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Witerati: Munch ado about Bhelpuri
Poor humble Bhelpuri will never be the same again
Poor humble Bhelpuri will never be the same again. Blame it on a deluge. Blame it on a flood. Nah, the allusion ain’t to the rain that’s the muse for Eliza Doolittle-esque odes, “The rain in Spain stays mainly in the plain ...”
It’s a rain that knows no rein.
It’s a condensation that may look more like condescension.
It’s a rain of Tharoorisms again.
Getting a taste of Tharoorisms is bechaari Bhelpuri.
That popular snack of the streetside foodie, that chatpata crunchy which has spiced up many a kitty party, that station-side savoury mapping many a commoner’s train journey.
Lyrically speaking, life will never ever be the same for Bhel again. Come rain, or shine.
The way poor Poppadom was plucked out of obscurity when it made it to the palatial high table amid the pandemic, courtesy Prince William and podcasting cronies, much in the same manner, the Bhelpuri has been saved from a life of anonymity.
Albeit Bhelpuri owes its 15 minutes of fame not to a Prince, but to a deluge of Queen’s English.
One of those times when the bechaari Bhel found itself in a ‘pickle’. What with Shashi Tharoor’s tweet describing it as “exotic crispy puffed wild rice from the Western Ghats rainforest … bathed in … Assamese Bhoot Jolokia chillies …”
One of those times when Twitterverse found itself in the throes of a tizzy and a tickle. What with Netizens egging on Tharoor to also dish out his farrago of fabled Tharoorisms for other sundry savouries, Golgappas to Paani Puri. Tweeple even prodded him to unlock a Foodosaurus, a la Tharoorosaurus.
One of those times when even as half the planet has been consumed by a virus, our esteemed parliamentarian-grammarian has been consumed by the benevolent intent of bestowing upon Bhelpuri a better fate -- being viral. The curious case of ‘Who Moved My Grammar-Ease’.
Of Idligate and ‘Isms’
Alas, not all Indian foods invite the privilege of going viral powered by Tharoorisms.
Months ago, poor dear Idli found itself going viral riding Idligate. Blame it on a British professor who thought Idlis were too “boring” for his palate.
In the midst of a pandemic, the way food gets Twitterverse to unite, ignite or bite, it happens only in India. The way desi food trolls toss up tribes of Twitterati jingoists, it happens only in India.
Take Idligate. It spawned all sorts of species spewing as many “isms” as there are Indian states. Or states of mind.
Be it Twitterati postulating Puttu patriotism, Rava regionalism and south jingoism, or Tweeple tattling food colonialism to food racism to even food nepotism.
One of those times when Twitterverse is rather confused as to what is worse. The virus of India or food of India going viral?
When the beloved Bhel goes viral, how can our quintessential comic couple, Lollita and Lamba ji, not take up a pot, or take potshot! Upon sighting Lamba ji cacophonously pottering with pots ‘n’ pans, Lollita can’t help but chortle curiously, “Darling, what’s it you’re struggling to cook?”
Inspired by the Tharoorisms bestowed upon Bhel, Lamba ji waxes lyrical.
“Honey, here’s unveiling baked wheat-flour spherical sumptuousness from the pristine prairies of Punjab … embellished with a farrago of micro-greens from mint meadows of Himalayan hillsides … stuffed with heritage potatoes plucked from the Peninsular Plateau, a la Banaskantha-ise, crowned with molten golden swimming pools from Verka-ise ....”
Lollita sweetly cuts short the Tharoorisms and cuts Lambaji to size, “Sweetheart, please try not to scorch the ... Parantha!”
The curious case of ‘Honey, I Shrunk the Tharoorosaurus.”
