A Tradition Bound Indian (TBI) celebrated his birthday and there were many Indians, Ethiopians and a smattering of European teachers who attended the birthday party. As is customary many of the guests brought small gifts and tokens of appreciation.
Most of the gifts were consumed quickly or stored away for future use or to be used as birthday gifts which could be off loaded to unsuspecting kids. TBI was totally taken aback by the large box of chocolates gifted by one of the European teachers from PEDA.
If it had been any other teachers from any other country, he would have simply gifted it away. Hoarding comes naturally to Indians. Using and extracting the last part of any product is wired and is part of his DNA.
One of my friend exclaimed in exasperation “We Indians!! we will drink Phenyl if we get it free!!!”. I added, “Not only will we drink the Phenyl but sell the empty bottle to the Raddi (plastic bottle recycler) fellow”.
Such is the “extend the use till the last drop” syndrome of the Indians. Another Indian wittily asked “what do Indians do with old shaving blades?” and answered the question himself “Silly question, the answer is simple – We shave with OLD BLADES!”.
TBI was nonplussed at the size of the box. It was a huge box and it had dark chocolate blocks, all individually wrapped. Indians born in the 60s and 70s were not very fond of chocolates. Chocolates were perceived as a product consumed by the kids.
TBI unwrapped one chocolate and tentatively took a bite. The taste almost knocked him off. It had the most peculiar taste, he had ever experienced. It was very bitter and not at all sweet. TBI was stumped. He somehow managed to eat the very bitter and awful tasting chocolate.
From that day onwards TBI dreaded his dinner. After the frugal meal that he was accustomed (TBI was a pure vegetation, and a teetotaller – He never had a drop of alcohol in his life), he would take another block of chocolate and consume it. This was the most puzzling part – he could have simply thrown the offensive chocolate away or given the box away. But TBI was not wired that way. Tightening his Loins, he would undergo the unbearable torture every night and religiously consume a chocolate.
This had become a daily routine and to his horror he realized that he was liking the bitter taste. Heart in heart he was waiting for his daily fix. He was getting used, rather getting addicted.
Quite accidentally one day in PEDA, he met the European teacher who gifted him the chocolate box. He grudgingly told him “the chocolates are fine. The taste was bitter and very different. But with lot of difficulty I could eat the first one. After lot of struggle, I am able to consume one a day. Infact I have started liking the taste” Just to spice the conversation, TBI added “Those are wonderful as sleep inducers. I am able to sleep well”.
The European’s face was flushed. He was struggling with some internal emotions. He finally burst out “Are you telling me that you don’t know what those chocolates are? Did you consume them all by yourselves, and you ate them one per day?????”.
The European was staring at TBI as if he was Yeti, the legendary snowman. He was sputtering and stammering. It was as if someone sat on him and knocked the wind out.
A glimmer of realization and an awful feeling started stirring and creeping in TBI’s mind. He asked with an almighty quiver “what do you mean type of chocolate? And what do you mean by asking me ‘did you consume them all by yourself???”.
By now the European had a smirk on his face “Yes Sir, they were not normal chocolates. They were Liquor Candy. Chocolate that have generous amount of liquor. The ones that I gave you were from Switzerland and they were chocolates full of RUM”.
He added with a grin “I never knew that you would consume them all. The custom is to share among friends and get done with them”. “Lucky you” the European exclaimed “you have not only consumed them all but seems to have got used to the taste. YOU MUST have LOVED the Rummy taste. You are a quite a RUMMY GUY!!!!”. To top it all, The European gave a leering smile and a knowing wink.
TBI was shocked. The Five Foot Four TBI would have happily chocked the offensive Six and a half feet tall ‘ear to ear grinning’ European teacher with his hands and gone to the jail. But he realized that the entire episode would be out in the open. He would become the laughing stock, first at the university, next in Bahirdar and finally in India.
Swallowing his pride, the shock of the revelation and the bile that had swelled upto his throat, TBI humbly returned to his home. He was a beaten man; his soul was crushed. TBI brushed his teeth with enormous amount of tooth paste –the first time in his life. He cried in despair. The enamel might come off but the damage has been done. As he splashed water on his weary teeth and reddened gums, he told himself “It is of no use, I am a drunkard now. I will have to take this to my grave!”.
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His lifelong penance of being a teetotaller was broken. He was addicted to alcohol as alcoholics who drink and brawl in the small and dinky bars in India. After that day TBI was a changed person. He would check with others about any product that he had a doubt. When in doubt he would simply refrain from using the product. He had learnt his lesson the hard way. Once Bitten (I mean once eaten) twice shy!
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