My stomach is about to explode. It actually feels like a series of mini explosions occurring every time I utilize me esophagus. The melting pot of all the spices in the world and a million curries. Ever since I’ve landed, I’ve been on an intestinal journey. At any given time, either the mouth is open or the pressure is building and don’t even bother asking if the phenomena has happened in parallel. My tummy is bulging and the toilets are clogged.
All these years I considered India to be a nation of minimal worries. Everybody lives and lets others live. Well, all these years, I’ve been wrong. As soon as I wake up, Bhaiya is concerned about why I didn’t start the day with chai. Bhabhi follows and is perplexed on why I didn’t try all 13 dishes. And then Teiji is unable to figure out why after having a heavy duty breakfast, I’m not starved for lunch. At the end of the day, ending the dinner at 7 attracts a million stares.
Everyone is served a balanced diet. It’s a perfect balance of equal portions of love, care, and affection divided into 24 small meals eaten one every hour. I am relieved realizing that my family is doing well when the highest level of worry and the hot topic of every morning is centralized around my carb intake.
India may not be a shock to my eyes but it certainly is to my stomach. I’m in no casual sense kidding – My stomach is about to explode.