Changes
“So you're telling me you chose to be vegetarian, like no pressure at all? That cannot be true, has to have been some controlling boyfriend borderlining husband or some pandit. Why would you choose to go vegetarian, you seem to be a headstrong girl.” This colleague of mine would not stop yapping. And the irony of his words was like nails being dragged on a chalkboard to my ears.
“Nada, nein, Noi, Nahi, aur kisi bhasha mein bhi mana karu?”
“Arey par batao bhi yaar, aisi kya baat hui k tumne bilkul hi change kar diya?”,The girl with puppy eyes chimed in. “Main dekho bas monday tuesday aur thursday nahi khati. Monday fast hota hai mera and tuesday thursday you know”
“Jatta tere naal karauni mangni, Somwaar de varat rakhdi”, Our only punjabi on team, or as we called him pseudo punjabi given his gujrati routes jumped in with a popular song to take a dig at miss puppy eyes. The little chat which was aimed at planning a weekend outing plan of the entire team, was now a debate on the ethics of food choices and why each of us made one. Since ai was the only one who’s story had no coercion involved, everyone wanted to dissect this alien.
“Arey yaar, ye calendar wali yari nahi hoti apne se. I’m the GO BIG OR GO HOME KINDA GIRL”
“Dialogue maar liya ho to zara wapas aajao, make it make sense. Hum sare research wale log hain, aise filmy gyan chipkaane se nahi chalega”, The serious guy on board smirked.
“Well its rather simple, Cognitive Dissonance, Apko talaab mein tairti battakh khubsoorat lagti hai par meat shop mein murgi raat ka khana nazar aati hai. Simple.” I came up with the most straightforward, scientifically sound logic for my team to chew on. But while I explained, I could not help but go down memory lane to the first time it hit me. For it wasn’t any PETA post or vegetarian friend nor pandit or guru peer pressuring me into a lifestyle change.
As hard as it is to believe, I too was a basic B#$%ch delhi foodie. Until a few years ago, It was difficult for me to resist a steaming plate of authentic momo, even a light whiff of shawarma would have me drooling in no time. The smell nauseates me now and I am filled with disgust anytime I even think back to the time I used to relish the same.
I used to love animals and birds alike ever since I was a child, and thanks to cultural prejudice even I held the notion that a chicken is food material, but parrots and ducks are to be petted.When I found an injured budgerigar in the college field one day, I brought it home. Through online consultation I was able to figure out it was dehydrated and suffering exhaustion. I sat with the tiny bird in my hand, gently placed in cotton wool. I sat propped against a pillow on my bed and prayed all night so the little tweety would regain consciousness and fly. Each time it moved, every drop of water she drank, I observed its tiny body move. It was magical how a body so tiny housed a life inside. My grandpa had quit meat after he read the Bhagvada Geeta, he used to say, “Jaan jitni Kan mein utni hi Mann mein” [Loosely translating to, life is the same whether in a tiny grain or a giant]. Those words rang in my had as I saw the little bird slowly regain her conscious.The next day,It did get better and I took her to a nearby bird sanctuary for proper care and rehabilitation by experts. It wasn’t only the bird flying away that day, but a part of my personality too. I could no longer deny the life a bird was, the soul its tiny eyes held or the tiny heart that went peep peep into beats to keep it alive.
“How could I deny a bird its life just because mujhe momo chaiye? Thats rude, imagine a giant alien put you on their plate and marinated you with sriracha, Just because taste bro!
Nahi na? Bas mera bhi same hai, so we either go to an all veg serving restaurant or I’m out”.
Sometimes the biggest lessons are delivered by the smallest of messengers, I do not know if after all these years that bird still breathes the same air as mine, but I do know, helping that bird truly transformed my life.
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