To pill or not to pill

Looking at the way people consider cooking as a chore, I have manufactured a short and simple solution, a pill to take care of our basic need of eating food at regular intervals.

Although there already are too many hunger-killing as well as hunger enhancing food items in the shops, they do not serve the purpose. These hunger-killing shakes, drinks or snack bars, curb our urge while providing some nutrition.

My pill is different. Take a pill in the morning, take one in the evening.  Vitamin-PillsWith pills, you do not stop feeling hungry, you don’t curb your hunger but it’s taken care of by a simple sweet tiny pill. As such, you all take so many pills each day – for this vitamin and that vitamin.  With my two pills inside your guts, no need for food or any extra pill.

But, having gone through some of the responses to the survey Red Pill, Blue Pill, I am disheartened. My hopes are dashed. My business that had started to take-off, is in doldrums.That’s because you people are not happy with the idea of a pill.

Animals were happier than you. I fed some cows on these pills and they seemed pleased that they don’t have to keep hanging around pastures anymore. Animals don’t even have to cook their food but they still preferred gulping a pill to eating grass. No need to munch the whole day. My pill-fed cows were still happy to donate us humans ample milk for cheap, and baby cows fed on pills felt they won’t have to feel deprived of their mom’s milk.  The race horses said, they were happy that they’ll be able to slog the whole day without wasting time on eating food.

Humans, it seems, are different.  Sensual men and women love their senses – their mouths drooling at the sight of colorful food, their taste buds getting excited upon tasting sweet, sour, spicy, salty food.

How many times a day do we have to eat?  We humans imagine that overnight we kept a fast and we celebrate breaking this fast with our breakfast.  We need so many food times – lunch time, dinner time and tea times. In fact our life revolves around these food times.  Buying of wide variety of food, proper storage of perishable food, refrigeration, disposal of rotten food. Then we fuss over buying elegant cookware and dinnerware, and spend time and money on equipment and gadgets to make our cooking easier.  Serving food on fancy tables so as to please our eyes.  After that we overeat, put on weight and then feel guilty of not exercising enough.

We love our food. But this is the food given to us by animals and birds – their eggs, their milk, and they themselves sacrifice their life for us. Plants too give their full life or else their body parts to us, so that we can hog on them and live a healthy life.

My creation – this pill – will not only save these plants and animals but also help humans, esp. the fairer sex (I dare not say weaker sex) from slogging. I can reduce their kitchen workload; so they don’t have to keep pleasing their families.

So guys, please do re-consider your response to this prompt.  It can help the animal kingdom as well as human race.

That said, honestly speaking, I myself love wide variety of sumptuous food recipes cooked by my wife. I would never like to stop eating them.  Although I want to stop being a glutton, I hunt for best eateries around town. Don’t tell anyone but I’m not sure even after marketing these pills I may find myself unable to resist food. More than that I won’t be happy if my growing kids are deprived of micro-nutrients and calories they can get only from fresh food.  No pills for them.  My aging parents may not be able to tolerate a pill.

Oh well!  Is that another failed experiment?  Hope not. Hope one day my science finds some alternative solution. Not pills. Not too much food obsession the whole day. Something in between, and better than hunger-reducing snacks and shakes.

Save local – Help global

Fasting once a week, helps us
live longer, the wise say thus.

Fasting once a week, I attain
will-power and restraint,
learn to relate to the poor
living the deprivations they’re
compelled to live, each day forever.

Meager resources thus saved
go a slow long way, to reach
where needed the utmost
To the poorer and the hungrier
than I can ever be. My small
token of love, an effort to reduce
the poverty of the universe.  

The day I fast, I do not drive
But hop a train and calmly enjoy
Plus save the air, and celebrate
my own World Pollution-Free Day!!  


pic source: geekshine

Header pic of poor kids: cameconomist


In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Think Global, Act Local.”

Cakes and Biscuits

It’s early morning here in Sydney and as I sit thinking whether I should attempt the writing prompt or again let it go this time, I realize I am already attempting. As I read the prompt that asks us to tell about some food that transports us to our bygone days and I can see I do have that food in my hand.

I sit with my left hand holding a cup full of my wake-up-drug tea while I use mostly my right hand to type. On a plate I have Parle-G biscuits that I look at with nostalgic fondness.

DSC_0003 (13)

This ritual of beginning my day, not just with fragrance of cardamom or basil tea but also accompanied by some sort of light biscuit, takes me back to my childhood. One auntie of mine, my dad’s sister, got us kids addicted to having bed-tea. It helps children focus during early morning study hours, she would justify.

But another auntie who too was equally knowledgeable and equally vocal about health and life affairs, had sermonized once that we should never drink tea on an empty stomach. It’s a long fast, this food-break we have during our eight hours of sleep, so tea can harm the stomach lining.  Hence, this habit continues till now, drinking out-of-bed bed-tea with biscuits.

Yummy and crispy brown

Yummy and crispy brown

As a child, I loved only plain and simple, no-fuss Parle-G glucose biscuits and I still do not like cream-filled biscuits.

For similar reasons, I prefer cakes without any icing.

Actually, this liking for unadorned plain cakes also goes back to my childhood, as we used to have similar tasting cake-rusks.  Though I knew English language and I could read the wrapper, for a long time I did what many others around me did – pronounced them as ‘russ’ instead of rusk. There were two varieties those days which still exist even here in Sydney-Indian shops.  The first type were softer, more delicious rusks made with egg, the second variety were hard crusty sooji (semolina) rusks. The first ones were my favorite and still are, for they taste like plain home-made cake.  To get more and more of this specific taste, till now I bake such plain cakes a lot, and never ever do I make sponge cakes with pink icing or jam layers.


Yummy and crispy brown


Crusty cake bottom tastes like good-old rusks

So that is the reason for my prevailing fascination with rusk-like homemade cakes.  But my near aversion to white bread also kindles mixed memories, again from childhood.

During childhood, we mostly ate Indian bread, which is a parantha or poori or chappati for breakfast, lunch and dinner. But we also regularly consumed white bread.  God knows how we ate that much! Of course, big families, lots of kids, lots of guests. Those days, brown bread was not the in thing. Although, once I started my own family and as soon as I became aware of the healthier versions of bread (brown, seeded, rye, oats), we hardly ever brought white bread home. Thus, bad-old-white-bread too kind of reminds me of my childhood.

There was no big-mall culture those days. It was the duty of my siblings and I, to go fetch daily bread and butter from a bakery that was down the road but accessible only after we had crossed a very wide and perpetually busy road. So, while crossing this hustle and bustle, we would stand very alert and watchful, and then simply run fast to the other end. Relieved at last.  Yeaaah….made it! Victory!!

Last time I went to India, I happened to see that busy road after many years. This time the road seemed much less broader, and even with such an increase in Indian population, the road did not seem busy at all as it did back then.

Things do seem different when we are a child, don’t they?  I remember, once I had sobbed for half-a-day because somebody mean had rubbed a slimy mango all over my doll’s pretty face. All I had to do was wash the face or get a new doll.

As a child we have small worries, we have problems that don’t even need any solution.
And now?  Now, we have problems that have no solution.


In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “The Transporter.”