“Egg main aur egg tu….dono mile iss
tarah….aur jo tann-mann mein ho raha hai, ye toh hona hi tha!” My dear
fowls (folks), I have a confession to make tonight. Yes, right. Confession. And
the confession is that EGGS drive me crazy and how! After having eggs, I tend
to lose control on my nerves, behave erratically and sometimes just ramble on. I
can’t even get a song right whenever I am five-six eggs down. You must have
seen for yourself how I struggled through the lyrics of a popular Hindi song in
the first line of this paragraph. Tonight, my fowls, I am high on 14 eggs and feeling
a little inEGGriated. While my senses
are a little eggy now, I want to
seize the moment by declaring my love for what I reckon is a blessing for
mankind – Egg.
I am
not worried or in the least bit embarrassed that people will judge me after this
rambling tonight. I know I may wake up tomorrow with egg on my face. Some prudes (vegetarians) may scoff at me but what
the heck! It’s a small price that I will pay to connect with hundreds of fellow
egg-lovers on social media. They would definitely understand and relate to my
emotions. Frankly speaking, I don’t give a chicken’s arse what the other half
will think. And anyway, someone has rightly said that you can’t make an omelette without breaking an egg. So, let it be.
My
love for eggs began when I was a child. So young I couldn’t even boil an egg to save my life. Today, I
can’t thank my parents enough for initiating me into eggs. But the love was
never this intense. It evolved with time and age. In fact, my fascination and
love for eggs started with hate first. When I was a kid, my dad would mix egg-yolk
into my milk and then ask me to gulp it down without creating a scene. His
rationale was that it was healthy for growing kids. Though I would buy his
theory, I used to find the pungent smell of raw egg-yolk repulsive. For my parents, I proved to be a tough egg to crack. They would have hard time dealing with my tantrums. Then
my mom came up with a solution. She asked me to drink my glass of milk (with
egg yolk) with my nose pressed closed. Sensing I didn’t have much of a choice,
I would meekly follow the instructions. Though it took some time, I developed a
taste for raw eggs in my milk.
The
next wave came when, a few months later, we started getting one boiled egg
daily with our breakfast. I took an instant liking to them when they would be
served piping hot with chatpata
masala sprinkled over generously. I was amazed to learn that raw eggs, if
boiled, can result into such a tasteful delicacy. Also, it was the time when, like
every other kid, I used to think for long hours about the chicken and egg situation. And like every other kid, I never
reached any conclusion as to which of the two existed first and which caused
the other.
In
due course of time, I was introduced to omelette in different forms – Fried omelette, Half-fried (sunny-side up), Spinach
Omelette, Iranian Omelette, French Omelette, Greek Omelette and, of course
the very own, Indian Omelette. Also,
I think the list will be incomplete if I do not add the mouth-watering Bhurji (Scrambled eggs) to it.
I
remember quite vividly how during my primary schooling, I had fooled one of my
best friends, Ashish Pandey – a
vegetarian, into believing that eggs which I would get from home were not
begotten from fowls but from machines in factories. I had to do this because
otherwise he would not partake of my egg
bhurjis and omelettes. He developed
a liking for the eggs soon and I would happily share my lunch-box with him for
years to come. He did feel bad for some time when I confronted him with the
truth one day but that was that. Today, after all these years, our bonding has
become even stronger. We recall that episode with great delight and just laugh
it away.
Today,
I may have graduated to Chicken and Mutton but the love for eggs is simply
unparalleled. For a long time now, my favourite advertisements have been the ones
by NECC that have beautiful lyrics “Sunday
ho ya Monday, Roz Khao Andey” and I hate, even to this day, that story where the stupid and
greedy guy killed the goose that laid the golden egg.
Sometimes
I romance with the idea of investing all my savings one day into owning a huge poultry
farm spread over many acres on the suburbs. I will then have an uninterrupted
supply of eggs. Of course, managing thousands of fowls would be a tough task
and having all of them creaking non-stop would be a nuisance but that is ok.
After all, he that would have eggs must
endure the cackling of hens.
On
other days, I daydream of living it up in my ideal world where there is
abundance of eggs, no bird flu and easy availability of good chefs who know how
to experiment with eggs. I am sure such a society can never have a bad egg (dishonest man) and all the good eggs (agreeable & helpful men) will
have equal and enough opportunities to flourish in life. I almost begin to revel
in that surroundings but, more often than not, the worldly things and duties
bring me back to the real world and add to my frustration. Frustration of
living in a world where epidemics like bird flu can break out any time. Bird flu means culling of fowls. No fowls means
no eggs! For an egg-lover like me, this is only next to world coming to an end.
Such a thought sends chill through my spine and I forsake thoughts of investing
in poultry farm. How can I risk putting all
my eggs in one basket?
(Deep silence for 20 minutes.)
On
second thoughts, I think I spoke too much tonight. Excess of everything is bad.
Isn’t it? We shouldn’t over-egg our
pudding if we really want to enjoy it. I suddenly realize my fascination
for eggs is bordering on obsession because I just observed that most of my
sentences had idiomatic expressions related only to eggs. Hey fowls, I
suggest you stay away from eggs else you might become my reflection. Wait a
second…..when did I become observant? And how come I am sounding preachy? Guess
the drugs (rich intake of eggs) are wearing off and my faculties are returning
to normalcy. I think I will stop now. You all are educated, intelligent,
seasoned and sound people. Preaching you will be like teaching your grandmother how to suck eggs. Gosh! This is going out
of hand now. I think I am walking on eggs
at the moment.
Hope
you liked this blog. If yes, then three loud cheers and numerous eggs to life!
If not, I frankly don’t give a chicken’s arse. Go fry an egg!
