GOT A GOOD GARLICKIN'
"EEEEEEEEEEK (Or did I distinctly hear, 'LEEEEEEEEEEEK')," yelled my aunt, when she heard I'd started therapy that involved eating two garlic pods first thing in the morning. "Don't come to our house, please, we won't be able to stand near you!"
Ouch. That hurt. She meant, of course, "We can't stand you anymore".... "We brought you up with good Brahminical values -- no onion, no garlic in food. And now, you eat them raw, and whole!" I was ingesting fire, and they were spitting more at me.
But after three days of drawing energy from the scud, I wasn't going to give up. "It controls blood pressure. It fights cholestrol. And, I've been told it'll do wonders to my skin because it fights free radicals," and so on and so forth, I'd ramble, licking my wounds. I could see noses crinkle up with each argument, at the other end of the line.
Would they ever understand, I'd think, as I'd slam the phone down, what my poor mouth has to undergo each time I'd chew on the fiery vegetable? And if one wasn't enough with its accompanying blisters and burns, I had to chew on two, with the opprobrium coming free!
Everyone I knew and loved was going to be walking around with breath analysers. The 'Shubha B.G.' (Before Garlic) and 'Shubha A.G.' comments were going to flow in my face -- if they ever got near, that is.
Onions and tears, did they say? Sniff, sniff... Here were people who'd loved me with all my sins and flaws, podcasting me as a rank outsider. An untouchable.
A penny for my pods?
