Shabir is a fool. Sometime back as I was talking with some of my friends he lay sprawled on the sofa listening to us. I don’t know what all we were discussing but I remember that somebody mentioned something about a recipe for a disaster. This got Shabir animated and he sat up and said in an incredulous tone “Is there really a recipe for a disaster?”
“Yes certainly!” I said by way of pulling his leg. “Do you want it?”
“Of course that’s what I have probably been looking for. You see I want to see what goes into making a disaster,” he replied enthusiastically.
“What disaster?” one of my friends asked him.
“Well we have one on our hands. I mean the situation in Kashmir. We have been fighting for so long now and yet all we have to show for it is a tangled mess. I have been studying this mess, this disaster for some time now but I haven’t reached anywhere. Maybe if I get to know the recipe for a disaster I will understand what leads to it, the disaster I mean,” he explained.
“Why don’t you ask some chef?” another friend of mine spurred him on.
“That I will!” said a determined Shabir.
This was not the end of it. The fool that Shabir is, he actually started visiting chefs in hotels and restaurants asking them for the recipe for a disaster. Of course as was expected he drew a blank everywhere besides leaving many a chef amused. Then one day he was enjoying Harisa at a shop that specializes in the same. (Harisa is a famous meat dish cherished by the people of Kashmir. It is a tasty preparation that has meat as the main ingredient and rice or wheat as an additive along with a variety of flavoring substances. It is prepared by putting all the ingredients in a pot and stirring, more like grinding, the same rather vigorously with a big wooden pestle as it is cooking. The professional Harisa chef (known as Harisa-gor) usually has a pot sunken partially into the floor to ease the vigorous stirring required.) Now as our quixotic friend was relishing a plate of Harisa at one such place it occurred to him to ask the Harisa-gor for a recipe for a disaster.
The Harisa-gor reflected for a while and then said, “I don’t know about a disaster but accidents do happen. Like the usual too much or too little of some ingredient like say salt. Or the quality of the ingredients, the meat may be bad and all that and yes…” he stopped in the middle of the sentence.
“And yes what?” Shabir asked. But the Harisa-gor did not respond. Shabir waited till the other customers left and then asked again, “And then what?”
The Harisa-gor lowered his voice and indicating the Harisa pot said, “You see the pot in which Harisa is made is sunken to floor level almost. What happens is that a rat gets curious sometimes, attracted by the smell and all that and leans into this pot and sometimes falls into it and become a part of the whole concoction. Mind you,” he added quickly, “it does not always happen. And of course it never happened with me. But sometimes…”
“What happens to this ‘ratty’ Harisa?” Shabir said.
“It is well…er…served to the customers. I mean it will too be much of a waste so the Harisa-gor keeps mum about the whole thing.”
“Suppose lots of rats tumble into the pot. You see if one does there is nothing stopping the others. It will still be served?” Shabir persisted.
The Harisa-gor was already regretting as to why he had leaked out a well guarded trade secret. He just nodded his head and said, “Now that would be a disaster though.”
Hearing this Shabir left the shop shouting the local equivalent of ‘Eureka’ and came rushing to my place. “I have found the recipe for a disaster.” he said.
“Really?” I wondered what new foolishness he was up to.
He did not even stop to take a breath as he launched into his explanation. “Yes I have found what led to the disaster that we ended with in spite of all those sacrifices. Though there were sincere people in it, still are probably, but isn’t it a fact that criminal elements also crept into the movement. Sometimes it was just personal rivalry that got a so-called ‘informer’ killed. Then there were people who behaved like a mafia. There was intimidation, there were threats and beatings and shootings. Yet everyone remained silent for fear of giving the whole thing a bad name. Rats kept tumbling into our Harisa and we maintained a discreet silence just like the Harisa-gor’s. It is this silence that is the most important ingredient that went into making the whole thing a disaster and we ended up with a potful of Rat Harisa!”
Ugh! Shabir is a fool!
Or again is he?
(Truth is mostly unpalatable…but truth cannot be ignored! Here we serve the truth, seasoned with salt and pepper and a dash of sauce (iness!). You can record your burps, belches and indigestion, if any, at snp_ajazbaba@yahoo.com)