Mrs. Sipra Majumdar’s daughter was getting married, and she found herself short of time even to breathe.
The entire house was in uproar, filled with frisson and zest, enriched by the aroma of delicacies and floral decorations.
The convivial ambience enrobed the ceremonial hue, and the brouhaha of merriment saturated the air.
The ornate festoon proclaimed two names soon to be entwined in an eternal knot. The halcyon evening arrived, and the elaborate feast was laid out. Each item brimmed with perfect flavour and fragrance.
Suddenly, at the rear end of the spread, some hush-hush whispering began. A kind of hobnobbing tête-à-tête was happening between Chutney and Papad.
With chaste words and dulcet tones, they were trying to claim their supremacy in the wedding feast as a combo.
Chutney, with her sullen voice, complained to Papad,
“We are always placed at the end of the row—and also at the end of the preference list.
As if the banquet can be completed without our presence. It gives me painful jitters.”
Papad chuckled and gently suggested,
“Hey Chutney! Don’t let your spirit sink. Don’t forget—we are an inevitable part of the course.
At the right moment, we too shall vindicate our eminence.”
Papad added, sounding more convincing,
“See, Chutney, by nature we’re very different.
You have a slimy texture and taste sweet-and-sour.
I, on the contrary, am salty, dry, and crispy.
But together we make a popular couplet and serve as a superb appetizer.”
Appeased, Chutney regained her inner strength.
With new spur in her voice, she said,
“I agree with you, dear.
I come with seasonal variations to enhance flavour—mango, tomato, hog plum, pineapple, and so many more.
Each evokes a succulent taste to tease the tongue. Yet I’m always mentioned at the end.”
“Don’t shrink your heart, sweetheart,” Papad comforted.
“We’re ineluctable items of the wedding feast, and that is no small honour.
When people lift you on my crispy surface, I feel your closeness, and people taste our combined magic.”
Just then, their private conversation ended abruptly as Mrs. Basu hurried toward their counter.
Inadvertently, she had munched a red chilli in the Mutton Kosha
and could no longer bear the burning sensation on her tongue.
Her only rescuer was Chutney.
After being served, she licked some from her plate, and as the fiery sensation eased, Chutney felt a little proud. Papad shot her an ogling glance, feeling just a little jealous.
At that moment, Mrs. Dastidar walked by. Seeing Mrs. Basu’s plate, she delivered her expert comment,
“Why waste your appetite on that slimy, over-sweetened item? So many lip-smacking delicacies are waiting!”
Papad instantly disliked her remark. To teach her a lesson, he winked impishly at Chutney.
The next time Mrs Basu picked Chutney up on Papad,
Chutney pushed herself to the edge and spilt onto Mrs Dastidar’s saree.
Her slimy texture trickled down the length of the fabric.
Mrs. Dastidar snarled in disgust,
“Hell! My saree is absolutely spoilt!”
Putting down her plate in a hurry, she rushed to the washroom.
Papad and Chutney watched her clumsy situation with delight
and gave each other a high-five to celebrate their successful revenge.
Papad smirked and told Chutney,
“See? In alliance, we stand strong and zesty. Why worry, darling?
I shall always stand by you and for you, so our identity can never be effaced.
We complement each other on every occasion, and no one can disregard us.
Look! After savouring those spicy and oily platters, the guests are now coming to us to soothe their tongues.
So let’s remain composed and welcome them.”
Hearing all the loving words from her partner Papad, Chutney gave a blushing smile.
Indrani Chatterjee
