeding thousands, day after day. My wife helps me, and my son helps me. We are a family business."

It's a family affair, indeed. Behind the small table where he does his magic, you'll find his wife instructing him with military precision and his son collecting money and answering queries from office-goers, vloggers, and the occasional curious journalists like us.

If you ask around, you will hear stories. Like Rasel Mahmud, a Stadium Market worker for over a decade and seemingly a fan of Shascchu Mama, who says, "Mama has magic in his hands. I've seen people come from all over — Gulshan, Dhanmondi, even YouTube vloggers to appreciate his muri and haleem. We market folks; we know them best. We see the crowds."

Photo: Jannatul Bushra

And there are crowds, indeed. Office workers, shoppers, rickshaw pullers, tourists, and even a few wide-eyed influencers -- all trying to capture that perfect foodie moment. Shascchu smiles at them all, serving up heaping bowls of muribharta.

As the city lights flicker on and the call to prayer echoes from Baitul Mukarram, Shascchu Mama keeps on mixing, serving, and smiling — a little scoop of this, a pinch of that, a wink here, a smile there — all right in front of the six-number gate of Baitul Mukarram Mosque's market. His prices start at Tk 30, but for those who want it all — the egg, the chicken, the spice, the story — it's Tk 120 for the special!