Stomach Dialogues | Flash Post 452
Simple! Just two stomachs talking.
Really! Do stomachs also talk? What language were they speaking in?
There must be a kind of dialect they use—much like we do—to communicate with each other. Trees and plants speak. Birds, animals, reptiles have their own languages. I spotted two bees in our garden buzzing around each other. I am guessing they were talking in their language and flirting with each other at the same time. Coming back to stomach dialogues, there were two stomachs belonging to two people that were having a conversation.
Who did the stomachs belong to?
Me and Dost. You remember how he came and sat down on my sofa yesterday? A dialogue between his stomach and mine started almost immediately.
I saw him go and sit beside you and while I heard bits and pieces of your conversation, I missed the parallel conversation the two stomachs were having at the same time. What could they have spoken about?
The war between Israel and Gaza!
Really! I thought they’d talk food—like, for instance…
His stomach: What’s for dinner tonight? Are we having something exciting or is it the same old uttapam with vegetables littered on top? Why can’t they make it a little more palatable by sprinkling tandoori or roast chicken in place of vegetables? Also, some of those spicy red chillies scattered generously could have taken them to new heights!
My stomach: I’m tired of food talk. Can we finish the show we were watching yesterday!
His stomach: I’ll eat the uttapam like an obedient boy and also the crabs in butter garlic that didi is ordering from Trishna. After that I’m thinking of having some motichur laddoos for dessert.
My stomach: Have some shame. Are you serious about the laddoos! That too at night!
His stomach: Big deal. I can eat a laddoo once in a while! Chalo, go and make us another cup of tea.
My stomach: So you can eat more Marie biscuits or sukha bhel?
His stomach: Two more Marie biscuits or a few spoonfuls of bhel can’t do any harm!
My stomach: Don’t have any more of those Marie biscuits and fill your tummy. I’ll join you with a motichur laddoo after dinner. Got four of those from Camy today. They’re fresh and soft and I am craving for one too!
His stomach: That’s a lovely idea. We’ll have the laddoos and watch a film as per your liking.
My stomach: What about Mission Impossible? It’s being screened on Netflix now. We should have watched it in theatres when it opened but since that didn’t materialise, let’s watch it now.
His stomach: Why not! And tell them not to give me any soup please.
My stomach: Your soup is already here.
His stomach: Can you move over a bit so I can sit comfortably? You’ve almost taken over the entire sofa!
My stomach: This sofa is meant for one person. What can I do if you want to suddenly shift from yours to mine!
His stomach: Should I start playing Mission Impossible?
My stomach: Wait. Dinner should be here any minute.
His stomach: I miss not sharing non-vegetarian food with you ever since you turned vegetarian. Remember our bingeing trips to Nizam’s and Aminiya’s in Kolkata? Or the lobster malai curry you relished at Bengali Market in Delhi where you licked your fingers clean and proceeded to do the same right till your elbows where the curry had reached? Or that tiny Asian restaurant in Covent Garden we’d drop by to eat seafood? Trishna’s was a regular haunt for their crabs in butter and garlic and prawns Koliwada! Did you turn vegetarian for a particular reason?
My stomach: None at all. Just felt like giving it up one morning.
His stomach: If I get crispy fried Bombil for you while I eat crabs in butter-garlic, will you change your mind?
My stomach: Difficult. But you go ahead. The crabs look yummy and smells so good. Look at the mushrooms I made in the same sauce. You can try some if you want. Paid a fortune for these Shiitake and Enokhi mushrooms.
His stomach: I’ll try some.
Afterwards, they went to bed with both of them vowing to catch up for a chat again.