Zen and the art of making arhar ki dal - Part I

Zen and the art of making arhar ki dal - Part I

I started writing this series some days back..it lost steam somewhere along the way. Dosent seem like its going anywhere in a hurry right now.

Once upon a time there were only hamburgers and pizzas in a troubled land far far away. Al was sick of eating hamburgers. He longed for arhar ki dal, wish just a dash of heeng (asetofida for the initiated) and a gentle caress of zeera. He fantasized about the rich texture, colour and taste of dal. At night he would lie in bed and stare at the ceiling thinking of how it would be eat dal again.

Then one day while wandering around town Al saw a small shop with a brightly lit facade. It had red shingles and a neon sign which said 'Indian supplies'. Feeling a strange calm and sense of deja-vu he walked into the shop. Row upon row of dals and Indian supplies stared him on the face. Al was stunned, speechless. He hurriedly snatched at packets of dal with reckless abandon and lurched to the check out counter. An old man grinned a toothless smile from behind the cash register. He had large ears and a stoop which had bent him almost double.

"Then dal is what you need today" he said with a kind smile. A small little teardrop rolled down Al's cheek. He stuttered and the words caught in his throat. The old man smiled. "Then dal must you take. Many men , struggled they have to capture the essence of making dal.". He coughed, but contiued "Find you will on the packet instructions, but to satisfy your craving,, inside yourself must you look. Only true if you are shall you make dal such as you desire." It wasnt everyday that people spoke to Al thus. He nodded briefly, paid his money and left.

Now Al had the means to make dal. But he lacked the wisdom and the courage to embark on that path. The words of the old man echoed in his mind. Three days passed till he could bring himself to look at the packets again. He finally mustered enough courage and reached out for a packet. A searing image flashed across his mind and he recoiled. A voice inside him cried "Fool..you shall never make dal. Forgot the last time?". Now theres something about Al you should know. He had once dared to make dal before. The experience had left him badly scarred. Nausea washed over him like a relentless wave, and he fell.

To be continued.