One man’s food….another man’s p-----?

It was my first visit to Baroda after my marriage. Baroda is my ‘in-law’s’ place of residence. All the members of the house paid great attention to me. The new son-in-law came under intense media glare at both ‘in-house’ as well as in the neighbourhood. Prior to this visit, I had visited Baroda during an educational tour along with my classmates. The experience was quite enjoyable, particularly with regard to food because most of the dishes were sweetened and I enjoy sweets and sweeter things immensely. Scientists have revealed that craving for sweets has a genetic basis. I endorse it. All my grannies had a craving for sweets. I was looking forward to another ‘sweet’ visit this time too…

I had surfeit of invitations and there was a complete clogging of dinner and lunch engagements. I didn’t know whose invitation to be accepted and whose invitation to be declined. I knew that declining was a delicate affair. So, I entrusted the task of managing the clash of dates, days and timings to my wife.

Wherever I went, every Gujarati family seemed to be paying unwearied attention to the gratification of my palate. They continually invited me to consume exotic preparations. At one of the lunch invitations, I declined the second helping of a particular dish. Everybody seemed to think that my appetite needed piquant stimulants to excite its activity. There was near unanimity in the collective judgement of my hosts. They pointed out to my brother-in-law rather discreetly to attend to this matter diligently.

My brother-in-law, quite sincerely, on our way back home procured some specific ingredients for preparing the recipe to stimulate my taste buds. Back home, there was all ostentation in preparing the dish. I became trifle nervous. I asked my wife, “What’s this all about?”. She giggled and vanished into the kitchen.

In the supper, when the dish was served, I naturally thought that anything prepared with such pains must possess some merits. From the extravagant value placed on the dish and the special esteem that they held for me, I had no other choice but to relish it.

I knew little or nothing about how it should be eaten. Should I mix with rice or should I consume it straight away? There was an uneasy silence. I didn’t want to make a wrong move and display my ignorance. I drank a glass of water and while gulping I was observing others as to who would give me a cue. My father-in-law was gracious enough. He took a spoonful and broke the ice. I also took a spoonful. One spoonful in my mouth tasted like a pungent ayurvedic preparation. I could neither swallow nor could I spit it out. It was far from an appetizer. I began to swallow it in minute quantities and put up a countenance as if I were enjoying every granule of it. My father-in-law enquired with utmost courtesy: “How is the dish?”. I replied with unease and suppressed anxiety: “Altogether excellent”. I was amazed the way my father-in-law and my brothers-in-law were relishing the dish with fresh helpings. They ordered another course for me. My mild resistance was overruled by their voice vote. I gulped the second potion swiftly and took initiative to mix rice with dhal to preempt any further affectionate coercion. To divert the attention of everyone around, I enquired about the ingredients that had gone into the preparation. My father-in-law in his spirited narration, listed the ingredients and their most desirable qualities. He boasted that all the ingredients were of phytochemical origin. I looked at him in askance. He reassured me that phytochemicals were not exotic chemicals, but were plant-derived and natural. I remembered Mark Twain’s words of wisdom: “Part of the secret of success in life is to eat and let the food fight (“phyte”) it out inside”. How was I to know that all that is natural is safe? Even poisons are natural phytochemicals, I thought.

I was in a state of affairs where I had no option of declining any dish that had been prepared for the supper. I consumed all the items with an outwardly impression, as though the potion had cast a spell on my appetite. There was an air of triumph on everybody’s face while I was consuming my food.

Though I am not a foodie by any standards, I am certainly not devoid of taste buds, I thought. My general curiosity has always prompted me to taste any new dish. As far as I could recollect, this dish had a weird taste. Yet, I complimented my in-laws for conjuring such a great delicacy. I told them not to worry anymore about my appetite! Inwardly, I was worried as to what catastrophe was in store for me. I was worried about the dinner invitations for the next two days, lest I should fall ill. All the while, my wife was watching my predicament gleefully.

Fortunately, I ful‘filled’ my dinner commitments successfully. I enjoyed immensely the hospitality of my Gujarati friends. I found them to be very warm, affectionate and social.

I thanked almighty for providing me such a robust digestive system to take care of myself. The molars, incisors and canines, coupled with whole battery of digestive juices, accounted for the efficient digestion of diverse fodder. I was also immensely pleased that I could keep my ‘in-laws’ and their friends a happy lot. I took leave of them wishing Aao Jo. (See you).

P.S: I was reluctant to title my article as: “One man’s food ….another man’s poison” to avoid any sort of disaffection from my ‘in-laws’. As an alternative, I thought of: “One man’s food …..another man’s potion?” Any one to second it?