GODS Vs. GOURMETS

“I will buy with you, sell with you, talk with you,walk with you, and so following, but I will not eatwith you, drink with you, nor pray with you.” (Shylock, The Merchant of Venice)

Of course Shylock was grandstanding. We see him push off to “feed upon the prodigal Christian.” Perhaps he would stuff himself with the bread paid for by his hostile clients, to deplete their wealth. Little drops of water make the mighty ocean.

This evening we ate almost like Shylock. An informal get together of teachers (with or without family) and staffers. A few students, too. Patterned along the lines of the Islamic breaking of the daylong fast, it took off the moment the resonating voice of an unknown muezzin hit our ears. (George Berkeley should have present to tell us if the sound was caused by the ear or vice versa!). We gulped down lemonade and tasted some grapes and melons. We waited in patience while five or six practicing Muslims performed namaz on the stage. Of course we weren’t sitting bolt upright contemplating a secular India: fragrance hanging in the air vetted appetite and made us think of more serious things. Some blended into groups and animatedly discussed the ways to make chapathi and pathiri while many members of the fair sex indulged in the favorite pastime of gossip. That is, the systematic and comprehensive interdisciplinary assessment of persons and positions. Many teachers had not made it and were easy prey. A handful stood in dark remote corners puffing cigars and stroking philosophical beards.

No sooner had the namaz ended than someone blew a mental whistle. Perhaps everyone had the same whistle tied around their necks or some other body part. The beaux espirits sprung into action. Just like that! Dishes were filled in and thrown around, at times soiling and staining the soigné disseminators of knowledge. No problem. Surf Excel will fight teeth and nail the Monster Dirt and make your shirt impeccable. In frightening silence we gorged on chicken, stew, tea, parottas, chappathis and noolputtus. Fine show. (You win an eating contest and receive a prize. Will you show your parents the medal for more encouragement?!)

We were relieved too. No glib talks and eloquent waxes. The Come, Eat and Go was soothing and simple. No announcements, speeches and platitudes. A colleague is an authority in announcements. Prick up your ears and you are bound to break out in goosepimples before he is through. “Let the waves and vapors of delicacies dancing down to our nostrils spread to the corners of the world and herald to everyone how sublime and silogias were the bygone days commemorated and relived through the flowery emancipatory abstractions of Chritmas”—he is reputed to have announced while faithfully discharging the duties of an anchor. I don’t believe a college teacher would ever be such a dolt. He is a unique impresario and must have made others green with envy. OK?

Occurring as it is in a society pigeon-holed into castes and communities, such parties often prove to be fertile grounds of image builders. For many it is surefire chance to display their secular credentials. Often there would people who never for a moment forget that the root cause of our troubles are the internal enemies (Christians, Muslims and communists) and the best to way salvage the sinking Bharat is to have a pogrom. An Indian holocaust—the final solution. Cloaking their hues, they would scamper here and there, grinning from ear to ear, playing the perfect guest and pleased host at the same time. You can see their faces glowing with Tolerance. Their smiles and words may strain warmth and credibility but the sopped up mood drowns everything. The avalanche of fruit and food would bury lies seething and boiling with hatred. Growing uneasiness with existing social norms and diabolical plots are put into hibernation. That is, till the right moment arrives. The rollicking jollity overwhelms you. The button-downed world gets inspired to be liberal, you feel cocksure.

Thankfully, no one even attempted to wear the greasepaint of the Liberal and to shower praises on religions. Our greatest nightmare, however, was different. A whiff of such a party would prod local media bashers to rush to the scene and wonder whether the event can be made into a headline . UNITY AND RELIGIOUS HARMONY: COLLEGE TEACHERS SET MODEL. Something like that. The picture of a VHP man in tight embrace with a Jamaat-e-Islami man would be the frosting on the cake

(One tribe in Kerala never eats with us. Reason: what could be worse than sharing food with people who poop right in their house, perhaps in a cloister next to the kitchen wall!!)