Turning Vegetarian.

          My friend, Bai Goanna, invited me over for a meal.

          “I’ve turned vegetarian,” I said.

          “Naheee!!” came the instant response, as she raised her chin, shut her eyes and put hand to forehead, palm facing outward, hai-mera-naseeb-style. “Since when? Why? How did this happen? Can’t you postpone it?”

          Bai Goanna couldn’t comprehend why I’d want to change my food habits. “I mean, you’ve always loved animals, and a good steak or fish curry hadn’t diminished your love for them in many years. So what’s gone wrong? Why?”

“No reason. Just like that,” I said. “Took the decision a few days ago. I’d been contemplating going green and unfleshing the food for a while now. Finally I’ve taken the decision and the plunge.”

          Bai Goanna’s brows furrowed further (whether in anxiety or annoyance I couldn’t decipher). After a moment’s silence, came a kind question: “Have you developed some allergies?”

“Nope,” I said.

“Adopted a religious guru?”

“Na-a,” I said, followed in a moment by Shri Husband’s interruption: ‘hahaha’.

“Got some dreaded disease then? Developed an allergy maybe?”

“Still in the pink of health,” I retorted.

“Any sense of guilt?” Bai Goanna like all good friends, was trying to play counsellor. “Or maybe you want a wish to be granted?”

“What’s the connection?” I asked.

“People do that – turn vegetarian-- when they want a spouse/ job/ children. Going to temples is an added bonus.” (At this, there was more ‘hahaha’ from Shri Husband, this time louder and directed at the wall).

Bai Goanna isn’t the kind to give up. More questions followed: “Fully vegetarian? I mean, will you eat fish? Will eggs be ok?”

“Fully vegetarian, anything non-v will not be seen on my plate henceforth,” I confirmed, adding, “unfertilized vegetarian eggs won’t do.”

“Onions?” Bai Goanna is a true-blue Indian, so with ‘strict’ vegetarianism in mind, had progressed to the minutiae.

“Onions are ok, and garlic, too. Sprouts are ok, underground roots and stems are fine, I’m not into extreme vegetarianism yet, just off non-vegetarian foods.”

“What about milk products?”

“They’re fine, I’ll graduate to vegan later, maybe, but for now it’s simple vegetarianism.”

For the next couple of minutes Bai Goanna and I discussed whether the word non-vegetarian was appropriate for someone who ate only vegetables (fruits, pulses and cereals, too, may I add). We also argued whether it was fair to assume that plant didn’t feel pain because they didn’t bleat/moo.  

We talked of prices. Was I going to save a lot? Not really, because vellyo, mannke, prawns, tarley, lepem were cheaper than even onions most days. Was I going to lose calories? Who knew… the more I lost the better, we agreed. Would this change of diet cleanse my system? Some streams of medicine believed so... though just what would be cleaned out and what would remain inside the body was unclear. Would it change my behaviour? Possibly: might make me look longingly at food I liked and promised not to consume.

Discipline, Bai Goanna emphasised, is the key to all weirdness.

Shri Husband, thus far sitting uncharacteristically quiet, eavesdropping nonetheless, butted in: “What about days of the week? Are you going to be extra vegetarian on Mondays and Saturdays? Lenient on Wednesdays and Sundays? Any particular deity you want to appease? Choose menu accordingly.”

Bai Goanna was now both concerned and confused. “This is complicated. I mean, will you avoid eating tamarind and tomatoes on Fridays? What about milk products on Thursdays? Any restriction on rice or wheat? Calling you over for a meal is going to be difficult. I would need to keep a time-table with your dos and don’ts.”

“Not at all,” I replied. “I mean, now all you have to do is chop some leaves, peel a fruit or two and my meal’s done. You could cook up daal-rice to keep the pangs away. Or give me a slice of bread.”

“Yeast-in-bread,” mumbled Shri Husband. “Non-veg or veg? Decide.”

Bai Goanna cut him short: “Don’t carry things to an extreme.” Then, turning to me said: “But for typical Goan spread, I need to put on the table prawns humann or chicken xacuti … with mushrooms it doesn’t taste the same.. and fried fish, no?”

“Try moonga-gathi, alsandey tonnak, jackfruit-seeds cooked dry, raw-bananas with black peas, kismors with crushed papads, sanndge with gourds, khatkhatey, kholmbo, there’s a world of great dishes out there. Come Shravan and the vegetarian goodies simmer in pots.”

“But you love sorportel and vindaloo. If I make those vegetarian, I’ll have to retire from cooking. Think of biryani. The Moghuls took pains to develop that recipe. If you want me to make it with peas and carrots, they’ll turn over in their graves (Moghuls, she meant, not peas and carrots). Worse, we’ll be ruining the history of south-east-Asian sub-continental cuisine.” Help, I thought, where does she derive these long-long words from?

The result of my declaring change of food-preference is that some acquaintances are scouring the net for buttermilk-pancakes and long-forgotten grandmom’s recipes like pumpkin-bharta. Others are asking me whether I had anything to do with eggs going off the mid-day meals scheme in some faraway state (if I had that kind of political influence… if only).

Shri Husband, on the go to have the last word, said after Bai Goanna left: “Where’s the need to advertise your vegetarianism? From what’s put on the table, eat or avoid what you want. Such natak over a simple issue.”

We’re not talking to each other again. Don’t know how long the peace will last.

Feedback: sheelajaywant@yahoo.co.in