Being a part of a hardcore non-vegetarian family, Sundays have always been special. In my home, by default, Sunday is biriyani day! A typical Sunday morning always begins with a debate over coffee on what type of biriyani we will be having for lunch, and in those arguments, there are no losers. Over time, everything changed; our relationships, our perspectives, our friends, our house, our car, everything, but this little Sunday routine has outlived them all. Now that I think of it, it is almost the only constant in my life.
The happiness biriyani brings me has never diminished. I have outgrown Barbies, comics, cartoons, cotton candies and monopoly; even ice creams and chocolates excite me a lot less these days, but never biriyani. The excitement as we wait for the rice to cook in the aromatic chicken broth, or as we track the delivery guy using our phones has never been a victim of Time’s wicked ways.We have never had ‘enough’ biriyani. It sounds funny and painful just saying it. No biriyani is enough or bad; it can never be. We can have it thrice a day, and still crave for it the next morning. Biriyani wields power over the eater. It destroys every will to diet and eat healthy.
It, time and again, shows you how it is worth every pound on your hip, every dress size you increase and every unreciprocated crush.Every morsel is a perfect balance of right and regret. It has always been my guilty pleasure. It is my lover I want to have around all my life, yet also a dangerous affair I can’t stop myself from indulging in. Oh but we have our bitter times too! That clove always sneaks into the plate somehow. But the next mouthful makes it all better, and now we are stronger, for we know what to expect.
When we are not together, biriyani and I are like an old flame. Every restaurant I pass or every menu I glance at, my eyes halt for just a second at its name, and with it my heart, to reminisce the happy times we have had together. Just its presence makes every awkward family occasion easy.
Biriyani is a range of emotions. It’s my go-to dish to celebrate and my comfort food after a horrible day. Biriyani just gives and gives till it is completely empty and never asks for anything back, and that is what I love and that is why I remain loyal.“So that’s who I’ll marry!”, I told my friend. “I’ll marry someone who is my biriyani and we will last.”
Email: shivanivsridharan@gmail.com