Yeh khana hai yaa…

Just had lunch. I ate something the caterers here in office call food and expect me to believe it as well. I must appreciate their guts though, which can only be compared with pravin mahajan's lawyer who goes on record saying his client is "mentally ill". Neway, I expect pramod mahajan to get well and sort out his brother and the lawyer and the mental illness (if any). But I think I need to check out this caterer's kitchen. While the others are still eating let me go and observe the cooking that's going on in there.

I look at the cook in his kitchen, which smells radically similar to a hospital's general ward. He goes about to cook in a manner comparable to scientist working on a formula for a chemical weapon in an underground chemistry lab. While in his innocent dreams he is blissfully ignorant of the pressure cooker delivering whistle after whistle loud as a mill-siren. Just before the cooker goes bonkers and blasts he suddenly wakes up from his dreams like someone who after listening to a Jagjit Singh gazal has just flipped channels to find Navjot Singh Sidhu. He switches off the gas. I am thinking had there been one, the scene would have been strikingly similar to what they used to show in Jaspal Bhatti's "flop-show" where Bhatti attempts some chemistry only to blast the beaker and comes out with glass pieces and white chemical all over him.

While he goes about cooking his dal look-alike in the utensil of the size of a bathtub, I take a peek at the rest of the menu. There lies the good old bhindi distastefully mixed with aloo. Still a better combo then Nagma and Ganguly I guess. The salad contains 5 kg of chopped cabbage mixed with 2 slices of carrot, which one has to be lucky to find out. The Muter-Paneer is all-muter-no-paneer, I bet the best of underwater swimmers wont find any. Finally, there is the forsaken curd, which seems to be lying there from the nineteenth century.

With no more motivation to move around further, I leave the place trying not to think of what tomorrow's ordeal at lunch table would be like. While crossing the dining hall I see a part of the crowd still eating and I pray they never visit the kitchen or else…