Cook bhaiya

Girls in shorts displaying their untrimmed leg hairs, girls in track pants with embossed panty shape, girls in braless tops with loose jiggling breasts and highlighted nipples, girls with messy hair buns and stinging unbathed bodies, girls in sleeveless tops with unshaved underarms, the haphazard morning scenario at ‘Sweet Home’ PG apartment, also contained girls reading newspapers while sipping tea or girls in formals packing their dabbba’s or even the Late Latif who woke up at noon.

While the evening scene there was quite flashy, girls going out with perfectly made up face, colorful funky clothes, some displaying their cleavage some their slender endless legs and some showcasing both, some waiting for their boyfriend to arrive, some  nerds reading at the terrace with a coffee mug, some social networking bugs updating the evening status while watching MTV Roadies, and those miserable souls coming back from the office … Ah! Birju bhaiya witnessed everything as he cooked for those 20 girls and stayed at that PG in a small room allotted to him. 

 ‘Bhaiya, can’t you make anything else except Phool gobi or Patta gobi?’

‘Bhaiya, Take this 50 rupees and buy me ‘Amul Gold’ milk and ‘Masti Dahi’.’

‘Bhaiya, please prepare more sabzi, I return from college at 2 in the noon and find no sabzi, How to eat plain roti then?’

‘Bhaiya, what is this? We pay so much and the wifi, isn’t working, please call that electrician Vipul to fix all these. ‘

‘ ohoo, Bhaiya you forgot again, I don’t eat onion and garlic. I need Jain sabzi.’

‘Bhaiya, bathroom me pani nahi aa raha!’ 

‘Bhaiya, you are in Gujarat and you need to learn to prepare Bhakhri, Khichu, Rotlo, locho…I can’t eat that Nepali Kwati, ho!’

 ‘Bhaiya, please change the channel, CID is unbearable!’

Audacious girls came up with endless list of demands and complaints but Birju bhaiya never complained, never offered back answers and accepted all these with a smile, After all, such were Birju bhaiya, a happy-go-lucky Nepali man with loquacious nature, nimble 5’3 frame, dusky jubilant face and prematurely thinning hairs.  He was a hardcore fan of Salman Khan, Honey Singh and CID. But it was the attribute of altruism which made him everyone’s favorite ‘Cook bhaiya’. 

‘Bhaiya, how many teaspoon salt to pour into the dal?’ asked Anisha, at the top of her voice. She would come every evening to experiment in the kitchen which resulted into shapeless rotis, salty sabzi, half cooked dal, stony dry Manchurian and several other uneatable food items. 

 Anisha witnessed the magic Birju bhaiya created in the kitchen…The way he sprinkled spices in the hot oil, the speed at which he infallibly chopped vegetables, the manner in which he rolled the roti base and turned it into a triangular paratha, the appeal of those vividly garnished Nachos, the smell of his  Pavbhaji which teased the taste buds, the irresistible reddish-pink colored Gajar ka halwa he prepared on some weekends, the newness he brought in the dinner plate by cooking Nepali cuisines like Kwati, momo, Bhadmaas and the delicious Pustakari, the way he made everyone’s morning ‘Good’ by serving tea prepared with ginger and Fudina … and all these lead Anisha  to make Birju bhaiya her cooking teacher . 

‘2 teaspoons’ birju bhaiya would answer lowering the television’s volume.

Birju bhaiya avoided going to the kitchen when Anisha was experiencing not because he was incredulous to help but to avoid a moment of sheer embarrassment with an opportunist brassiere.  

  

‘Bhaiya, Come here; this cooker is so stiff, it doesn’t get closed, Anisha said adjusting her top. Ahh! That notorious loose red bra strip... Always peeps out of her top.

 ‘bhaiya, aapko pata hai na… without you I always  end up doing unsuccessful experiments in the  kitchen.’ She added, pressing her lips. 

 Acquiescently, bhaiya went to the kitchen. Closed the stiff cooker and amongst the voluptuous figure, creamy skin and Lavender Armani fragrance, her sensuous red bra was staring at him. He quickly looked down and again her pedicured feet, imperial blue nail paint and silver toe-ring were trying to woo him. 

He closed his eyes for a couple of mini seconds and a smiling Shini came to his mind. 

‘Phone aaya hai’ he would say and leave the kitchen just to remain loyal to his Shini, Leaving Anisha alone with her unsuccessful experiments. 

He lived among 20 girls and still never set a bad eye at them as his heart was already glued to a Nepali beauty, Shini. A girl who never went to school, whose dusky skin and soft flesh were always covered with a loose Salwar-kameez ,she lived an austere life(who knows by choice or by chance)   and her deep hazel eyes  concealed the reality of her life ; Alas! who can empathize with the feeling of a girl who eloped with her lover leaving her parents behind and after 1 month of her marriage, her husband Birju left for India in order to earn …leaving her with a family of 8 viz. 2 buffaloes ,5 goats, and 1 cow. 

In that vapid room sleeping on the floor, he used to spend his nights listening to Honey Singh’s ‘Char bottle Vodka’ or Cursing Ahmedabad’s hot climate for his sleeplessness or regretting for leaving Shini alone in Nepal or worrying about how his wife would be managing to live alone or Suspecting if She would leave him ,eloping with another man . Few nights getting horny and masturbating or staring endlessly at their marriage pictures stored in his second hand Samsung phone hoping her wife to magically come out and on some long nights he would just miss his home, his people, his soil, his Nepal.
                                                **

‘Bhaiya, earthquake in Nepal’ a girl shouted from the threshold of her room while checking her Facebook account.

Observing the creases of that girls’ face, the nuances of her eyebrows he got assured that ‘no kidding’ work was going there. His heart started racing with greater speed, his mind was registering all the negative possibilities, and his face carried a broken look. The image of his smiling shini started floated before his eyes. He dialed her number again and again and it went ‘Not reachable’ for days, weeks, month, years…

                                             *
‘Bhaiya, where have you placed salt?’ a voice came from the kitchen.

And this time he looked forward to the red bra aiming to have a successful experiment in the kitchen.

                                                             ---Janvi Sonaiya