Yes. Men Should Learn Cooking!

He is a man of short stature and wheatish complexion. Close to black and too far from fair. Of about 30-35 years old and four feet two inches, roughly. Very thin. Perhaps at a 99.99th percentile on the thin-men list on the earth, excluding those in space and Namibia. He has no moustache. His hands and legs are short and hairless. Bony face. Always wearing a seriouslook on his face and a trouser-like thing hanging down his waist which resembles something between full-pants and knickers. I also confirmed, it’s not a three-fourth too. He is none other than Napolean Bonaparte, 'the little corporal'.
Sorry. I was lying. He is our cook Tapan (pronounced ‘Tapan’). I usually address him as Tapanji, to motivate him to do my snacks after returning from office - usually masala papad, gold fingers, upma or jeera rice made from previous day’s white rice - amdist his busy schedule of maincourse cooking.

He was recruited through a referral, our present bai (from the marathi word meaning ‘bai’) who was inturn recruited through our previous bai (also from the same marathi word as above) who left our service to pursue other career opportunities. The panel – we four roomies- took a gruelling interview of Tapan. The core strength, as the panel found, was Tapan is very innovative in nature. Though he has had a short stint in his previous engagement as a cook, he sounded like a man of confidence and a symbol of integrity. Tapan’s culinary abilities were not so convincing although we understand it’s not reasonable on our part to judge one’s culinary abilities from the way one talks. Yet, the panel was satisfied with his interpersonal skills and appointed him rightaway. Tapan’s sole responsibility is to cook dinner for us everyday and lunch+dinner during weekends. Salary and other perquisites sum upto Rs 1000/- per month. A note: The writer understands salary and perquisite details are very confidential information. However, he wants to let the readers know Tapan allowed the writer to disclose his compension details on condition of anonymity.

Our bai who referred him asked us some money. Upon enquiry we came to know she was talking about referral bonus. We couldn’t, but obliged. In an attempt to leverage on our helplessness, Tapan proposed for a joining bonus too, but we denied. However we were forced to promise for a discretionary bonus based on his performance, every six months. He was on probation for one week, and we confirmed him thereafter.

It’s been close to six months now after his appointment. So, time for Tapan’s performance appraisal:

1. It was his night of joining. That morning he brought with him a casserole full of pleasing Poha* and requested each of us to taste it and give him our feedback. We understood his intention of giving us a feel of his culinary abilities. We were impressed at Tapan’s gesture. A defined responsibility of cooking dinner only, yet brought us breakfast that morning. Exceeded expectations the very first day.(*Trivia to the ignorant soul: Poha is the 'Compulsory Official Breakfast' in all company canteens in Maharashtra, except on Thursdays, where saabudaana kichdi takes the lead. It is usually made of flattened rice (avil), looks as yellow as turmeric, contains fried peanuts, curryleaves, and all other animate and inanimate beings fallen into it with/without the maker’s knowledge. A plate ranges from Rs 5 to Rs 15, or free of cost if you leave the canteen without paying)

2. One fine night while having dinner, we found solid pieces of mango (from the tamil word ‘manga’ meaning ‘manga’ in tamil) in the dal. Upon enquiry, he said he has used the mango-pickle bottle on the table to give the dal more sourness and make it more delectable. Next day onwards, we started storing all the pickle bottles in the almirah instead of the usual kitchen table. While preparing dal the next day, he was ransacking the entire kitchen. We didn’t speak a word.

3. One fine day, another roomie, who returned from Hyderabad after a week’s vacation, was questioning us as to who finished his recently bought Lion dates dabba.

4. Another fine night while having dinner, each of us found a large piece of ginger (from the malayalam word ‘inji’, meaning ‘ginger’ in tamil) in tomato curry. During a one-on-one with roomie-3, Tapan said he found some ginger pieces lying on the table and doesn’t like to waste anything and hence threw them into the curry. Some other day, one of my roomies was searching for his lost suitcase key.

5. I was back from office and switched on the TV. Tapan came to me and without even soliciting for it, he offered me a cup of lemon tea. I asked him ‘why did you make this Tapanji, I didn’t ask for it na?” He said “It is good for fat people like you, coz it helps you lose fat” I was speechless. He continued “Ji, mera sar bhi darad dera, isi liye lemon tea banaya, aap bhi piyo, aapki charbhi kam hogi”. Then I understood the nature of his concern for me and the reason for the unsolicited lemon tea

6. One evening, I shopped vegetables including palak (a kind of leafy vegetable with leaves). While leaving home after the night’s cooking, Tapan said he is carrying home the entire palak bunch with him because he has some paneer at home and his wife loves palak paneer.

7. Upon frequent complaints from us regarding the bland taste of his dal and other variants, one fine night Tapan cooked some dal-like thing. He indicated he made the night’s dal very very spicy and challenged that we would definitely love it. Next morning, at around 5-45 am, one of the roomies was shouting from the loo to immediately get a fire-extinguisher for him. The rest of us waited for our turn.

p.s. my cholesterol-intensive heart is a bit scared about the consequences if Tapan reads this blog.