Sunday afternoon. My favourite blogging time. I've just had the most smack-worthy lunch - rice, curd and vadu maanga. I love that combination. It's simple. It's tasty and I feel good after eating it. A couple of things came up today that I thought were interesting. Things about myself of course :)
Being vegetarian in my family is one of those things that will leave you feeling like a circus freak show. You have no idea! When I was around two and just beginning to eat more 'interesting' things that my mother discovered that I threw up every time I ate meat. Well, chicken to be more specific. That's the version I know anyway. After much thought and debate - small aside, my folks are very privacy uncaring, if somethings happened then it is everyone's business - I was taken to my pediatrician to see if there was a problem. Never occurred to the folks to just stop giving me meat, no had to take me to a doc and figure out the problem. Up until then, I was not known to reject food. I was a nice, fat, gundu baby! My USP as a baby was eating, rejecting food? oh the horror! Definitely a point to ponder!
So, my doc tells the family that I could be allergic to meat and there I was vegetarian by natural selection, probably one of the very few in the world! But since then, food at home has been a ride through hell an back. See, my family, I love them to pieces but still, is the kind that is loud, verbose, involved and food-loving! Sunday lunches, before people got married and moved countries on work, etc, were big huge affairs. My grandmother, my mother,my mother's brother and 2 sisters and my grandfather would be busy deciding the menu, go buy fish or whatever it is that you non-vegetarian people eat and cook.
The house on those Sundays smelt like rotting garbage. I hated that at the end of the gargantuan task that was cleaning, cutting and cooking dead stuff people ate it. The smell hung around in the air. Your hands smelled from cutting and cleaning and you sat down and ate it like it was God's own hand involved in the making of that food. But this is why I hate non-vegetarian food, I never got anything to eat. I mean it. When we were ready to sit down and eat, my mother and everyone else got this sheepish look on their faces that said, we forgot. My grandfather was all upset that no one remembered. Someone always said, if only she ate the food we did, it'd be easier. Yeah, some deep-rooted angst right there!
But, things got really uncomfortable. For some strange reason, this country, which is touted oas some vegetarian Hindu exoticland, does not serve vegetarian food with a lot of conviction. My mother told me that if I didn't eat eggs or chicken gravy or even biriyani rice, I would have a hard time adjusting. So this is me, vegetarian, eats eggs, can deal with chicken/mutton gravy and chicken/mutton biriyani rice. It's amazing how food habits define you no?