The packet that feels like home
There is something deeply familiar about a cone of roasted peanuts twisted from a strip of newsprint, or a stack of crispy pakoras handed over the counter in pages torn from the morning edition. Across India — from Mumbai's street-side bhajiya stalls to Kolkata's roll corners — newspaper has functioned as the default wrapper for generations. It feels thrifty, even nostalgic. The problem, food safety authorities now say, is that familiarity has quietly disguised a real risk.
The Food Safety and Standards Authority of India (FSSAI) has explicitly warned that newspapers should never be used to store, wrap or serve food. The reason goes beyond basic hygiene — it sits in the chemistry of the ink itself.
What the ink is actually doing to your snack
Newspaper printing ink is a complex cocktail: pigments, solvents, resins and industrial chemical compounds, none of which are designed for food contact. When a hot, freshly fried samosa or a pile of oily chaat lands on newsprint, the oil in the food acts almost like a solvent, pulling chemicals out of the ink and into what you are about to eat. Heat and moisture accelerate the process further.
One group of compounds that researchers have flagged with particular urgency is mineral oil hydrocarbons (MOHs), which can come from both recycled paper and printing inks. The European Food Safety Authority has noted that one class of these — mineral oil aromatic hydrocarbons, or MOAHs — is considered potentially carcinogenic and genotoxic, meaning they may interfere with DNA. Research published in *Food Additives & Contaminants* found that fatty foods are especially vulnerable to absorbing these compounds from packaging. FSSAI's own guidance notes that even small amounts of these bioactive substances can accumulate in the body with repeated exposure over time.
And it is not only the ink. Before a newspaper reaches your corner stall, it has travelled through printing presses, warehouses and multiple pairs of hands — collecting dust, bacteria and environmental pollutants along the way. The food contact risk, in other words, is layered.
Why this matters for a food audience in India
India's street food culture is one of its greatest joys, and the goal here is absolutely not to shame it. But the newspaper-wrap habit is genuinely widespread — arguably more so here than almost anywhere else — which means the cumulative exposure for regular snack-lovers is higher than it might be in contexts where the practice is occasional.
The good news is that the switch is neither expensive nor complicated. FSSAI and food safety experts point to several practical alternatives that are already accessible: food-safe paper bags, butter paper or parchment paper, banana leaves (which are traditional, naturally hygienic and compostable), aluminium foil, and certified food-grade biodegradable wrapping. If you are a regular at a particular stall, carrying a small stainless steel dabba is a simple habit that sidesteps the problem entirely.
For vendors and small food businesses, the ask is equally straightforward — stocking a roll of butter paper or food-safe bags costs very little and signals care for customers. As food safety awareness grows in India, especially among younger, urban consumers, this is also quietly becoming a mark of quality.
The samosa itself is not the risk. It is just the wrapper — and that, at least, is an easy thing to change.