love to eat or eat to love

falling in love over food

they used to say

i used to snigger under my breath

food? dal chawal and aam ka achaar,

that's the kind of food you fall in love over.

take me to a place that can even touch the smell of ghar ka dal chawal with aam ka aachaar and the occasional amiya-pudina ki chutney

and then places happened

cities and countries

first came lucknow and with it the kebabs and mughlai cuisine

the chicken was to be tethered into, the tundey to be savoured

my first home cooked hilsa, too, happened in the city of nawabs

a bengali household friend got for us a tiffin full of it

small bones,

poking their way into my mouth

under the tongue and behind the throat—some played hide and seek,

and the rest just stood amok

slowly i lost control over the greedy tastebuds

the fish was pervasive

don't blame me if you feel hungry or left out while reading this

there came the ailas of kerala cafe,

of course, kerala cafe!

more fish followed in Goa bhawan, in Pune, in Koregaon park and right bhusari colony

prawn fry was made,

in the panchsheel house of Delhi, we welcomed the monsoon last year with coconut prawn curry

i was falling for food,

stomach over heels

Tamil Nadu bhawan,

a chai tapri outside office here and a chinese van near the metro station there

lip-smacking, stomach racking indian chinese that broke sweat on the brows was had

and sometimes also packed

chawla's chick-inn on nights in the house with friends and booze flowing

sad fast food in loud bars that abuse music was binged on

there was Sol beer, there was the Corona that i detest

and of course the Bira

now they have a Bira strong too

my favourite Stella was around here as well

then came the sarvana bhawan trips,

the pomfret from Goa, its bones sticking to the back of my throat

the rice and curry blending atop the fingers

dog days came and so did trips to Neelgiris

dahi-idli was devoured on nights when the stomach wouldnt stop churning

spared of work and worry,

we did the eating and the dogs outside did their tail-wagging

filter coffees were downed and popcorns had

flat coke and dead popcorn

sometime not salted

sometime not alive,

we emptied buckets of them

madcaps, dexterous venturers into the unknown of new cuisine

the andhra thali is yet to be had

and the nagamese social visits stalled

majnu ka teela and sadar ki pani puri

connecting dots and filling the stomach

drinking beer in a pub in central Nagpur in May and in at the Students' Union in Cardiff in June

from the tasmacs of Chennai to the central London pubs

the varied alcoholic drinks at the students' favourite multi-level Prysm bar in Cardiff

where we had walked to, all jazzed up, on a drizzly, rainy July night

nights in cardiff came early and stayed for long

but the blue dip of depression didn't stain my dotless sky

twenty seven summers, twenty six indian and one half-Welsh, half-English

from tasteless english breakfasts, to Murugan idli on mornings so brief and dauntless

bacon was a constant

bacon idli also happened sometime in between..

memories withered, return to me

on a late working evening

with stomach full of savouries made from flat and puffed rice

some sweet, some salty

as the taste of dal chawal returns to my palette

how is it still so singular?

maa, whenever she was home, would feed us morsels from her fingers

that is the taste of love

the taste of food you first fall in love with

without even knowing

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