Egg Curry

I am a vegetarian by choice. I have had my fill of meat and fish and relished the fare. I had even given up eating eggs. But one hungry evening, with nothing in the fridge except eggs, I realised it was silly to give up on them.

The nicest thing about eating eggs is that even a roadside eatery will have them – scrambled, poached, curried, and what-have-you – on the menu. No matter what the hour, the one item on the menu that will appear on the table almost immediately after the order is placed, is the egg.

One late evening after work, a few of my colleagues and I decided to go out for dinner. As the friend who was giving us this unexpected largesse put it, “A no star restaurant for the working class,” which meant either the restaurant suited us or we did. Since he was going to foot the bill, we enthusiastically agreed.

The restaurant, with cramped spaces and narrow seats, had everything from fish to meat to even crabs on its menu. Every item on the menu was ordered. I looked for something vegetarian. There wasn't any. Sure enough, the egg -- the golden yellow instant meal -- was there on the menu as my saviour. I placed my order. Egg curry. Sure, said the waiter. My friend laughed aloud. “Only you can think of egg curry at night in a restaurant famous for its fish and crabs.” I had a lot to say to that, but since he was the host for the evening, I decided to clench my teeth and smile graciously.

In no less than a few minutes the egg curry, dark brown and thick, arrived on my table. While everyone around was chewing on the meat and the crab, I sampled my egg curry. It was delicious. I was almost at the end of my meal when I found something unfamiliar in the curry. I picked it up and examined it. It was a tiny bone.

I called the waiter. “Why is there a bone in the egg curry?” He looked at me surprised. “The curry is meat gravy. We just ladle the gravy and put in boiled eggs into it.”

The harsh crescendo of my horrible, generous host’s laughter still rings in my ear. I don’t order egg in restaurants any more.

A `Pest’

I haven’t visited my blog for some time. I began writing it as a friend thought I should spend my time doing something other than talking. Once I began writing the blog, I found it quite enjoyable. But I am not given to a discipline. So I write when I feel like or when my friend prods me.

My friend takes much delight daily in this one question -- "So, no more posts?" My standard response to that has been, "Will write." But this pest, my friend, refuses to take no for an answer. “Can’t you write,” he goes. “I CAN,” I want to scream but since the luxury of a chat allows one’s emotions to be masked, I say, no thoughts as of now. “Good”, is the sarcastic response.

Here, pest. I am doing something better than `talking’.

It is a blessing, I realize, to have friends who can infuse confidence, hope in you and not give up ever. Even a pest like this one I know.