In the Academy Award-nominated film Lion, a five-year-old Indian boy named Saroo sees the sweet, sticky Indian dessert, jalebi, at a street market. Moments later, he gets lost, takes a train ride to Kolkata by chance, and eventually lands in an orphanage from where he is adopted by an Australian couple. Years later, Saroo, happens upon a plate of the funnel cake-like confectionery, which triggers memories of India and his first family. The food memory prompts Saroo to embark on a quest to find them.
It’s not surprising that encountering the treat triggers Saroo’s memory: jalebi is India’s most beloved sweets. But in fact, it isn’t even truly of South Asian origin. By most historical accounts, jalebi is of West Asian provenance and made its way to the subcontinent in the 14th or 15th century via trade. The oldest recipe for the precursor to jalebi, the zalabiya, an ancient pastry known by different names across Asia—zalabiya in Arabia, mushabbak in Levant, zulbia in Iran, and jalebi on both the Indian subcontinent and in Afghanistan—appears in a 10th-century Baghdadi cookbook, Kitab-al-Tabikh. The sweet was distributed to the poor during the Islamic holy month of Ramadan. “Its meaning has [since] drifted in several directions,” said food scholar Darra Goldstein in The Oxford Companion to Sugar and Sweets.
But jalebi has found its most ardent devotees in South Asia, where it’s a wildly popular street food often served on holidays and celebrations. Generally, a jalebi is made by extruding a thin batter of flour or lentils into hot oil to form large spirals that are later soaked in warm sugar syrup. The jalebi most familiar to Western food lovers, and as seen in Lion, are made of maida flour—a finely milled wheat flour—and Bengal gram flour—a flour milled from chickpeas—drenched in a syrup usually flavored with cardamom and saffron. Other ingredients may include lime juice or sour yogurt for tang, or rose water for a floral note. One regional variation, called cheeni mittai, is “made using rice flour, urad dal [split black gram] and powdered cardamom... deep-fried in swirl shapes, and soaked in three kinds of sugar syrups (cane sugar, cane jaggery and palm sugar), one after the other,” said Awanthi Vardaraj in Paste magazine. Another variety, imartee, is also made with urad dal instead of flour, but is spun into geometric swirls around a center instead of into a lattice.
A perfect jalebi is a mish-mash of textures—crispy on the outside and chewy on the inside—and oozes sticky syrup with every bite. It’s mesmerizing to watch a jalebi-wallah (jalebi maker) swirl and whirl smooth batter into the hot oil, deftly flipping the dessert over until it has cooked through. My recommendation? Garam-garam (hot-hot) jalebi straight from the fryer, soaked for a minute or two in sugar syrup—although some prefer cold jalebi, often set to dry for several hours until the syrup has formed a hard shell.
But that’s part of the beauty of jalebi—it is delicious in all forms, which perhaps explains Saroo’s reaction when tasting the dessert after so many years, and so many thousands of miles away from his original introduction. It tasted like home.
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Grieving couple comforting each other
This response to someone grieving a friend might be the best internet comment ever
When someone is hit with the sudden loss of a friend or loved one, words rarely feel like enough. Yet, more than a decade ago, a wise Redditor named GSnow shared thoughts so profound they still bring comfort to grieving hearts today.
Originally posted around 2011, the now-famous reply was rediscovered when Upvoted, an official Reddit publication, featured it again to remind everyone of its enduring truth. It began as a simple plea for help: “My friend just died. I don't know what to do.”
What followed was a piece of writing that many consider one of the internet’s best comments of all time. It remains shared across social media, grief forums, and personal messages to this day because its honesty and metaphor speak to the raw reality of loss and the slow, irregular path toward healing.
Below is GSnow’s full reply, unchanged, in all its gentle, wave-crashing beauty:
Why this advice still matters
Mental health professionals and grief counselors often describe bereavement in stages or phases, but GSnow’s “wave theory” gives an image more relatable for many. Rather than a linear process, grief surges and retreats—sometimes triggered by a song, a place, or a simple morning cup of coffee.
In recent years, this metaphor has found renewed relevance. Communities on Reddit, TikTok, and grief support groups frequently reshare it to help explain the unpredictable nature of mourning.
Many readers say this analogy helps them feel less alone, giving them permission to ride each wave of grief rather than fight it.
Finding comfort in shared wisdom
Since this comment first surfaced, countless people have posted their own stories underneath it, thanking GSnow and passing the words to others facing fresh heartbreak. It’s proof that sometimes, the internet can feel like a global support group—strangers linked by shared loss and hope.
For those searching for more support today, organizations like The Dougy Center, GriefShare, and local bereavement groups offer compassionate resources. If you or someone you know is struggling with intense grief, please reach out to mental health professionals who can help navigate these deep waters.
When grief comes crashing like the ocean, remember these words—and hang on. There is life between the waves.
This article originally appeared four years ago.