Solving the Gas Problem.

          “I have a gas problem,” said Bai Goanna. In Konkanni it sounded like she was suffering from the after-effects of indigestion. “Maakaa gyasaa cho problem zaalaa.”

          Shri Husband and I quickly rattled off some home-remedies that might give her relief from her abdominal discomfort, and save our olfactory organs from stealthy stinks. “Eat ‘wonh-wonh’,” we recommended. “Do pawan-mukt-asana, drink soda.” Shri Husband added some extra advice: “Go outside, go home, just go. And avoid eating ‘channa’.”

          Bai Goanna said: “Nothing wrong with my insides, men. You’re misunderstanding. I’m talking about the cylinder-subsidy problem.” She showed us an sms on her phone. It said she should ‘help nation building to give up subsidy...sms give it up to....” Someone had fouled up the meaning of the message by not putting a full-stop after building.

          “The government is trying to get rid of subsidies. Affording people should pay full price,” said Shri Husband logically.

          His logic has never worked with Bai Goanna. She has her own: “When each and every MP and MLA and high-ranking official gives up her/his subsidy, I’ll give up mine.”

          Shri Husband, readying to confront: “You could lead, set an example, do what’s correct no matter what the MPs-MLAs do.”

          Bai Goanna, pouting stubbornly: “I’m not giving it up.”

          Shri Husband: “The news said they’re raising the price of the cylinder again.”

          The discussion darted in a different direction, towards how/whether the subsidy would affect global climate change, how expensive everything was getting, and whether more people using more fuel would mean shortages in future. After reading Mansoor Khan’s ‘The Third Curve’, Bai Goanna’s perpetually afraid that she’ll starve to death when the Earth runs out of cooking fuel. “In just a few decades,” she whimpers. “I’ll be extinct.” Extinct-- her word, not mine.

          “Buy,” quoth Shri Husband loftily, “a solar-cooker.”

          Bai Goanna raised her eyebrows questioningly at him.

          “Ask her,” guided Shri Husband pointing his chin towards me.

          He was allowing me to talk. I wasn’t giving up that chance.

          I said: “It’s a wooden, black, insulated square box in which fit four cooking vessels, with lids, made of aluminium.  The vessels and lids are also painted black on the outside.  The square box has two thick glass covers and there’s a mirror which reflects sunlight through them onto the vessels. Concentrates the rays.”

          “Did you own one?” she asked.

          Shri Husband interrupted: “She used it in Hindon, Avantipur, Jodhpur, Bareilly…”

          Bai Goanna wanted to know what I was “doing in those unheard-of places”.

          I confessed that I’d set up home(s) and kitchen(s) in remote corners of the country where gas was a luxury, sun abundant.

          “How do you cook in that?” she asked when I showed her a picture of a basic solar-cooker.

          “With water,” I said matter-of-factly. “I used to boil and bake in it. Give the ‘phodnni’ later.”

          “How long did it take?”

          “Depends on the sun’s heat, yaar, takes 3-4 hours, sometimes more,” Shri Husband has no patience. “And depends on the season. You can’t cook when it’s raining or cloudy.”

          “Then what do you do?”

          Shri Husband, with patience running thin: “Then you use the gas, with or without subsidy.”

          I could feel a squabble coming up, so I told her one amusing incident: “… monkey came one afternoon… saw the brinjal roasting inside… couldn’t get through the glass… got startled by and couldn’t touch the hot metal frame… stared for a while… left disappointed.”

          “You mean it was kept outside?” Only Bai Goanna can ask such stupid questions.

          “No,” said Shri Husband sarcastically. Only he can be mean and not give a proper answer. “Inside our wardrobe.”

          After a debate on the merits and otherwise of using solar-powered gadgets, we returned to the subject at hand: the subsidy-removal of our domestic LPG cylinders. We meandered and went on to discuss whether all subsidies harmed the country. Taxes for new industrial areas, railway fares, etc.