As I sat in the fast food Arabian hotel looking at the rolling chicken in fire. As we mallu's called it narakathile Kozhi ( Chicken in Hell. Believed that doing sin will lead to hell where wholesale of punishment schemes are available proportional to the performance of ultimate sin. Will be made to be grilled in the fire rest is upto your intensity of imagination to feel the perfect collateral execution. This remains deep rooted in some of Indian kids passed generation 2 generation).
Well its hot outside and poor chicken still dead not spared is under the punishment scheme to fill stomach space and lot more sensation to tongue and ultimately dissolve into this or that body. Poor chicken speechless rolling in the Hell. Well is that chicken the same speechless chicken years ago which we ( Manoj, Sreejith and myself) had been searching with my neighbour Sreemuedathi ( edathi = sister or elderly person ). After long search all around our house and nearby we desperately discontinued coming to list of conclusinons and a novel ways it would have left its soul or resting in peace. If these had spirits or were able to come out of stomach definetely would had come out when Sreemuedathi had called it several times or atleast it had heard me and my friends desperately and deliberately calling the digested soul.
On my table arrived the arabian grilled chicken bringing me back to the present. A half chicken today is bit tough to eat alone and those stolen taste is not there of yester years. Today eating forsake or punishing myself options limited. Those days have rolled like the roller on the grill. The grill is the same chicken and the fire have been constantly changing. If Sreemuedathi would read this the chicken in the grill would be nothing a new scheme of torture to pacify her anger and the dimesion of her revenge would have made us to roll naked on this grill smeared with spice if this imaginative seed was sowed in her dormant brain. Very less people had the privilege to search digested soul with its owner. The missing bird which was there alive couple of hours ago happily in front of my house which Sreemuedathi had seen it last but least in her dream to believe that decscent boys like would attempt to make party after wining our cricket match.
It was a summer vaccation after the victorious match we returned home hungry to eat anything which would come in our way. As usual we had planned to go to hotel to do so that no one could make an effort to have something or least but the pocket strength of three made to take the alternative path homely food is the best for the health and ultimate safety. As usual tried to avoid Thampi ( Sreejith) and planned to make scrambled egg and bread which was the stock hardly to save ourself from the wild thoughts of stomach after hard exercise of hiting the ball and crazy run in the hot sun. We always had the threat of Thampi is flashing arrival at the moment of food ready. We prayed on the way home that stupid doesn't arrive at wrong time and idea of sharing the least. But still expected the unexpected guy which past has taught has and made us realize that this fatty is unavoidable at these moment when least expected.
When we reached home could not avoid the test of the time only bread available egg has been my breakfast, poor volatile memory which made my ears to yield to Manu's unheard saga of alien words which had a better vibrations in my audible world all makarams ( words beginning with word ma in malayalam). Those spells had appreciably challenged my spirit to conquer and capture anything which may perish the thoughts of hunger for this evening. I came out sat on the steps of my house's main entrance that place was my bodhi tree Oh Buddha spare me I cant resist the ideas coming to me when I sit there and has led the story to go ahead. Sitting there gazing out deeply thinking Manu never dreamt that I was going for the wild hunt and revenge which would reload the stomach. Sreemuedathi hated our international game but liked us as we were descent expect hitting one or two or four leave the counting, her with our tennis ball once which I vaguely remember had nearly broken her glass. And the school peon had found us responssible for those broken tiles in school which Mrs Sherlok Sreemuedathi had told him and those lost money which would have brought lots of Putt and Kadala ( Steam Cake & Pulse curry). The day has come Manu I said running inside bringing some grains which was laid through out leading the way for the mighty Cock which Sreemuedathi had kept for the Vishu for her family to feast, guiding way inside my house the bird was given a royal way in.
The bird with least knowledge of threat proudly entered my royal house, poor creature was in my hand within seconds. Manu always could read me never had to explain him what he had to do with doors and soon the pressure cooker whistled. Manu had locked the door from the front side so that the devil didnt come in to share our captured kingdom. As the fourth whistle sounded there was knocking on the door and there was no mechanism and idea with me and Manu so that aroma of our cooked kingdom could be captured . We waited patiently for all the sounds to perish and believed that smell never traveled or the beast outside had such a good nose to know that we were inside and making worthless attempt to kick him out being deaf. Thampi called twice and said ok I am going. Well curiously we opened the door to see whether Thampi had left. He was there outside smiling I am hungry I know its chicken there . Manu & I realized paradise has to be shared when you resist to share. Well Thampi was happy to eat and anxious to know the family tree of the bird which would digest in couple minutes. But we had to tell him the tale of the revenge and appetite so that he doesn't make the fuss as usual experience has made us firmly believe and belief is what leads us.
To be continued
Thampi is now in Canada. Manu in Bangalore. I believe they never had a chicken tastier then this .
