“Ettu manikku ava athula irukanum. Seekkaram poi kuli da!” “2 minutes pa” I yelled as I was skimming through my Facebook News feed at 7.30. After a small kakka kuliyal, I was ready by 7.45 only to find out that my mom is still waiting for the guy from Mega TV, who wears more jewellery than PKS, to tell her what colour to wear for the day.
So we reached the house where we were supposed to have brunch that day. After some pre-brunch discussions about cricket and cinema with some uncles, half of whose name I don’t even know, and some “College muduinjiducha da kanna?” “Vela kadachiducha da kanna?” “Enga posting?” type questions from pattis and thathas, I heard the voice for which I was waiting for the past excruciating one hour. “Ellarayum saapada ulla koopadra!”
Then started the search for the wash basin. Surprisingly, I found it rather easily this time, which usually takes at least 10 “Wash basin enga irukku?“s. Banana leaves were laid down around the hall with tumblers as their paper weights. The one right beside the door was left for me. There were 2 children running around the house the whole time. I knew right away that this won’t be a peaceful brunch.
(Dear readers, henceforth I will be just rambling about food items and how I was disappointed with them. People who have to invent something trivial for the future of this country may refrain themselves from the pain)
After completing the obligatory leaf cleansing mechanism, rice was served (Yes. I too was surprised that there weren’t any banana pieces covered with sugar). Then happened the thing that I was afraid of, every time I eat with elders. Everyone poured some water in their hands and were rotating it around the heap of rice. Then they took a single parukkai of rice and threw it inside their mouths like I used to do with peanuts to impress, err.. my dad. I had done Pariseshanam for like three times on the whole in my entire post-poonal life. Everybody were staring at me as if I had murdered someone. They didn’t turn until I tried to desperately replicate the same thing they did. It was after that I was certified as an iyengar athu payyan. I wouldn’t have been surprised if I had been thrown out of that panthi If I hadn’t done that.
Two spoons or rather karandis of ghee was poured which was followed by a karandi full of paruppu. I was waiting for something to mix with the 80% ghee and 20% rice mix. It was at that came came in one mami with a big vessel in her hand. I was almost sure that it was sambar, but it wasn’t. It was thoagayal. Which tambrahm born genius mixes thoagayal with ghee rice? WHO? And then I noticed no one in that room mixed it. They were just treating it as a side dish. Silly guys. Missing out the single most delightful recipe originated in our land only followed by Rasam. Then some gazillion vegetables were served and I couldn’t wait any more. I started mixing rice with paruppu. Then comes the mami with the vessel which I first thought was sambar. And again it wasn’t. It was kaara kozhambu. YOU’VE POURED A LEAF FULL OF GHEE HERE. WHY CAN’T TO BRING SOMETHING THAT GOES WITH IT? Yelled the guy inside me. But then, be naked in a land full of naked people. So I did the unforgivable.
The only pleasing thing that the people who served there did was that they stop serving when they were asked to stop. People elsewhere would act as if they don’t even know the meaning of the word pothum. Pothum means stop serving! This has to be made as a poster and stuck in all marriage halls and other places.
If they didn’t serve rasam next, I decided to walk out of the place like Simbu. But they did. They actually did something that I expected. But then came the catch. No ghee this time. GHEE WAS PRACTICALLY INVENTED TO GO WITH RASAM! Do these people even know about it?! When I was about to finish something that was claimed to be rasam satham, one mami comes in with a plate full of appalam. Had it been my house, I would have literally cried there. But I didn’t as I had to maintain my chamathu payyan name outside my family
Then came in the payasam or some combination of akka, rava, vada and cell. (Akkaravadisal word play. Nice? No? Okay). After completely licking it out of the leaf (Seriously. Even dogs wouldn’t stand a chance with us when it comes to licking the payasam out of a banana leaf) , the rest of the meal was successfully finished without any severe damages. But the worst wasn’t over yet. I was the first one to finish the meal, everyone else were still very keen on licking their payasam. Oldest-Person-gets-up-first rule came into effect. But the problem is except my dad and me, everyone else seemed to be the oldest of the group. Then I was just licking the left over pachadis when someone who seemed to be the oldest of the group got up. I didn’t miss the chance. Just when I was almost up, my dad gave me the look which I think is the look that asked me to pick up the leaf. Then came the next voice which gave me godly pleasure. “Elaya yaarum edukka venam. Naanga eduthukkarom”. I flew away from the room which was filled with conversations which starting from the Delhi gang-rape and went till Chola Dynasty.
This post has been just about a normal meal that I had a few days ago. With people konthaliching over many sad and disgusting incidents happening all over the country, why the hell did you decide to write this? You may ask. But then it should have struck your mind just by reading the title. I even warned you somewhere in the middle. If you still have made it to the end of the post, blame yourself. And Thank you.