I must admit at the outset, that there is one thing which I can do without in life – and that is curds. I often wondered how a normal sort of human being can actually relish a blob of white stuff, rather loosely held together with a smell that would drive Calvin Klein crazy.
But I have noted that it is only me and not the rest of humanity which detests the stuff wholeheartedly. The dislike for curds began at age of two, when an eager parent tried to shove the foul, smelly thing into my baby mouth. Even an unformed nostril picked up the smell which should be rated just above animal waste material and just below that of a garbage dump.
I have not had that insult to the stomach since that day. We are divorced, the curd and I.
I have been often lectured on the benefits of curds and how it helps your body maintain whatever it maintains. I believe that it has a lot of good properties and acts as a pro-biotic which is essential for all those who indulge in the finer things of life, like food and alcohol of choice.
I have heard other legendary tales about it which didn’t move me a bit. Having spent a large portion of my life in the sun-baked sands of the Middle East I have learnt that it actually helps you save money.
Follow me closely here. Say I am earning around 30,000 rupees in the Gulf of which 20,000 goes in rent, electricity, transport etc. The remaining 10,000 is used for daily expenses and believe me it won’t last for 15 days.
So our clever Indian brethren have found out that a meal consisting of rice and curd can provide enough nutrition on a daily basis. This costs almost nothing. This means that the simple curd has helped many people build big houses back home.
However, nothing will move me to take on this food. Let it be.
I believe the stuff is very popular in the southern part of the country. With due apologies, I have been shown some chaps having its variation, the buttermilk, with rice right off their elbows.
The twist and the deft handwork have often reminded me of Shane Warne and his googlies.
The unerring accuracy with which the gooey thing slides down the arm and into the mouth is simply amazing to watch. I would strongly recommend the Indian selectors to pick the next leg-spinner from this lot. They will serve Indian cricket well.
It seems like that it now becoming a family affair. My two nieces refuse to touch the stuff, no doubt proving genes do matter.
And day by day, my dislike for the thing grows. It has reached such a stage that it has made me paranoid. I even dream curds now. The other day, I was floating in a huge tub of yoghurt, nauseated, and was woken up by the alarm in the nick of time.
I still shudder to think what would have happened if I had drowned.
I wish to be in another universe, as the late Steven Hawking would say, where there is No Curds. It a dream, a sort of wishful thinking but who knows, Hawking knew what he was talking about.
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