MESSED UP

“Are you guys coming? Its 8:45pm, we’ll have to do the dishes if you don’t hurry up…”

“It’s so hot in here…Our mess should get an award for having a state-of-the-art central heating system. Oh crap! Rajma! Why do they keep feeding us with this poisonous sh**?”

With that sort of a reaction, I should have just stormed out of the mess and probably eaten in a dhaba [1]. But…

“I can’t! I just ate out yesterday thanks to Chhole-Bhature. You know how fond I am of those elastic Bhaturas. Now I’m broke. You guys go ahead.”

So I had to go for the compromise. I was not among those who would hoist the white flag so soon. I decided to eat, but just for the sake of it. “Bhaiya jaldi plate lana!” I demanded. I poured one serving spoon of Rajma, a couple of pieces of potato from the dish which constituted of an unidentified and undeterminable mixture.

I must though confess that at least the Rotis were not rubbery. Nonetheless, owing to its ‘mess-y’origin, it was pretty hard to digest.

So I scurried through my so-called dinner and got up in probably what should be scripted as a record time, thus earning the cynosure of all the eyeballs, belonging to those satiating their tongues and tummies। But they say that the mind is faster than light and hence, also than my eating speed. It had managed to scrutinize a few memories during my fraction-course meal.

***

“I don’t want to eat any of that stuff, Ma!. I’m tired of this mundane routine meal of yellow dal and rice.”

“Apu! Stop being such a spoilt brat! You have anyway made it a point to not touch tomatoes, karela, brinjal, so on and so forth. Now at least don’t add basic ‘rice and dal’ to that list. How will you endure this preparation phase? You won’t have anyone coercing you like this in your mess.”

“I shall look forward to that eagerly.”

***

A year later, I was already packing up to leave. And this is where I landed up. My college, MNNIT Allahabad, had a reputation of being in the top from the bottom, when it came to hospitality. I was going to regret not listening to mom earlier.

I realized that on the very first day when I had to fight the fiercest of battles for my breakfast. The freshmen had instigated a virtual coup in the mess. Never in my life had I imagined that I’d have to duck, parry and literally assault, for two slices of dry bread with fried potato (the protagonist) filling, covering just about a quarter of the bread surface.

I learnt that the standards were set to go down even further as the days would unfold. And…the seniors are always right. The rice got drier with time, the dal dilute, the vegetables became increasingly hard to distinguish and the potato, resolute as ever. Wouldn’t be astonished if a few cases of acute anorexia be reported in the near future!

On Wednesdays and Saturdays, our mess had something special in offer. No sir! No Chicken, can’t afford that, as Allahabad goes down as one of the holy cities; a tourist destination where people wash their sins, mind you, after committing them. So thanks to ‘The Threesome’ we have to settle for kingdom Plantae.

What’s so “Special” about those two particular meals? Well, for one, we get paneer; as though that’s something we would die for and that too with double the oil supply. Post meal ‘Gelusil’ doses are a characteristic feature on those days. To add to it, the meager quantity of Paneer cubes is interspersed in the unctuous gravy and requires vigorous rummaging to retrieve. The very sight of mortal beings doing the same publicly was seriously hilarious to me.

***

Hang on! There is a twist in the tale. It may have been involuntary and unintentional, but I, myself had actually started sieving out those Paneer cubes from the deeps of the gravy. And surprisingly I had also become active in pouncing on the Gulaab Jamun, a sweet dish I have despised since childhood.

Basically, I was starting to become a part of it. The mess may have been pathetic. Some of the dishes may have been absurdly inexplicable, eg. The yellow Kadhi- consumed by none and yet it prevails. But I could apply my methods to adapt. And one has to recognize the work put in by the rustic but friendly mess workers, whose day begins when the previous one ends for many of us and who leave no stones unturned to fulfill our urbane demands.

So it was now well established that my answer to the below standard mess food was simple- “no consumption”. But I had to get some nourishment; I had to live after all.

This is where my mess had changed me. I was the thirsty traveler, stuck in the desert, and was realizing the essence of water. I had learnt how to enjoy good food, whenever and wherever provided with it. The last three years transformed me into a Gourmet; my mother, my Grandma and of course my Nanny, being the connoisseurs. Of course an infinite list of restaurants [1] should also be added to that list as I leave no stones unturned in gobbling up as much as possible, as though this were my last meal.

At home, the enhanced foodie in me was greeted with an element of surprise, but was welcomed with spread arms. My feelings for that very meal comprising of arhar dal–rice garnished with ghee, had turned on its head. That wasn’t all. There were funnier things on the card. My demand-list now also encompassed milk, cheese and recipes incorporating coriander leaves and tomato!

All the readers who are unaware of my childhood obstinacy and tantrums with regard to food just assume this statement to be analogous to the sun rising in the west.

Believe it or not, this newly pronounced glutton may well demand some fried fish, the next time he’s headed home-wards.

[1]- Refer to “Two Worlds, One Country”…September 2008.

The Phoenix Within

It was a cold and wintry night of January 1989 when I, Pradeepta Panigrahi was born in this world. My parents decided to call me Apu, my short and sweet nickname.

Apu was as sweet (and short too) as his name. He had very rapidly topped the favorites list of every family member. Of course he had no competition to go with, so the fact that he was the apple of everyone’s eyes did not come as a surprise. But to his credit, he was a cheerful and playful baby, who rarely cried. Apu also had a beautiful and bushy set of eyelashes among his attributes.

The little toddler had slowly grown into a shy little boy as Apu was almost ready for his preliminary set of lessons in life. He got into school, made new friends and more importantly made a new start to his life. The term ‘Apu’ had been reinforced, though on some occasions into Appu as well.

Apu learnt a lot of new things along the way. One of the major breakthroughs came during his later years of primary school, when he started mastering the art of cricket. Over the years, cricket went on to become his passion in life. Though, he never went to become a cricketer.

I should probably shed some light on the word ‘shy’ which I had earlier associated with Apu। Apu was never comfortable with people. He simply loathed socializing. Every time he would go to a party, it would be followed by a post event presentation at home regarding what his problem was in simply opening his mouth and uttering a couple of words in front of other people.

Apu also was not the best of students. He was inherently lazy and enjoyed being creative. But they say time heals all wounds. So with time Apu had started learning arts of management. Although his verbal output during public gatherings continued to be minimal, he had mastered the art of smiling. Whenever awkward, just smile-“heee J ”! Even in studies, he was showing some progress. He had started enjoying the company of books and that reflected in his performance.

But this was when Apu was not keeping well. The circumstances had changed his routine, his priorities. Believe it or not Apu was dying. It was like a cancer, ever so slow and yet heading towards the inevitable. But life had funny ways of dealing. As Apu reached his end, another life was taking shape almost simultaneously. His name was Pradeepta.

Pradeepta was hard working, disciplined and most importantly, determined. His life got off to terrific start with some wonderful achievements at a very early stage. Pradeepta’s success made him widely acknowledged. He persisted with his perseverance and tried his level best to continue to reap the fruits of success. Not that he had a choice. Actually it was not he, who was behind this driving force. The time demanded so.

But that was the problem. If the time got the best out of him, it also siphoned out the worst. Pradeepta had become highly insecure regarding what the future held for him. Cut throat competition was at its toughest. The fear of failure was looming around him and feelings like nervousness, tension, bitterness and rage were all creeping into him.

Pradeepta did not enjoy cricket, nor was he creative. But somewhere deep inside, he was lazy and did get distracted. Hang on! That was not Pradeepta. So was it…?

Indeed it was. Apu was not dead.

So Pradeepta finally managed to slog on and overcome some of the odds in the end to enter a decent undergraduate institute. That meant a new way of life for him. He would now be on his own. But Pradeepta had a new set of problems in coping with this new challenge. The parasites of tension and insecurity still thrived within him and he now had to face several prejudices in the form of taunts.

All in all, Pradeepta was unhappy and a turn around was called for. So desperate and choiceless, Pradeepta had to do it. He killed himself. Surprisingly though, nobody was mourning, not even his parents. On the contrary they were all celebrating. And the occasion?- The birth of a boy. He was christened Prady.

Prady intrinsically knew how to enjoy life. He maintained a fair distance from academics and was quite active in co-curriculars. Prady also loved to entertain everybody with his rather lame jokes and maintain a light atmosphere. He made friends, hanged out, dressed up, bought a lot of things and of course, loved to eat. Eat good food that is; defined as the food available at home or/and at restaurants and fast food chains. As a matter of fact he ate in his mess just for the sake of it and the amount would be enough to make a sumptuous meal, for a mouse.

That pretty much sums it up. Prady had basically learnt how to extract the best out of himself and be selective. He played cricket, he learnt how to swim, took part in quizzes, events and several contests, he even won some. Setting foot into new ventures and thereby discovering new arenas of talent within was something he was not reluctant to try out. But Prady had the tendency of getting apprehensive when the tides were not favorable. An underlying tension incessantly disturbed him, especially during exam periods, which was followed by an outburst with someone or the other.

But I would not blame Prady for that. After all it was not him. Excuse me? In that case…?

Well, it did not take Prady an exorcist to find out that it had to be the ghost of Pradeepta who was haunting him. After all he was born the same day on which Pradeepta had met with his end. But Prady also loved cricket and enjoyed creativity. So could it be possible that he was suffering from a case of multiple haunting. Absolutely! Apu, too had joined in the league.

Nevertheless, Prady kept hanging in there and did not allow the former two, to get the better of him. Oh I almost forgot to mention. An interesting activity that Prady loved to indulge in, was writing articles for his blog.

Folks! It’s time for the revelation now. I am Prady. I am Pradeepta. I am Apu. As though you did not know!

Indeed I may have unearthed a lot from within me in the last couple of years. I may love Prady. But Prady will have to die sooner or later. Unlike Pradeepta he won’t have to take an extreme step. Worse than that, he will be murdered, brutally. The suspects list will include the world, its people, the circumstances, the time… But none of them will be found guilty. What actually will undergo prosecution in the end is the weakness within.

But justice shall be denied to Prady. That is because his heir, his successor who would probably be Mr. Panigrahi may not bother to fight despite being perturbed. Mr. Panigrahi will probably be more curtailed in his actions. He will not enjoy the freedoms which Prady did. Mr. Panigrahi will have to bear a polished personality as he may end up being a puppet in the hands of some Mr. Boss. But even his pains shall come to an end some day or the other. Next in line shall be Panigrahi Sir, Panigrahi Babuji and finally a Late Pradeepta Panigrahi somewhere down the line.(after a loooong time hopefully) . But Apu will always remain immortal deep inside and so will Pradeepta, Prady and the entire hierarchy.

The fact is that a person lives and dies multiple times mentally, within his shelf life. Change is unavoidable and omni prevalent. Sometimes it may be voluntary and sometimes involuntary. I had earlier attributed the cause to internal weakness. But since it happens to everyone, changing is considered normal. But changing more than a specified number of times is probably what actually indicates weakness.

So the best implication that could be taken home from here is that whenever you are staring down the barrel or are depressed and fed up with yourself, you simply kill yourself. Mind you! Yourself! Not your body, because that, once terminated shall never return. But you can be reborn, even if it has to be from the ashes.

And one more thing- The next time you read the birth and mortality rate statistics in the social sciences textbook, kindly multiply those numbers by 4 or 5 or even more.