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! 

Settling Down

Sitting in 8 degrees celsius, with unwashed hair and tucked under the quilt on Christmas Day, I’m thinking a zillion things and have my brain running around in different directions right now. 

I am wondering what exactly do we adults mean when we use the phrase ‘settling down’. In India, it usually indicates towards marriage, but of course it has several connotations. 

Being on the move is cool, trendy and probably in some minds it reserves the image of Ranbir Kapoor movies. When you’re the one with skates on your feet, you feel the pinch on your toes and the bruise on your knees. When you’re in the middle of being young and heading towards seniority in adulthood, you land up asking yourself several questions about stability, settling down and peace and quiet. 

Cut to: You’re on one of those short-lived phases of being stationed at one place in life and then you feel the youth pumping in your veins urging you to get out there and see even more places. That is what happens when your hormones go through waves and curves which could beat even the Atlantic Ocean because you’re not sure yourself what you want and what makes you happy. 

Adults (of the senior wing) often tell you that time will do the needful and let time takes its own course et all. And then, when time has come around and you’re settled in life you will miss those nightly walks on cobbled paths, the solitary times by the beach, the camping trips and the scuba dives. And then, the adult you will crave for the cells of youth.

Such is life: always a cycle between what you have and what you crave. 

When reel peeks into real

**All information provided in this post is imaginary and based on assumptions. None of it is verified: statistically, or otherwise.**

(Well, that was just an attempt to make the post feel like the beginning of a television program or a movie.)

I am an ardent believer of 'The Secret' by Rhonda Byrne. If it sounds Latin to you know, that The Secret is a belief propagated by Rhonda Byrne though her books. The belief system states that you attract in your life whatever you think. So, if you think positively the Genie of your Universe blesses you with the same. However, if your thoughts are depressing, sad, morose and abstractly disappointing then the Genie interprets them appropriately and applies the same to your life depending upon your unique situation.

This belief of mine met my love for television recently when I was blessed with a new set top box and its accompanying 350 channels! I love watching Star World but when there are shows I don't particularly follow, I switch to Sony. Nonetheless, with the all new experience of watching the television with two remote controls now, I was flipping channels and I reflected back on the plot of most of the Hindi serials. For time immemorial, they've been centering around broken homes caused by either an extra-marital affair or a quarrelsome mother and daughter-in-law duo. There are financial setbacks in these families caused by frauds and siblings pulling guns on each other every second day. Their scams are more often that not in crores and at least one household featured in the serial is a mansion. There's crying and there's back-biting, then some more crying and pitying, spitting venom and gaining sympathy the process goes on endlessly. These thoughts were going rampant on my mind when I paused on Bade ache lagte hain on Sony and I realized that the lead pair of the serial have barely lived a 'normal' life as that of a regular husband and wife. Ram and Priya were first forced into an arranged marriage, by the time they got close to each other Madam was cast away for five long years. Now that they're back in touch they're still fighting over the custody of their child. Evidently, they love each other. Well then, why can't they just start living like a family again! Why can't the serial makers show us what is normal! If the element of unusual has to be added then why does it always dwindle off to the negative end? Why can't they be unrealistically happy?

Food for thought: We see these pessimistically plotted serials usually during our family dinner time. At least a part of our minds holds on to these ideas and images and that is what our grey cells revolve around. So the big question is: Can the increase in the rate of depression among individuals and the increase in the number of broken homes be accorded to these serials, then?