Much Love, yet a Broken Heart!

Peace out!

Guest Stuffing

We must have heard of turkey but have you heard of “Guest stuffing”? This is supposedly a well-known practice for anyone who grew up in India of forcing the guest to eat until the guest is an inch away from throwing up. This is considered as a great hostly thing to do. Leaving any food that the host gratuitously pushed on to your plate is considered very barbaric.

Anyways, for New Year, I visited my cousin’s family in Bangalore for a day and this is my proper visit ever since I was back from my many travels. When I arrived at his place, on agreed upon time – like an idiot, he was not home. His dad assured me that he would return soon and insisted that I waited.

My uncle’s friend was also waiting there and it was considered so indecent of me to leave that place while, Mr. R, an interesting guy, interested being a euphemism for creepy. There was no end to his questions. He seemed to have an axe to grind against young Indians. He didn’t sound like an average curious George; he sounded more like a lawyer arguing for my death sentence. Several questions followed that reiterated the accusations against me. Finally, he gave me a shocking sympathy for not being a software engineer. *face palm*. After serious identity crises over there, I took a quick move inviting everyone for dinner.

On the other side, my aunt is on a spree of dumping her kitchen delicacies in front of us and almost squeezing it in the mouths. It felt as if she is making an adjustment for draught in Ethiopia. My cousin’s wife is a tamilian and she is at her best in serving us all the south Indian delicacies. The dinner featured South Indian delicacies Idly, Sambar, Vada, lemon rice, coconut rice and some varieties of sweets. You won’t believe this is all made as my welcome. Just then my cousin entered with a dozen full of food parcels that contained rotis, some two varieties of paneer curries and some snacks. Who under the sun would think this is my diet while I am watching my calories. My dinner plate came pre-configured with 4 idlies, 2 rotis and some curries and chutneys. Damn, I didn’t want to fill myself with idlies. Then I thought: Ok, not to worry. If I go easy on the lemon rice, I can do some well-deserved justice to the Rasmalai.

I polished off the idlies and rotis with the deftness of an experienced South Indian. *plop* *plop*. Two vadas magically appeared on my plate. I looked up in horror. The spatula wielding hostess was standing right next to me with a bowl menacingly full of vadas. “Oh, you are young, you can eat two more” she dismissed my horror with a wave of the spatula. I begged the hostess to control her effervescing hospitality. I was even scared to utter a word because my uncle’s friend is also sharing the same table with me and asking me questions like if I knew how to use a broom, if I knew how to cook other than pushing off this amazing food.

I ate the bonus vadas too. As I was serving myself a carefully measured portion of lemon rice, I heard the host guffaw. “Don’t eat like a bird. That is why you are so thin.” Before I could fully comprehend the ominousness of his statement, the host moved with dizzying alacrity and before I knew, a lemon-rice-heap of the size of Gibraltar was sitting on my plate. I am sure a tear trickled down my cheek as bid farewell to any remaining hopes of getting to the Rasmalai.

I laboriously finished the lemon rice. I was so full that I could not even laugh at the bed wet jokes of my childhood. But, like a wounded soldier crawling towards home country, I reached out for the Rasmalai. I had them in a cup and was about to eat when I heard, “What? You are already having dessert?” *Plop* There was Sambar on my plate. “I saw you didn’t eat Sambar.” At which point, I gave up. The silver lining was that the hostess gave me my Rasmalai to-go. And now I am writing this between my regular breaks to the washroom!

Btw – Happy New Year , 2015