Death of a Carnivore

Biting into an animal was never a natural instinct for me. Born into a Curd rice community the only animal produce at home was milk . The closest thing to an animal cooked at home was an egg. The question never rose in my mind as to which came first, chicken or egg. The egg came first and went in as an omelette. I never considered bypassing the egg and biting into a chicken.

And then one holiday I went to Nellore(AP) to my friends place. Was going gaga over golti land and the farm we were staying in. I had always liked the spicy andhra food, now thrilled to be able to gorge in all the goodies for at least a week. Actively participated in chasing chickens thinking we were playing some sort of local sport. Only to be served at dinner a spicy, juicy preparation of the game. Moved by the aroma of spices and avoiding my mothers stare, i bit into a juicy leg piece(mustve been, cos a long bone stuck out). It was deeleeecious. I liked the tough nature, and the bloody feeling. Of biting into something other than veggies. I was hooked. Overnight i had shed my cured rice cloak and had become a carnivore. Or so i thought.

Then came meat at a community feast of a friends' wedding - it was a disappointment. Was tougher than chicken and didnt taste too juicy. Fish - I couldnt stand, the stench, even in a well prepared dish was too much for me to take. Then all sea food was out. For all the pride (misplaced) I claimed to be a non-vegetarian - i was justa chicken eater. Just chicken!

To play along with my friends (thats what you do when you drink) - some who were regular non-vegetarians, i used to order chicken. After a while it became chicken only in manchurian style. Chicken neatly covered in indo-chinese spices. My taste was moving towards the garnishings more than for the main dish. I was losing my carnivorous instincts, if i had had any to begin with.

Then came the last straw - on this trip. My pardner redefined what it meant to be a carnivore. A regular meal for him should have something that was now dead which used to move about. To him it completes a square meal. For me eating non-veg (read chicken) was a luxury, and when drinking. He would be disappointed if we landed up in an all vegetarian restaurant after a hard days ride. And when he was in a gluttonous mood even the bones would not be spared. I could never do that. And it doesnt matter if that creature used to fly, swim, or just graze about -after it was cooked properly - it would all go into his mouth with equal ease. And well appreciated.

I could never do that. In fact i never did that cos it never came naturally to me. I was just a curd rice freak trying to wolf down chickens. My mask is blown. I am back to where i started, only now bypassing the chicken and going to the omlettes. But happy to have taken a trip down the carnivorous lane. Curd rice! Here I come.

Bindhi Bindhi Bhang Bhang

After a long days ride, checked into a hotel in Jaisalmer. Was freshing up and as i looked up at the mirror from the basin - I noticed it. Again? Oh no. There it was, right next to the mirror - A bloated Red Period. I paused for a while.Who was this woman or women? And why were they going around putting up their Bindhis all over the country. Was This some kind of a joke being played on me?

For the last four months whichever Hotel, Lodge or Guesthouse i have been to - Its been there. A Dot (sometimes as big as a saucer), A mango motif, a rombhus or some other weird geometrical shape in a sticker form, on the mirror or right next to it. Varying colors from bright marroon to striking Yellow and occasinally a black bhindi. Why do these women discard this stricker in this advertising form? Was a it a compulsive habit of theirs or was it just a way of marking "Kilroy was here" with just a dot? I was flummoxed.

Or maybe, just maybe - someone was leaving a trail for me to find them! Now that was interesting. It wasnt me thinking this - but the bhang Lassi i had just had downed Jaisalmer doing its rounds - in my mind.And i was willing to go along. The Bindhis colors were changing, probably to co-ord with the beautiful ladys' Dress. (I have to assume such things - no point dreaming about a girl, thinking she could be a hunchback:) And so were the shapes of the Sticker. So this person was also had an aesthetic eye. And what beutiful eyes (again the bhang). And this person was intelligent too - Yes sir! She wasnt just going to be putting up the Bindhis right on the mirror or just next to it all the time. I remember, not finding any sticker at the guesthouse in Leh, and getting Disaapointed. Surprise of surprises - As i closed the door of the loo - there it was snuggly stuck up right in the corner - a flashing blue designer pottu*.

And she was playing hard to get - For the last four months to just stringing me along, a long and winding road without giving me a glimpse of herself. She must have some inside information. And i confronted my partner in this journey - asking him if he knew this girl. He said he might, but would not divulge any information(He too had bhang you see:).

I went to the big bindhi on the wall again - For the first time, after hessitating a long while, i touched it. Electric shock passed through me! I had by mistake touched a live wire. Got back to the Bindhi and felt the felt. And with one smooth move removed it from the wall. It came of smoothly - It was fresh, meaning the girl was still in town - In Jaisalmer. I rushed out of the Hotel thinking i could spot her. No luck. Rushed to the hotel manager and asked him if anyone checked out recently from the room we had checked into. No luck again.

Fondly feeling the velevet dot, i retired to my room. Defeated for now, but looking forward to the next big dot around the corner. Sooner or later Ms.Bindhi would be caught.

*Pottu - Bhindhi in Tamil