Some more food for thought...

We Indians, oh boy! We share a deep-seated common passion for food.

While I will not put ourselves in the hedonist bracket, I will also not discount the fact that for us, all occasions (and there are really a lot of them), become a long procession of delicacies, sweetmeats, and savories which we religiously chomp our way through.

By the time we lick our fingers, and reach out for the strategically-placed box of tissues, we have already thought about our next mega meal.

Lest you think that the penchant is limited to prepubescents and / or children who coo in delight at the very mention of food, I’d say, try again. All drool equally.

With festivals and occasions a regular feature on our generally expansive calendars, I is hardly surprising that a lot of attention goes into deciding what makes a delicious entry or unceremonious exit from the menu.

So sweet-toothed Sandra is taken care of by three varieties of desserts (tiramisu, gulab jamuns, and the ubiquitous ice-cream). Greens-loving George is given due course of attention, and salads “sprout” on the menu. Jack who will eat anything that moves in his house (save his German shepherd, that is), is spoilt for choice, and the table shudders under the combined weight of steaks, kebabs, pork chops, rolls, etc. For the likes of vegan me, despair need not even cross their minds, a delightful spread winks at us invitingly.

The gastronomes that we are, we are also not averse to experimenting with new cuisines, generously indulging in them. So paneer tikkas rub shoulders with pasta and penne, while shorbas and sherbets are neck to neck with the shrimp and mulligatawny soups. Similarly, gajar ka halwa is reached out for, as are gelatos and guava soufflés. The pan-admired chicken tikka masala and flavorful Dal Makhani, ungrudgingly, share space with Hakka noodles, risottos, pizzas, and fish and chips.

Relatives, armed with gaily-wrapped sweetmeat boxes, (the wrapping next only to their sparkling, spangled dresses), arrive on our doorsteps, and after the customary round of back-slapping, pinching of cheeks (ohhh painful), and updated versions of who’s-doing-what and marrying-into-what, hurry back to their respective homes (and Thank God for small mercies). However, this deliverance is only after several rounds of snacks, (soft / hard) drinks, sweetmeats, and the odd lunch or dinner episode (depending upon what time they choose to land up on your doorstep) have made their appearance on the large table kept in the sitting room (kept for that very purpose perhaps?).

Whatever you will, food plays a pivotal role in the lives of us Indians. The concept of “Ghar ka khaana” (home-cooked food) is not wasted upon the likes of hose who stay away from their homes – students and people who work in place other than their own (TOMA and I being prime examples).

So when an invitation pops up from an ex-colleague, for a round of piping-hot-made-in-clarified-butter at his home on a Sunday morning, I’d be a fool to pass up such a brilliant offer, right?

Which is why, unlike other Sundays, this Sunday morning will see me showered, clothed, and perfumed , making my way to the colleague’s place, a song on my lips, a spring in my step, and an expectant hum in my belly.

Sunday, here I come….