Voluntary domestication

Holi has always been pure unadulterated fun for me. I fondly remember the Holi I used to play as a 6 year old where our family friends would gather at our place and there would be tons of home made light, crispy gujhya and kanji pakori and ahaaa…that Moong daal halwa aunt used to make.

Second phase of Holi was at Engineer’s Estate. Nothing changed except a few additions. Those mandatory dips in fountains, given to most unsuspecting victims and then to cautious ones, were the glam add ons; along with the fire hose working overtime as a part of ‘1 stream wets 10’ strategy. A few more people got added, we had more space and more victims were to be pulled out of their homes…but essentially nothing changed.

Hostel holi was third phase. Witnessing the shirt tearing ceremony (Of the guys of course, keep your imaginations intact!), getting rolled in mud infested with dead earthworms (yuk) and stinking for two days afterwards, getting smeared with a colour called ‘Jaundice’ which made sure that I look like a patient for another two and latest was getting hair and face of a pure veggie like me, conditioned by and smeared with egg. Ram ram!! I love every moment of Holi.

Pause.

After scrubbing the skin with Biotique Micro Granule Orange Peel Soap a few times and rinsing out tubs and tubs of colour form hair and finishing with touch up with Dove body silk crèam, I realized something which had not stuck me till then. I was hungry and sleepy. Under normal circumstances, mom would have fed me and I would have dozed off. Since I was at hostel, there was only a small deviation. I had a lunch invitation from Bakar Resort. So I, Jerry and Jellicle Cat rushed to the Baker Resort (recently renamed as Bakar Bar).

We were met with Vikas Bhaiya at the door, who had woken up from bhang stupor and went back to it immediately afterwards. The 7 (Actually 7 minus 1, since D’day was in Calcutta) dwarfs were fast asleep and there was NO LUNCH!!!! I could hear someone doing Kathakali in my stomach and here hosts were all sleeping away to glory. Pink Panther and Balloo were in the past –present- future whirlwhile, but that is besides the point.

And then came the realization. We were three women (Actually two women plus one teenager) in the house. And we felt that sense of responsibility women have. What the heck!! All we wanted to do was to make something for our own selves.

So Jerry and I marched to the kitchen and did a quick survey. Vegetables were cut, dough was made. All we had to do was to cook. Just cook.

Jerry being a Maadu and I being an Aggarwal, we had lots in common. Things like ‘what do you call that oil which is wrapped in dough for making poori’ to ‘methods of preventing the aloo sabzi from burning’. However, both Maadu and Aggarwal women were clueless on how to pour oil in a can of 1 inch dia., straight from the poly pack. Algorithms refused to come to our aid. Nothing much was lost. In fact, we added one rug to the laundry a few minutes later. And task was delegated to our teenage J.Cat.

We had to make enough food so that it is sufficient for 10 people. This was subjected to the bhang effect – if any of them had asked us to keep making pooris for 4 hours, we would have to make poori’s only for 9 people from that moment onwards.

It was brilliant team work. Jerry make the balls. I rolled them into as round and as thin sheets as I could. This actually meant that there was one map of Australia, one resembled a 5 pointed star, another looked like a heart. No Abraham Lincoln there, though. That happens only to a French fry at McDees.

And Jerry made sure that she drops a few drops of oil on her feet every now and then, just to check that oil is hot enough for the pooris. She is this nice girl, who does not mind burnt skin very much.

The high point came in our dull existence when our pooris actually started coming out round, were golden brown balls when we took them out of kadhai and our sabzi actually was prevented from getting burnt and taste was just right. We did a little jig and planned to save the best pooris for our mighty selves.

Jellicle Cat served the food and made sure only the best of pooris reach the table and made sure that there were no logistical issues in the last leg. ‘New and improved Vadoon’ took a snap of us, for the record. Mr. Punjabi Potter thanked our mortal selves and Sri Sri Sri Rishi Maharaj Ji complimented the sabzi (Not us, not us!!)

And (7 minus 1) dwarfs went back to sleep after the meal. And then we did what I do not do usually. I ate and relished the food I had made myself. Or prolly, I was too hungry. And this was at 6.30 in the evening.

If I ever tell mom that I and Jerry made food for TEN people, she would start suspecting that I have started on alcohol or probably that finally her efforts are bearing fruit. As for me, it was a tiring but enjoyable experience, probably because I was the processor here, not the dumb terminal mom makes out of me. Or is it so that I am getting domesticated….. NOOOOO!!!!!