One of the notable aspects of my life occurs when people who know I have a Kerala origin and genes to match learn that I am a vegetarian.
For almost all non-Kerala folks, these two are entirely incongruous and cannot happen simultaneously at least in one individual (in the same lifetime).
The tendency is then to do the following 4 things, in sequential order:
a) I am sized up, examined with raised eyebrows and assigned a sub-species name such as Homo Sapiens Malu-bogus. They all want to now see if those veggies have done something to the way I pronounce coconut or quickly or corner or braandy. None of them can pronounce Malampuzha or Thondimuthalum Driksakshiyum to save their life, so I see this as downright seditious.
b) They ask me when I became veggie. I once thought of employing a call centre to answer this question, but that was before I read Snappy Answers to Stupid Questions, which is the only guide you need to deep existential issues.
Question: When did you become veggie?
Inspirational answer (since you have now read above book): “I became veggie the year the ring worm shifted residence from pig faeces to human intestines.” Keep serious, introspective expression.
This answer is greeted by a surprised silence (though a couple of folks will come close to throwing up, so do not attempt this at home). Some, who have not experienced a real call centre and hence are unspoilt by civilisation, then ask, “Which year was that?’ to which, of course, you must reply with, “The year I became veggie.” And, then promise yourself a Corner House Ice cream.
c) They – almost always - earnestly plod me on to try non-veggie stuff at least once. The tactic here (forgive the advice mode again) is to fully agree that, yes, we need to try it and that Life is all about excitement, adventure and ringworm side effects, but could I please use the washroom now? Once you enter the washroom, do watch Sholay on your mobile Netflix account from beginning to end, missing no detail however slight and rewinding the songs. Hopefully, when you are back, the topic would be Should We Call the Doctor and the division of the bill.
d) And finally, I am asked if there is any real Malu food that is veggie, while they order appam-and-stew and steamed banana, all of which I suppose they think is grown inside a goat. The ones who ask this question with a smirk deserve solitary confinement on Easter Island. Others really want to know, for Indians have an urge (it is scientifically proven to border on mania) to accumulate information of absolutely no value to themselves. These were moments when I would forget the names of everything that I have eaten all my life and stutter for credibility but I now ask the person to ask Ramu kaka or Google chacha, for the subject is vast and nuanced (a word everybody uses these days, when they don’t say like or bro or dude or herd immunity).
The key, I have learnt - after considered thought - is to put on a certain condescending authority when you answer: that disdain is the difference between your success and mutton keema curry.
