Of pots and pans and this and that …
Observational humor can be pretty omniscient if you’re not careful. This weekend, when I finally decided to rid our kitchen (so called solely because of my cheese omelet exploits) of the various forms of bio-diversity that had accumulated on the shelf, I was struck by the unique shape of the packet of milk which Fapasha had brought last weekend. At this point I must digress and inform the patient reader (which in the current context is pretty much you) that it is one of the unbroken rules of nature that whoever comes over to my place considers it his / her (the use of the ‘her’ is just for the sake of conformity to modern writing styles and has little bearing to ground realities) sacred duty to leave something behind. Thus it was that Fapasha left behind the packet of milk which had since expanded and was close to bursting point. I bet you didn’t know that milk packets when left unopened just go on expanding; but then that’s how your knowledge increases and you grow old and have silver hair. I did not feel any particular interest in finding out what happens next in the interests of HSE compliance, which as you all know, is above bottom-line considerations, and I therefore threw out the article.
Come to think of it, I think I have one of the most comprehensive empirical information databases as to what happens to different varieties of food when they go bad. I remember during my engineering college and NT days, we used to observe a tandoori roti which had somehow found its way to the lawn, and which just refused to disintegrate. The multifarious fauna within NT had long since given up trying to eat Dining Hall food so it was upto good ol’ mother nature. We never really saw that roti decompose, it just sort of crumbled into nothingness; returned to the darkness from whence it had sprung. But then that was D.H. food – solid level stuff, that. IIMB food was super psood food in comparison and I loved it (waistline bears lasting testimony yet) and such was the case with most junta from engineering colleges. United in this common bond of engineering college frugality, the engineer – MBA at IIMB rolls his sleeves and loads himself / herself (though more applicable for the ‘himself’, again) way past the plimsol line. “What food!’ is the common refrain. Dayskis from ‘delicate’ places like Mumbai, Delhi and Calcutta also exclaim ‘What food!’ but in a totally different context.
To come to the gently undercurrent motif of this post (bet you didn’t note that), the collection of stuff people have left behind is fairly interesting. Sainag Chakravarty left behind a Santa Claus cap, under a mattress, which Sajju Jilani then tried his best to iron out of existence beneath his considerable spare tire for 2 whole months, without any significant progress. This same Sajju Jilani, did not bother with forgetting stuff when he was done with his Mumbai internship. He only picked up stuff he wanted to take, default option being that stuff was left behind – to dissipate into oblivion at leisure. This kind of strategy can also be very risky as another unnamed friend found out when he left behind a packet of love letters (muahahhahahahhahahha). I suppose that they must have been extremely good reading material, especially from a third person dispassionately-interested-friend point of view; being an honourable sort of guy, I of course did not read anything beyond the preliminary salutations which in themselves were sufficient case taking matter to last several generations, if used with care and consideration.
I could have gone on further, only I’ve come across a writer’s block – there is a power cut and the laptop battery is about to kick the bucket .. ah well!
Observational humor can be pretty omniscient if you’re not careful. This weekend, when I finally decided to rid our kitchen (so called solely because of my cheese omelet exploits) of the various forms of bio-diversity that had accumulated on the shelf, I was struck by the unique shape of the packet of milk which Fapasha had brought last weekend. At this point I must digress and inform the patient reader (which in the current context is pretty much you) that it is one of the unbroken rules of nature that whoever comes over to my place considers it his / her (the use of the ‘her’ is just for the sake of conformity to modern writing styles and has little bearing to ground realities) sacred duty to leave something behind. Thus it was that Fapasha left behind the packet of milk which had since expanded and was close to bursting point. I bet you didn’t know that milk packets when left unopened just go on expanding; but then that’s how your knowledge increases and you grow old and have silver hair. I did not feel any particular interest in finding out what happens next in the interests of HSE compliance, which as you all know, is above bottom-line considerations, and I therefore threw out the article.
Come to think of it, I think I have one of the most comprehensive empirical information databases as to what happens to different varieties of food when they go bad. I remember during my engineering college and NT days, we used to observe a tandoori roti which had somehow found its way to the lawn, and which just refused to disintegrate. The multifarious fauna within NT had long since given up trying to eat Dining Hall food so it was upto good ol’ mother nature. We never really saw that roti decompose, it just sort of crumbled into nothingness; returned to the darkness from whence it had sprung. But then that was D.H. food – solid level stuff, that. IIMB food was super psood food in comparison and I loved it (waistline bears lasting testimony yet) and such was the case with most junta from engineering colleges. United in this common bond of engineering college frugality, the engineer – MBA at IIMB rolls his sleeves and loads himself / herself (though more applicable for the ‘himself’, again) way past the plimsol line. “What food!’ is the common refrain. Dayskis from ‘delicate’ places like Mumbai, Delhi and Calcutta also exclaim ‘What food!’ but in a totally different context.
To come to the gently undercurrent motif of this post (bet you didn’t note that), the collection of stuff people have left behind is fairly interesting. Sainag Chakravarty left behind a Santa Claus cap, under a mattress, which Sajju Jilani then tried his best to iron out of existence beneath his considerable spare tire for 2 whole months, without any significant progress. This same Sajju Jilani, did not bother with forgetting stuff when he was done with his Mumbai internship. He only picked up stuff he wanted to take, default option being that stuff was left behind – to dissipate into oblivion at leisure. This kind of strategy can also be very risky as another unnamed friend found out when he left behind a packet of love letters (muahahhahahahhahahha). I suppose that they must have been extremely good reading material, especially from a third person dispassionately-interested-friend point of view; being an honourable sort of guy, I of course did not read anything beyond the preliminary salutations which in themselves were sufficient case taking matter to last several generations, if used with care and consideration.
I could have gone on further, only I’ve come across a writer’s block – there is a power cut and the laptop battery is about to kick the bucket .. ah well!
posted by Faiz at
11:54 PM
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6 Comments
