Which Came First - The Fish Or The Egg?

Jaya was at her friend’s house - it was a haven of unique and interesting experiences for her. They were culturally almost from a different planet, being from the north-east part of India. They worshipped God with much blowing of conch shells, rather than the peal of the bells that heralded prayer in Jaya's house. The attire was different too, Aditya's father usually wore a long kurta

a kind of knee-length shirt with open full length sleeves.

, so different from the lungi

a long cloth wound around the waist sarong style

that her own father affected at home.



Then the food,- even the smell was different, mustard oil being substituted for the groundnut oil that formed the basis of south-Indian cooking. The vegetables were more gravy based and rich with spices like cardamom and cinnamon. Then too, they often had fish, something unheard of in the strictly vegetarian household Jaya lived in. Normally even eggs would not be part of that culinary repertoire, but Jaya's mother had somehow convinced her father-in-law that these were as 'vegetarian' as milk, as long as they were unfertilized.



Jaya cast another furtive glance at the pot simmering on the stove, she had seen all the stages of preparation of the dish - from the cleaning and filleting to the grinding of the paste for the gravy. Rather than being moved to disgust or distaste by the unfamiliarity, she was fascinated and brimming with a burning curiosity. It was fed to a frenzied level by the memory of her father's numerous admonitions to never eat anything non-vegetarian.



Sabita Aunty caught the repeated expectant looks, "Jaya, would you like to stay for dinner?"



Eager anticipation lit up Jaya's nodding smile of acquiescence.



It took just a moment for Sabita to call up her friend and explain matters, the two discussed the tricky issue of how to feed the child and satisfy her inquiring and exploring mind while not offending the cultural sentiments of the elders at Jaya's house.



Two heads are better than one, especially if the two belong to canny mothers and the one to a trusting child.



Jaya tucked into her fish curry, relishing the soft flesh of the fillets. It was bland and just a little salty, wallowing in a thick creamy tomato and onion based gravy. The whole made a satisfying complement to the thin unleavened pita bread served with it. She barely looked at or tasted the yoghurt salad or rice, she could get something like that at home, any time.



She did not notice that her portions were doled out of a different serving dish than that used for Aditya or his father.



She mopped up the last bits of gravy with some pita bread and leaned back in satisfaction, one hand making little motions of rubbing an incipient replete abdomen. The resulting burp was loud and startled Aditya into a surprised laugh. Her muttered excuses were brushed off as natural after a full meal.



It was a content child who came home that day. Her mother got an extra hug and a murmured thanks for allowing her this forbidden treat.



"But, you know what Mummy? I think even vegetables would have tasted as good in that lovely gravy, all the taste came from that. The fish was almost tasteless in itself."



She could not see her grandfather in the deep sofa at the window, her continuing discoveries were turning him red with indignation.



Jaya's mother gave her daughter an indulgent pat on her back and shooed her away to her room with an admonishment to finish getting her school satchel ready for the next day before retiring to bed. She would check on her in ten minutes, but for now she had to stem the tide of wrath that awaited her in the living room.



"Padma, what on earth has Jaya been eating?" The old man was just one step short of a sputtering apoplexy.



"It is OK. Sabita and I talked it over. The more one forbids a child to do something, the more they will find ways to do it. So she made a thin omelet and cut that up into the same size pieces as the fish they had cooked. She made the same gravy for it and served it to her. Now Jaya has no more curiosity and will accept vegetables cooked the Oriya way as all the variety she needs."



The storm faded from the lined face, to be replaced by a dawning comprehension of the wiles of the two mothers.



"Never underestimate a woman," he murmured, almost to himself.



Jaya was fast asleep when her mother went up to her room, covers drawn up to her neck, her face cradled upon one small hand, a half-smile of dreamy happiness on the angelic countenance. Her mother turned off the light with a satisfied smile of her own.



We will both remember this dining experience for years to come, I wonder which one of us will relish it more?





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