If today I am a drunkard, I have to blame my mother. I still remember how as a five year old I would hate drinking that yucky glass of milk before I went to bed. Now, the glass of milk has been taken over by a bottle of beer.
The graduation from milk to a bottle of beer has had its share of ups and downs. As an eight year old, I gave up drinking milk in the night. I think it was because of Ashwath Acharya, my 4th standard classmate. How could I continue drinking milk after he told me if I poured a glass of milk into a bottle housing a money plant in it…I would find ten rupee notes around the bottle in the morning. Unfortunately, I would later come to know that the money plant in my room was the non-giving kind as against the giving-kind in Ashwath`s bedroom. Ashwath was good in money matters.
When ten years old, I was introduced to Boost. Sometimes Bournvita would make it to our kitchen because it played price wars with my mother`s favorite Boost…and as far as my father was concerned… the lesser the price, the better the product. For many days I drank milk with Boost. Until that day when Vikram Sarabhai taught me the art of making Boost-chocolate.
I suggest you try making it. All you do is take a handful of Boost in your palm, drop it in a newspaper, fold it like a chocolate, and hide it in the cupboard for days. With time, moisture and enough humidity, loose Boost particles become a sticky-gluey mix ready to be eaten. More often than not, I would forget where I had placed the 50 gms of Boost tightly wrapped in a newspaper. But I relished the Boost-chocolate whenever I found the newspaper bundles intact.
I think the habit ended when I mistakenly kept a Boost-Chocolate in the making among my mother`s sarees. She noticed the ants (the rainy season was just approaching) among her clothes when she had 15 minutes to dress up and be in a marriage. She didn`t attend the marriages. But she did attend to me.
I grew up to be a handsome man. Now, I considered it beyond my dignity to drink milk at night. Though they did manage to force some down my throat on the day of my marriage. To top up the insult, I had some 6-7 girls watch me drink the milk and giggle their way out of our bedroom. Rekha had arrived.
With Rekha`s arrival my life spiced up. And I am not referring to the extra dash of spice she adds to everything she cooks (even rice). By the way, did you know I have named her ‘Extra Spice`.
Going by the Beero-goras Theorem (remember Pythagoras?) anybody drinking beer needs something spicy. As a corollary, anybody having something spicy needs a beer. Psyche me up baby!