Food comes with a language of its own

I walked into the pizzeria around the corner from my house and I knew I wanted to try something different from the regular Margherita. The place was neat, crisp and even pleasing to the senses with its turquoise and white interiors. Everything about the bright, sunny day told me that I would enjoy the wonderful meal. 

Then, came the moment of truth. 

The menu was in Italian and I needed serious help from Google Translate. Not wanting to make the tedious effort, I turned to the server to ask for suggestions. Almost as soon as I uttered my request, I realized my mistake. The server was not bilingual and my food habits were unusual for this side of the world.

 I am a vegetarian

 I am allergic to eggplants 

 I don’t like zucchini 

Minutes into the conversation, which included some parts of the sign language, I resorted to the regular Margherita. 

When I see someone who appears to hail from some part of the Indian sub-continent, I realize that I may have said my prayers well. 

There was a time when I met a Bangladeshi server at a restaurant, and managed to strike up a conversation in Bengali to order a finger-licking vegetarian lasagna. I can never forget the look on his face, after conversing with me in his mother tongue. He served me well, and brought me chili oil realizing that my taste palates are accustomed to the strong flavor and I went back there every week just so that I could enjoy the meal and the conversation. 

Another Bangladeshi once came to my rescue at a take away joint.  I visited the place because their menu included a veggie burger. Excited that this would be easy, I went there to grab a quick lunch. The description of their tortilla wraps called out to me and my love for Mexican food was doing summersaults in the pit of my stomach. The tortillas had pieces of chicken but I was happy to buy it with the other fillings at the same price. This place was an open kitchen and the chef, a Bangladeshi. I presented my request to him in Bengali. He was very happy to hear his language in this foreign city and even happier to accede to my request! He saved me the trouble of decoding my innocent request for the Italian cashier. 

Some times the half Italian-quarter English-quarter sign language conversations flow into tones like 

“Oh vegetariano! No chicken, fish okay?” 

“No we cannot make the pizza without the salmon toppings” 

“Yes, we have vegetarian soup” - “Are you sure?” -“Yes, its all vegetables in chicken broth” 

“Yes, we can provide split bills” - Brings separate bills for each item! 

If what is served, does not meet my expectations there is no way I can complain because the server conveyed the specifications of the dish. Just, not in so many words! 

10 Years Later

In movies, and especially Bollywood movies, the story writers' favorite part would probably be to depict a shift in timeline. It is amazing how the shift depicts an overall transition of all things: from the upholstery in the lead actor's house to his personal car, his face suddenly becomes more lean, more handsome; his city of residence- more elegant and the world seems to have moved at the speed of 1/10th a light year in a blinking second.

I love such movies and I particularly love it when the text rolls by with Ranbir Kapoor in the frame. The way he walks: pea-sized tears rolling down his cheeks, his head raised towards heaven, hands in his pockets and his Oh! so manly stride. Just then the scene fades and Tada! there's the start of a new era in his life!

With these images in my head and the lyrics of the song Ilahi Mera Jiyae in my heart, I had left home a couple of months ago. Only, the transition was not as perfect, I was not clothed in a Ralph Lauren jacket and a pair of Gap jeans, I was not in a rosy garden with first, the snow falling behind me and then, the sun shining down brightly! No, none of that happened. It was a very slow, experience-filled (sometimes painful) process of transition, one in which every day, hour and minute taught me a great deal. Patience, tolerance, resilience and stress-control were just a few lessons which had begun. These lessons and more, are still far from completion of the course! I am still learning, still growing, still coping with the lessons of adulthood and taking baby steps for fear of tumbling, tripping and falling flat on my face!

The directors, spot boys, video-graphers and editors cover up Ranbir's mistakes. Whether it is induced in me by these Bollywood movies, or it is one of my many unrealistic streaks; I am not sure: but, I have always feared mistakes. I fear committing mistakes more than I fear the improbability of correcting them.

As I live through the 10 years of my life which I will look back upon in my old age; I am trying to make beautiful memories, take chances, learn, live and enjoy so that everyday of my life is interesting, vivid, cheerful and beautiful. I want to leave no scope for a "10 years later" line when my life-story is narrated.

As much as I know that each day and every moment cannot make it into my special diary of memories; I am tempted to make every day worth its while, worth narrating, worth remembering and most importantly, fulfilling!