Sowing the seeds of Obesity!

I have returned to Kuwait, the place I was born, after an extended gap of 16 years. When I left this place so many years ago, to escape the fireworks that followed Saddam Hussein’s overconfident and ambitious invasion, the Indian expatriate population was pegged at one lakh. Today the figure stands at a bursting five lakhs! Now I see more Indians and unsurprisingly more Malayalees around. In those days, every Indian was extremely pleased to meet another Indian in this ‘phoren’ land. These days even fellow mallus don’t care to smile at each other. The exclusive delight of meeting a human being who spoke your mother tongue is lost, as they are as commonplace as meeting a booing diehard Mohanlal fan at the first show on the first day of a Dileep starrer’s release.

There is a popular myth about Kuwait in Kerala - that it is a ‘small’ oil rich nation with loose estimations about its area, ranging from ‘as large as Chengannur town’ to ‘half the area of Alapuzha district’. Well let me tell you for a fact, that Kuwait is just a little under half the size of Kerala. Or to be a bit more precise – 45.8%.

Alapuzha district 1,414 km²
Kuwait 17,818 km²
Kerala 38,863 km²
India 3,287,590 km²

And mind you Chengannur is only one of the two revenue divisions of Alapuzha district.

So now let me not digress from the topic of today’s post. (And what on earth was that??)

‘My child’s birthday party’ is a common excuse around here to splurge your money and treat your mallu neighbours to some biriyani, who are otherwise too busy to drop in for a customary visit.

And here I was, obliged to attend the celebration of a mallu child’s second birthday, within weeks of landing here.

Now the child in question was a very smart one, who had not only mastered the alphabets of the English language before his second birthday, but had also learnt to make a smart presentation of his ability. He went around the house, spelling out all the labeled things, beaming with sweet, innocent pride. The only anomaly was that this chubby kid looked well above five on his second birthday!

He came up to me and said, “Achacha shall I spell television for you?”
Before I could mumble something he turned to the huge plasma screen tv in the living room and started off, “T-O-S-H-I-B-A Television!”
Reading out the alphabets at the age of two, without making a mistake, being no mean achievement, I smiled benignly.

This spurred the budding lexicographer in him. The guests spent the rest of the time laughing their heads off at the following:

S-A-M-S-U-N-G Washing machine
A-Q-U-A-F-I-N-A Mineral water
O-C-T-O-B-E-R Calendar
P-A-N-A-S-O-N-I-C Telephone

The entertainment session was interrupted by the arrival of hot steaming food. The guests, who had been casually invited for some ‘light refreshments’ by the parents, were presented with food enough to feed an army of Sumo wrestlers, who had been on a salad diet for a year.

Now this is one thing I’ve noticed in most Indians, especially Malayalees. As it is we have a tradition that firmly states:
"Maatru Devo Bhava, Pitru Devo Bhava, Acharya Devo Bhava, Atithi Devo Bhava"
“Mother is divine, Father is divine, Teacher is divine, Guest is divine”

But spare me a thought. Don’t you think we are taking this too far, when we pry open the mouths of our already obese guests and shove food and beverages down their throats, even if they swear upon their spouse’s head, that they had just had their king size lunch??
But the same benevolent host would drive a starving man out of his neighbourhood, with such malevolence manifest on his face, which he wouldn’t dare to display to his neighbour’s Chihuahua-Doberman cross, possessed with a compulsive penchant to pee on his front yard lawn.

Doesn’t it strike you at times that we unnecessarily take pains to feed the overfed and refuse to spare a drop of water for the parched throats? Well I have one request to make – when you have a salesman at your door, please give him that cold drink of squash or Tang that you treat your guests with, before slamming the door on his face. I think he would be touched by such behaviour even if you did not buy his duplicate goods.

Back at the party, the birthday boy who had by now grown close to me, took a chair beside me to enjoy the feast. His aunt Anne sat next to him and started handfeeding him his dinner.

By the time I was done with my soup, the ‘two year old’ had been fed three appams and a bowl of fish molly, which, I realized later, were mere starters. A plate of fried rice and several generous helpings of fried fish, chilli chicken and stir-fried prawns followed this. Finally when the exhausted Aunt dutifully went to get her nephew’s rightful share of ‘cake-and-ice-cream’ dessert, the mother intervened,” That’s enough, Anne. If you feed him any more he won’t drink his milk before going to bed.”

Boy! And I had thought they wouldn’t feed their 'little' two year old till his next birthday party!!