"I love this job, and work hard for this money—why should I hide it?"

The air carries the scent of mud mixed with fresh spices. Outside a tiny makeshift stall, three burlap sacks overflow with pahadi produce.

A woman picks up a piece of gethi (air potatoes) and asks, “Yeh kya hai?” An elderly man inquires about kyol (crêpe ginger). Giggling kids pass around an oddly-shaped gethi.

Thirty-seven-year-old Chandrakant Pant, who is running the stall with his wife, Puja Pant, calmly handles the flood of queries. “I’m here to answer questions,” he says with a gentle smile. “If someone leaves knowing how to cook or heal with an ingredient from western Himalayas, I feel fulfilled.”

It’s his first day at the nine-day-long annual Uttarayani Kautik Mela held in Haldwani, Uttarakhand, where Pant has been residing for the last few years. Originally from Lohaghat village, he’s spent the past two decades driving across Uttarakhand and Uttar Pradesh in a mini-truck carrying a variety of hilly edibles—pickles, jams, rajma, lentils, spices, and vegetables.

At 17, Chandrakant began this job with a salary of ₹3,000 per month. It has grown to over ₹16,000 now. “I love this job, and work hard for this money—why should I hide it?” he says proudly.

Years of braving hilly terrains and pot-holed plains have revealed the job’s challenges. When there were no online deliveries, Chandrakant recalls how people would eagerly wait for mobile shops, especially in areas with limited connectivity. “The long time spent away from my family is hard,” he admits.

It will be 13 years since his marriage this April. He speaks proudly of his wife. “She doesn’t travel but [looks after packaging and operations], and contributes to the family income.”

“Few people know that rajma from different places tastes different. Harsil rajma has a nuttier flavour than Munsiyari rajma as the soil and climate influence the taste,” says Chandrakant.

He finds satisfaction in sharing his family’s ancestral knowledge of crops and medicinal plants from daily-wage farming. As he hands the elderly man a piece of kyol, his eyes gleam. “Try it in soup,” he insists, explaining how it soothes coughs and colds, even sharing a simple recipe. “You’ll remember the taste.”