Carrots and mayo

So Lata massi has sent me another jar of mayonnaise. Didn8217;t take much prodding either. Just told her that I was out of mayo and, two da...

So Lata massi has sent me another jar of mayonnaise. Didn8217;t take much prodding either. Just told her that I was out of mayo and, two days later there was a jar waiting for me. A nondescript jar, unlike your Hellmen or Kraft jars, but you can bet your sweet life it was gonna be better than either. It always was.

So in the evening I tell my wife to cut me a few carrots and I take a small plastic tub and help myself to some mayonnaise. As I take a spoonful and put it in my little tub it is immediately evident that the consistency is just right. I take my mayo and my plate of carrots and depart into my study. I put on some jazz8212;it goes best with carrots and mayo8212;switch on the A/C and settle down. I pick up a carrot stick, dip it in the mayo and bite. It8217;s astonishing. The crunchiness of the carrot enhances the smoothness of the mayo. The slightly sweet taste of the carrot is offset by the deliciously creamy-eggy taste of the mayo. I finish one and start on another.

My enthusiasm, initially, is so great that the carrots disappear at an alarming pace. I soon realise that the faster you eat the carrots the less time you have to enjoy them. I slow down so as to enjoy the carrots more. The saxophonist has just hit a purple patch. The A/C is cooling just right. Soon the balance changes. The plate which was, at the start, more red than white is now more white than red. Now I have run out of carrots. I still have mayo left in the tub. I go into the kitchen and get myself some more carrots. I start all over again, being more generous with the mayonnaise this time. The initial desperation is gone and I am slightly satiated. I tell myself to become more aware of the taste. Feel the smoothness. Dissolve into it. Zen Mayo. Zen Carrot. Soon the mayo is over8212;but there are some carrots left.

I reluctantly leave the chair. Go to the fridge and refill my tub, all the while thanking Lata massi for her generosity. She never hesitates when I ask. She never questions my need for mayo. I suspect she has some secret way of whipping the mayo into shape. She has given my wife the recipe but despite my wife following it to the 8216;T8217;, it never seems to come out just right.

I make myself comfortable and begin the old regimen again. Soon I am out of carrots. And there8217;s still some mayo left. It would be criminal to waste it. I go back to the kitchen and ask for more carrots. My wife throws up her hands in exasperation, 8220;We are out of carrots, enough is enough. Do you want some cucumbers instead, or a radish?8221; I am shocked. No more carrots? Now what will I do with the remaining mayo? Like a good jugalbandhi the carrots and mayo have blended perfectly. It would be a sacrilege to finish off the mayo with a stick of cucumber or radish.

I retreat to the table, stare at my little mayo tub and slowly lick the remains of the mayo with my finger. The spell has finally been broken.