I am an avid diver and I use the adjective ‘avid’ with more serious weight than your average Twitter profile. I love swimming through the deep blue sea, admiring all sorts that reside there. It amazes me no ends to imagine how they manage with bulbous eyes, basic gills and fins, and why we humans need so much technology and tinkering to cope with. And I am a gracious guest, for at no point do I forget that down there I am but an insignificant visitor and, pun intended, way out of my depth.
But when I come to land, the real conundrum begins for what I was respectfully admiring only a few minutes ago; swimming freely in the ocean is now possibly part of my entrée. It is a creeping sense of guilt and shame that overcomes me as I bite into a prawn after having spent a good part of an hour observing one from a distance.
The looming double standard eats away and gets worse when I consider the rarer stuff. When I tried Blue Marlin Sashimi for the first time, I immediately realised why it’s also called Butterfish; the tastiest thing I have eaten raw in a long time. I loved it and couldn’t wait to get more. And more.
It was only later, upon reading up more on it, did I realise that it is an endangered species. How do I justify ordering it now knowing how selfish it would be? Would it be unethical to explore just how endangered it is on a scale of 10 and if one platter, every two months, could be considered sustainable?
And then it got worse; at the same meal I also tried a Mantis prawn, the one that is practically bred in a plastic bottle till it is killed. It was tasty but the sight of a bottle-trapped prawn was just too moving for me to enjoy it entirely. Somewhere, I’m sure, my Karma wept a little.
And that is when I wondered about the other stuffs that I eat: from Foie Gras to Caviar, and how some are more cruel than others. Okay, not cruel but less morally justifiable as a basic food need. How do I mange to stay so blissfully ignorant when the knowledge shines so stark upon us?
The only momentary reprieve was that I was glad I don’t like the taste of octopus. Such wonderfully complex creatures, I was relieved that I derive more joy observing one rather than imagining it as part of a platter. I also don’t like Abalone but they aren’t half as awe-inspiring an example in this case.
But the taint of loving the taste and texture of an endangered species, or the longing for a food that comes at much pain to the creature, grows. The more my mind wanders to it, the more intense the internal conflict. I still love the taste and smoothness, but the hard lump of conscience to swallow along with is quite a mouthful for the soul.
So, I don’t know what the righteous path is here. Clearly, I am humane enough to ponder such, but too decadent to turn vegan or anything remotely and similarly mundane. For if anything, hedonism too is a wild beast, one that feeds on knowledge and once you have known a certain flavour, there seems no turning back. At least not for now.
Moral of the day then, eat what you love but do try and be conscious about sustainability and ethical practices. One day when it gets too much to digest, give it up. And in case you turn vegan, try and work on acquiring the subtle art of not shoving it in other people’s faces! mail@magandeepsingh.com