Tuesday, September 15, 2009

A grain of rice

I have never eaten so much rice in a single day in my whole life that I am eating in Chennai at a single meal. I am eating it by quintals. Am not averse to rice, actually it is helping in to fill up those hollows in my body which time failed to fill, putting up some coveted fat, inflating the wrapper around my soul.

I remember that biology class in my 8th standard where we were being taught about anatomy and the discussion moved to diaphragm. Our teacher was one practical man and he believed that raw theory does no good. So in his enthusiasm of giving us a very real view of the diaphragm he looked around and suddenly pounced on me. The very moment he summoned me to come to the podium, I knew what he wanted. I was tormented, felt very humiliated and as every single pair of eyes sat themselves on me enjoying my biological build up, I raised myself slowly, praying every moment for some Krishna to appear and save me from my predicament.

Girls in the front row started giggling and the back-benchers were thoroughly pleased. Everyone was amused except me. I wanted to kick that teacher in the butt, throw mud at him, have him disbarred, write a long letter to the home ministry, HRD minister or education minister or whoever can take care of that, and every concerned person, write to the editor of all the national dailies, wanted him to show his own diaphragm in front of the whole school and finally wanted him to apologize on national television - and in the process making my first grand appearance on TV. The last thought actually made me grin and added a tinge of courage and bravery to my already rocking image, which further amused the class.

Among all this, the teacher was still eyeing people and then suddenly I felt the presence of Krishna in the room. My prayers were answered – who says there is no God? I was asked to stay back and another victim was chosen. This young boy was shorter and thinner than me! And as he opened his shirt and took a deep breath making a clear display of that hollow diaphragm emphasizing every bone, I ducked into my books trying not to laugh at this naked warrior who saved my face that day.

Getting out of this reminiscence, Chennai is stuffing me with a lot of rice. It’s needless to say how I am craving for some daal, chole, razma grains on my plate. Still some of my inconsiderate friends keep quizzing me on the menu. Please find my feeling guys –

Mat pooch ki khaane main kya hai ae zaalim,
Mat pooch ki khaane main kya hai ae zaalim,
Bus ankhoon se aansoon ki ek dhaar bahi jaati hai


Anonymous said...

Sahi Jwaab...!!! 6 maihne mein mast gol matol swami nathan ban jaayega..!!! Nice to know that you have started loving rice :-) anyways, why don't u try cook rajma, chole of your own.

Anonymous said...

Please draft a short story on rice... start bwith following lines... main aur meri rice, aksar ek doosre ko khaate rehte hai, tum hote to kaisa hota tum nahi hote to kaisa hota...