Of why they didn’t serve aloo parantha and why my migraine was a baby migraine.
3.10.2023.
I am writing this anecdotette sitting at boarding gate no. 21 on the Kolkata airport at 7 AM. I have just been denied satisfying my aloo parantha and masala chai craving.
The food court here, offers me awesome chicken rolls, mouth-watering biryani, an array of sweets which make my pancreas insulinate just by looking. There is a wide range of aromatic darjeeling teas with fancy cakes and cookies on the side.
But the Delhi in me is seeking aloo parantha and masala chai to start the day. One roll shop kindly offers the skin of a roll as a substitute to the parantha I seek. I can see the dramatic eye rolls served with chicken rolls as I politely refuse. The shop people are perplexed with this bengali speaking, bengali looking woman who seeks a very punjabi breakfast in a city which is a gastronomic delight.
Disappointed with my aloo parantha search, I am sitting right now with a fancy replacement in the garb of a crepe and assam tea from Flury's. (I am secretly enjoying it to the hilt, but the disappointed face is for the shopkeeper who offered me the roll-skin). My thoughts veer to yesterday's tea time which was wildly different from the fancy Flury's tea I am sipping right now.
Yesterday, we were gathered around an ancient tea stall which for some reason also had live chicken and fish (in all their smelly glory). Adding to the obsteperous crowd, there was a stream of noisy traffic which made us shift closer and closer to the chicken coop. It had been raining on and off for the past couple of hours. Someone was wearing an institute T shirt with a banyan tree as the institution emblem, painted on the front pocket. The conversation took off to the back history of the 100 year old college and it's banyan tree emblem. What was fantastic to note, was the depth of knowledge, and the acknowledgement or rebuttal of that knowledge, showcasing the unusually high intelligence quotient of the crowd gathered around the shop.
As we sipped the milky, frothy tea and munched on descriptionless cookies served out of bulbous blue glass jars, the sun decided to peek out. The freshly washed sky made the sun rays pierce sharply. The umbrellas came out of their plastic wraps to protect us from the sun. The sharp sunlight made the conversation veer to migraines. Now, THAT was a topic I could contribute to, wholeheartedly. I got ready to spout medication advice and tips and tricks to beat the deadly 'M' .
Even before I could pull out my dark rimmed glasses, I was attacked with "How long have you had migraines?"
"Four or five years" I said, assuming I would be greeted with empathetic 'ahhs' and sympathetic 'ohs'.
Alas ! My response was brushed off with unexpected alacrity
"Just that long?" The speaker peered through her own dark rimmed glasses which were thicker than mine.
"I have had them for over 30 years."
I was already feeling small and inadequate as I offered my feeble voiced advice to have vanilla icecream when the migraine hits. As expected, I was told that 30 year old migraines need 3 preventive medicines in the morning in addition to 3 more in the evening. And 5 year old migraines were the milky toddlers in a world of double shot espressos.
It was firmly established that my migraine was indeed a 'baby' migraine which would take many years and many struggles to mature, before I could proffer advice over milky tea standing next to a chicken coop. I retreated behind my brown umbrella fully convinced that attainment of such eligibility is an uphill task. The face of Maa Kali on the shop signage next door (Maa Kali Puja Bhandar) started swimming in front of my eyes. I didn’t realise I had already landed myself migraine. But then, it was just a 'baby' .
I finished my tea and bid a silent bye-bye to the chicken who were savoring the last few hours of their life. Then I quietly disappeared into the wild cacophony of a crowd super-rich in intellect and social justice driven humanity :) :) :)
