My White Elephants

Inspired by Cup of Ice, I began to think about white elephants in my life. Now, as I begin wrapping up operations from my parental house, I have started drawing out the white elephants I have been collecting and pushing into my attic room.

For starters, there is cupboard filled choc-o-block with books. These figure in my white elephant list since there are several ones which are gems of literature which I have not opened to read even once. Over years, some of them have disintegratedl the remainder my mom plans to give away.

Electronic gadgets occupy the biggest chunk of 'wasted money'. Since an early age, I have been saving up pocket money (back in college) and a couple of salaries to lay my hands on the shiny objects of desire. In most cases, looks have been deceptive, with little VFM (value-for-money). These gadgets, even past their life, continue to reside in my drawer as reminders to the money I wasted on them.

Next in line are the largest space-hoarders - clothes. Oh yes. I have loads of them, most of them reminiscent of my college days when I was a size 1 and my mom would get me a new piece of clothing once every week, if not more. Ended up, I could go without repeating the same top for upto 3 months! In hope that I will shed my weight of several gained kilos and squeeze into these clothes again, they continue to occupy 2 cupboards-full, one of which was poached upon once my brother left to study.

Of these, several pieces are now up for donation to cousins, less-privileged in the villages etc. But this activity comes to pass in my absence under the scrutiny of my mother. I cannot yet bear the pain to see those lovely scrumptious clothes taken away. Even if I can't wear them now, or won't probably ever manage again, its a satisfying experience to touch them, transfer them from one packet of clothing to another, iron out the creases with my palm, and relive the memories attached to them.

Now, as I prepare to ink a fresh chapter in my life, it is best to tear off some of these redundant pages.

Last Meal

Since it would be my last meal, for a change I would not have to care about my body refusing the heaps I am piling into it. I'd prefer to have a feast of traditional food with my cousins and other other relatives. As is traditional in my community, we will sit about a large plate, and gobble a sweet dish alternating with a savoury dish. Start with a tiny dish of sweetened rice, some chicken rolls, peach souffle, full chicken tandoor which will come wrapped in aluminium foil so that its smoky hot when we open it.
There will be a wishbone found by one of us; since its my last meal, I will have no other wish to make. So two other cousins will have a small wrestle with the wishbone. That put aside, we will now dig into the side-dish of bhel, salad and other munchies.
Meanwhile, the other relatives come about enquiring if we are enjoying the food, want another helping of the chicken dish, which we greedily agree. The cold drinks are already popped open, so conversations are heating up.
The next dish is a coconut and lychee shorbet. Although I am no fan of lychee, I enjoy the sweetness of the item overall. Now comes the leg of goat, what is also commonly known as raan in Hindi. The mutton is soft and tender so that it tears into shreds as we try to break it into smaller morsels and share. It melts in the mouth, and leaves a lingering mint flavour which stays in the mouth long after the entire meal is over.
Now comes the climaxing sweet dish, a plate of kaju katli, pedhas, motichur laddoos, besan laddoos, bondi laddoos and coconut barfi. We all eat these to our hearts content, but some still is left in the dish. We place it below the thaal, for getting back to it later. As the drums begin to roll, now comes the main dish - rice with two curries. One is a green thai curry, the other is manchurian red curry. Both have crispies and little chunks of meat. We devour 3 plates of these, pushing them down the gullet with soda to create space for the more food to follow.
By now the thaal is quite a mess; so the caterer has it picked away, and brings us a fresh thaal. Meanwhile, we have washed our hands and are lazing about nibbling on the fresh fruits and rich dry fruits. This gastronomic delight lasts for just under an hour. We are then given magai paans on toothpicks. I put the paan in my mouth, and then begin to get up. My cousin brother comes by my side, and helps me on my feet. I walk 3 steps and collapse, with a smile playing upon my red-stained lips.