No Biryani for You Mister!
Biryani is a South Asian mixed rice dish with its origins among the Muslims of the Indian subcontinent. It is popular throughout the subcontinent and among the diaspora from the region. It is generally made with spices, rice, and meat.
I am a lonely, broke writer. Meals are a rare sight in our profession.
I always look forward to tricking people into inviting me to their houses for a nice, warm meal.
Insha is a wonderful cook and a friend. Her lover Kabir is a wonderful host and a friend. I managed to secure an invite for lunch.
Life is full of treats. But life too, like all of us, wants to have a little fun, every now and then.
I reached her house in G.K II, New Delhi. It was afternoon. I like earning my meals. After an intensely painful and lengthy story telling session, I was served lunch. There was no Biryani.
I felt I was hit by a freight train. All my castles of hopes and dreams lie shattered in pieces, in front of my eyes.
Survival instincts kicked in.
Me: Innu, I would love to eat Biryani someday. Please invite me next weekend. I am in town till then. It is always a great pleasure to spend the time with you. You guys make me feel like family.
Insha: Awwww, Nish, You so sweet. Sure, I would Whatsapp you an exclusive Biryani Invite.
I patted my back. Job well done. A good meal, soon. I like the sound of it.
We finished our lunch and sat for another story telling session. It was interrupted by a neighborly women entrance. She seemed to have nothing better to do that evening. She very tactfully stole my audience.
Neighbor: Innu, You should buy a new car. I see Kabir has a car but you do not.
Insha: I do not need a new car. I barely go to any place alone.
Neighbor: That is wonderful but in the case of emergency, you should always have a spare car. You never know what might happen. Delhi is a very unsafe place. Also, everyone has a car. You should get one too.
I and Kabir looked at each other and buried our burst of laughter, within our souls. I soon bid their goodbye and left.
When you run a white collar scam like this, you need to run a very tight show. Follow-up is essential.
I messaged Insha under false pretext after three days. She was doing great.
She had bought a new car. I couldn’t stop myself from calling her.
Insha: I got a new car.
Me: Why?
Insha: I wanted one and Kabir gave me a surprise this morning. He is the best. He loves me so much.
Me: No, no and no. You bought a new car because of social pressure. You are a victim of a corporate-endorsed society. Your subconscious was tricked using a vicious and rare marketing tool.
Shame.
Advertising has us chasing cars and clothes, working jobs we hate so we can buy shit we don’t need.
Shame is a powerful advertising tool. Public humiliation is our biggest fear. We want to stand tall. An I-phone, a DSLR, an expensive car, helps you achieve that.
Anyways, After our phone conversation, Insha never invited me for Biryani. This Ramadan I was really missing Biryani. So thought of her. May Allah bless her soul. And I am not a quitter. Someday, I would again trick her into inviting me for Biryani. Until that day, May Allah give me strength.
Broken Radio 