I am a vegetarian. Don`t ask me why. I don`t want to go through the turmoil all over again. On second thoughts, I might as well tell you. At least…you won`t be addicted to chicken….and in the process lose your life.
This happened well before my marriage, so you won`t find Rekha`s name mentioned in this story. Some break, for me too.
Think I was 25 years old…and I was in love with chicken. No, I did not tell my parents. They would have scolded me….not that they were vegetarians…but they did not like chicken. There was opposition at home. But, I held steadfast…I was in love with chicken…and I would have my way.
When I got up in the morning, I would be thinking of chicken…and when I went to bed, the same thoughts would be on my mind. So much so, I started spending my time looking at it from my study window. I would spend the whole day at the window.
I never had the guts to tell my parents. They would have called me a chicken…but to tell you frankly…I loved chicken. And I wanted to get married to it.
Somehow, on my 26th birthday (that is exactly one year after falling in love with the chicken my mother was rearing in our backyard) I gathered the courage to tell my parents. Initially, they thought I was joking.
After a few days of desperate convincing they agreed to our marriage. Yes…me and a chicken. I know, you probably think how a man can fall in love with a chicken…keep wondering…like I care.
Initially, I hated the chicken. But, because I would be studying in the backyard in the evenings, we met often. I would look away whenever she looked at me…over a period of time, I gathered the courage to look into her eyes. One day, I realized…she was yearning for love. Perhaps, I was her Prince Charming.
I would give her some grains, and she would peck on my hands…those were sweet moments. On some days – like when I had exams – I won`t have time for her and she would start pecking at my sandals….showing her anger…till I gave her some attention.
This went on till, one fine day I decided that I could not live without her. I proposed to her. Surprisingly, she continued pecking at the grains…and then it stuck me…how could a chicken tell me that she was ready for marriage. Chickens don`t talk…or do they?
Once my bewildered parents (one cannot expect to make the whole World happy about one`s choice) were ready for the marriage, I went to her pen (a hen`s house is called a pen).
I was shocked…my chicken had just given birth to an elephant. Yes, an elephant. I am sure, you are as shocked reading this as I was seeing that small elephant crawling out of an egg.
As if her adventures with the father-elephant were not enough…there was an angry cock (her second boy-friend) ….trying to strangle her. The chicken I once loved, stood there struggling…but I did not go for her help.
My castles came tumbling down…the she had been three-timing, all the while pretending that she loved me. Ever since, I have hated chicken. After one funeral (yes, I murdered her) and a wedding (with Rekha) I am still a vegetarian.
This has been written to help you overcome your chicken-eating habit. If you turn vegetarian, you can avoid three things (remember the chicken was three-timing) – unhealthy body, animal-killing and falling in love with chicken!
Note: The picture that you see on top is the last frame of my relationship with my first love.