Daal Chaval vs Butter chicken

Post- khana prank

Food is the be all and end of any human being bereft of all manmade barricades across borders. In the portmanteau world of netizen, a murse yearns to grab the evailable food for vegetarians, non- vegetarians, eggetarians and converted vegetarians. The very emotion of food has an unequivocally revered position even in the social networks of facebooks, instagrams and twitter with an added splendor of emoticons. Food is capable of calling out castes and segregate us on the basis of the ascribed status and state of belonging. At times, people are reluctant to assert that they eat chicken and mutton. And what about beef then? (Sheesh!  It is an untouchable item. If at all you eat, never utter a holy word on that. It is injurious to your citizenship as well). Eat but not meat! Eat but not tweet! Eat but not beef roast! Eat but not boast of non- veg! Eat but not treat meat as an auspicious dish! I used to think in this manner owing to the contemporary political scenario we encounter day to day. But, something had tied myself in knots. The episode happened a couple of months ago on the day of Vishu. It seems bizarre when a Malayali wishes to celebrate her New Year at the royal land of Rajasthan (Yeah, I am an epic weirdo forever). In fact, the situations encompassing my life circle prompted to opt for such a ridiculously amazing verdict. A fast and furious journey from Mangaluru to Bengaluru to the final destination of Jaipur International Airport via Delhi.( I sensed the contentment of  rhyming words Bangalore and Mangalore in the words of Indigo counter bhayya who expressed that in the form of wordy expression with a smiling gesture.) I proceeded my journey from Sindhi Camp junction to meet my host. After the heated discussions on my men( Thakazhi and Premchand), I thought of going out to make my Vishu unusual by a dating with myself. Suddenly, I was reminded of the meeting with our Indian Youth Parliament crew. It is lovely meeting Ashutosh ji and team again. After eating each other’s head with juice packets and Anaar, my stomach declared its appetite with a slight pain. I sensed it is sensible to have a late brunch. Where else will I go other than to my Sindhi Camp? The place that reinforces the non-vegetarian in me who is in a deep slumber. The familiar face of hotel bhayya cracked a smile on me with a gesture to occupy my usual last table seat. Within no time, I was given the menu card by another acquainted bhayya. I noticed something new in the menu card. I burst into laughter capable of catching everyone’s binocular view on me. 

The menu card uttered with a symbolic representation- “Don’t let anyone treat you like a daal chaval, because you are a butter chicken”.  I was in dilemma or frenzy. So, when in doubt, what more can be done other than ordering a plate of roti and butter chicken?

How to eat and treat?

My mind was blanketed by the menu card quote. I felt daal chaval and butter chicken literally started waging a war on my diet idiom. I enjoyed the royal food at the royal cum pink city to the core. After paying the bill by giving a smile of gladness to the hotel bhayya, I made a move to Birla Mandir. There, I started re--capturing the rhythm of Jaipur with the meticulous sketch of people, scenes, images, places and whatever I have come across so far in my experience in pink. The serenity of Mandir made me feel we should not under-estimate ourselves and do not let everyone treat us a curry leaf. We are as worthy as a butter chicken and we can definitely render the aroma and allure of chicken in the lives of many. ‘Full many a gem of the purest ray serene’ cannot waste its sweetness always on the desert air. The general absurdity of life for sure will acknowledge the golden heart of butter chicken in us no matter it lacks all the magnetism of an appealing anatomy. I cherish the charisma of the daal chaval versus butter chicken day of my new year.