Whew! I now know how it feels to be preoccupied. It’s an irony in a way that one has to do lots of stuffs that has neither any inkling with one’s own life nor makes you so proud to do it. Yet, to feed what we call our tummy we ought to work. And work we should, whether we like it or not. Talking about tummy I have a food incidence to share with.
Since our job demanded us to start early the next morning 5 of us went to Paro on Sunday eve (two weeks ago). Our office there had arranged for our logistics at Drugyel. The two ladies, our host for the occasion, declared that they would go and prepare dinner for us and insisted that we enjoy the fair share of the soothing air of Paro town.
Soothing it was, but only for some time. The chilling effect soon began to overwhelm us and we were shivering in the cold breeze. I ran my hand over the other to send back the goose pimples cropping up. Damn! I left the jacket in the vehicle and the driver had zoomed off to Drugyel with the hosts.
At 9PM, our driver called. Dinner was ready and he ‘ld be coming to pick us up. ‘Where are you all?’ Same old spot you left us dumbo! (But dare I say that to him?). Road to Drugyel is a fine ride. The house is great. The dinner is best of all. Our lovely hosts have prepared pork for us. The driver says they have kept separately the vegetarian dishes on the other side. That reminds me to tell you about the two Tamangs in our group.
Yeah, the two Tamangs, as they insist are non-pork-eaters. There are Tamangs who will eat Pork but not beef, or vice versa, and they are of the latter kind. Lucky me and my friend, the whole pork prepared for five shall be free of competition. A royal treat indeed. However, more intriguing is the delicious looking soup staked in the vegetarian corner. Seeing a huge pan full I followed my Tamang friends and scooped out a large ladle. Needless to say, the soup was the tastiest of all.
‘Mo ta yo soup mithro lagewta,’ goes one Tamang. The other nods in agreement. I can only nod too because the soup taste weirdly great. Weirdly great! I do not remember taking a vegetarian soup as great as that. No wonder my friends were enjoying. I looked over my plate as the two Tamangs stomped into the kitchen to scoop out another ladle of the yummy gourmet. As we were finishing, the senior Tamang kept on appreciating it’s delicacy as he swiped in large sips from his cup. Just then, the second Tamang threw something from the cup on the table. A hard white stuff clattered on the table.
‘Oi mero soup bara ta bone pa nishkeow ta ho!’ (I got a bone from my soup)
Alas, it was two cups too late. This did explain why our pork curry had no gravy. Only then did I understand why the soup tasted weirdly great. The taste of meat had been lurking in the soup all along!