1 In India, chutney is a relish which is created by grinding certain vegetables and spices to a thin or thick paste.
Very stately, not-so-very middle-aged and clearly a respectable personality, Ms. Amla Supari glided from her bed into those soft slippers. Stretching her, no-doubt elegant body, she walked a lazy walk into the bathroom that early Saturday morning. And there was nothing unusual about the sensuality associated with this simple routine. Ask those peeping neighbors if you don't believe me. Somewhere in her late thirties, her younger admirers were left guessing her age, lusting for this unattainable spinster.
Indeed a very beautiful person, that is if simplicity was the essence of judgment; Ms. Amla Supari was always looked at with a certain degree of awe by her peers and colleagues. Behind the shroud of secrecy cast by her closed Venetian blinds of the night, lay the fantasies they could but imagine.
Out she'd come of her bathroom after her morning chores, in her forever-silk gown and gracefully pull the strings of the blinds, letting rays of the morning sun be blessed by contact with her full body. And she'd move about the room arranging it, her footsteps, movement of hands being in tune with a familiar song humming itself out of her lips, just-by-the-way.
She held her neck in a slanted position and waved a good-morrow to the budding engineers that were passing below her apartment en route to their weekend classes. She was perfectly aware of the feelings and muscles she had made to twitch and stiffen within those young souls. She giggled at the fantasies her mind pictured with those young bodies, moments after they disappeared from her view.
She enjoyed all the material pleasures that the proceeds of her work allowed her to buy. Music brought her peace, work helped retain her sanity. Film, theater and television entertained her. Fine literature gave her company and enriched her mind. Change was what she feared. And wasn't she so very correct. Whoever would want unnecessary (mis)adventures to add bumps to their smooth city lives? Not the likes of her. Not to change - no marriage, no children, no men - except when she was overwhelmed by the forbidden feelings and an affair or two soon followed and became a child of some nostalgic past.
She looked in the mirror adjusting her tender curls reasserting the fact that "Yes, I am happy". And indeed she was. She had that something that added the proverbial spice to her life. She had a passion. One that she and only she knew. Not even the local grocery store owner had any idea about it. Her truest of loves; winner numero uno of her heart. Silent, lifeless, expressionless and yet the fulfiller of her every desire; that which showered pleasures which were of the order of being orgasmic.
Mr. Dalal's eyes were transfixed on her kitchen window as he stood in his balcony sipping morning tea. As the blinds revealed the silk princess, he raised his cup and sent her a wide smile. She waved her hand and went about setting herself some breakfast fully aware that Mr. Dalal was observing her. She liked teasing men. Made her feel like being in control.
Bread to toast, a single egg omelet and a sausage. Glass full of milk. Soon they lay on her table, inviting her to consume them. No. Something was missing - the thing, the experience. She extracted her knife from the drawer and opened the kitchen door. Thirty one of them lay there in from of her. All marked. One for each day. She took out the thirteenth. Opened it. And the air filled with the emotions its contents were touted to convey. The whole City's favorite! Tavaykar Chutneys!
In went the knife grabbing a generous helping of their new Bliss flavor. And soon it became an ornament on the inside of her sandwich. She placed herself on the chair and bit half a mouthful of the food. She let the morsel settle inside. Then she let the chutney drain from the sandwich, touch her tongue and glide down her gullet. Yes. Yes! Yes! Yes!
They were true to their word. Absolute joy, just the right mix of feelings and - Bliss. Oh, the feeling! The sandwich was long gone but its aura remained. More so the aura of the chutney. And she was in heaven.
Tavaykar Chutneys, Tavaykar Chutneys
Best of the best, we are Tavaykar Chutneys.
Not just the regulars, we have super-special flavors,
The best one for each of the family members.
Feelings, emotions bottled inside,
In Tavaykar Chutneys they all reside.
Come one come all, enjoy the taste...
Two bottles for one, for a limited time - run! Make haste.
Tavaykar Chutneys, Tavaykar Chutneys
Best of the best, we are Tavaykar Chutneys.
The City's favorite commercial was airing in between the movie. Everybody could relate to the flavors. The feelings were genuine. Millions testified to that fact. Talk show hosts ran specials on the social upheaval Tavaykar Brothers Pvt. Ltd. had brought in the City. People used to be indifferent. These days families sat down together to eat. They understood what one felt about the other. If you hated someone, eat he flavor of Love and present it to the one you hate. There - you got yourself a friend.
Yes. Tavaykar Chutneys were a boon to the City. The Grand Old Man Nathuram Tavaykar started his small business in a tiny hutment in the huge and notorious slums of Gharavee, many years ago. They had a slow beginning. But about a decade and three ago he hit on the Master formula. For making chutneys that had flavors which stirred emotive forces within you. Tavaykar Chutneys rose to the top. People gave up every other brand, even stopped making chutneys at home. Tavaykar's three sons expanded their business across the country. Their financial empire grew grew grew. The biggest Chutney manufacturing plant in the world was assembled with state of the art Japanese technology. They took over every competitor, by hook or by crook. People did not care about such minor scandals. They were deep into enjoying the superb and addictive taste of the greatest product to hit the City's market since Naggi Noodles.
Such a huge manufacturing facility. It was a city on its own. Heavily guarded. Old man Tavaykar was very paranoid about guarding his secret recipe. Every employee was screened before they were hired. Women only. Strong, powerful, intelligent and trust worthy - yes - trust worthy.
The shroud of secrecy that entombed the plant had never brought about skepticism or doubt in the people. That was because Tavaykar was a very smart man. From time to time they would choose at random, a modest group of people to visit their facility at Chikuji Ni Wadi and go on a guided tour through the Town of Oral Paradise. The Iron Curtain of sorts would lift once a month and let in about five to ten blessed souls to witness creation of bliss, ecstasy, maturity, love and such marvelous flavors.
Amla Supari had always fantasized being there. She had dreamt of huge churners of perpetual taste. Of a million bottles full of feelings ready on the finishing line to be consumed. By her. Hence her hands were shaking that Saturday noon. She held a courier delivered package in her hand. It held a single letter. The letter head said Tavaykar Brothers Pvt. Ltd., Guided Tours Division, Chikuji Ni Wadi, Shahar 500102. By the time she finished reading the short formal note, she was in tears.
Dear Ms. Amla Supari:
We at Tavaykar Brothers Pvt. Ltd. would like to
congratulate you heartily for having been selected
from a final list of about seventy thousand contenders
to be one of eight lucky people to be taken on a
guided tour of our plant here at Chikuji Ni Wadi.
Please be present at the gates of the plant on
Sunday February 29th promptly at 7:15am. Remember to
bring with you, this letter and two forms of valid
identification...
She could read no further. Tears of joy had blurred her vision. At last. She was the chosen one. After many years of waiting her dreams would come true. She could hardly wait for that fateful Sunday to come.'Wait a moment! Sunday? Sunday! Oh my God! Tomorrow!'
She fainted with ecstasy.
She woke up at four in the morning. All ready and excited to go to Chikuji Ni Wadi. She wanted to call everyone she knew and tell them about her true passion and how it was finally going to be realized. 'In the evening, that can occur in the evening. They will all be there drooling in awe. Yes, I am going! Tavaykar Chutney - my love, here I come...
By six thirty she was there. Right smack in front of the doors to her Utopia. 'Oh how gorgeous and awe inspiring were they. Tall stately gates, colored in the most intricate of patterns. Cameras, cameras everywhere watching her every emotion, her every move. Yes, Chutney Town, I have nothing to hide. I love you.
Seven others showed up as entranced and excited as she. They were facing the gates of Tavaykar Brothers Pvt. Ltd. All seemed to come from different walks of life; of different ages. She felt the others to be do disjoint from her that she never even bothered to look at their faces, let alone starting a conversation. Seven fourteen and the gates started to open. She was impressed. Just to gauge their ability to handle perfection she had set her watch to the exact television time. They handled it well.
Almost silently the gates slid into the walls. And yonder stood a woman in a white coat wearing the sweetest of smiles. How envious Amla Supari felt seeing the expression of pride and satisfaction on that woman's physiognomy.
"Welcome, chosen ones, to the Chutney town. The land where flavor has found a new definition.
Not just the regulars, we have super-special flavors,
One for each of the family members.
Feelings, emotions bottled inside,
In Tavaykar Chutneys they all reside..."
'Yeah, yeah, cut the crap out, let us in. I want to see this place, I remember the jingle by heart' Amla Supari grumbled in her mind. Amla Supari was getting impatient. Yonder athwart in the thick cover of green she got a glimpse of Eden. She was still getting over the fact that she was there. So many things were happening she was having a hard time keeping her head on her shoulders.
"... we will be starting from a brief tour of the Tavaykar Chutney museum on to some breakfast.
Then we will be visiting the main assembly plant whereby will be unraveled upon you such a conglomeration of tastes that you have never experienced before. Let us start with this little security formality; if you could please step in through the green zone with your papers ready. Thank you very much."
It was finally happening!
"... And so the grand Mr. Tavaykar at this point invented a marvelous recipe which, as he had put it then, `was whispered into his ears by the Gods themselves.' After this moment in history we all know what blessed us in every Shahar household..."
And the Chutney woman went on and on. Her sweet voice blended into the ambient sounds of the birds, squirrels passing trucks-full-of-taste - and as they neared the main manufacturing facility - the humming and grunting of the machinery. Amla Supari was lost. In the pictures on the wall, on the trees, on the street - everywhere inside Chutney town she found a place she could blend into.
Soon breakfast was behind them. Wondrous Pakodas and Samosas with a generous helping of their brand new flavors. With each morsel quivering her taste buds and nerves she was getting more and more eager to witness the making of this wonder of the world.
"...And now my dear friends, it is time! Behold the main plant. Where bliss, joy, satisfaction, awe, nostalgia blend themselves forever into bottles full of Tavaykar Chutneys...."
The door into the plant opened. A whiff of fragrance and a strange feeling that seemed like a mixture of a thousand and one emotive forces surrounded her as she entered into the huge plant. The roof - she started from there. It was high - very high. At least a hundred feet up there stood blowers of some sort.
Bringing in that fragrance from somewhere - where? As her eyes moved downwards she stretched her vision to see the end of the building. It did not look so deep from the outside. It seemed to go on forever.
Eyes moved around. Clad in while, hair covered with caps, bodies moving silently, gracefully - scores of women worked on different aspects of chutney making. Conveyer belts moved bottles full of secret all around big machines. Pumps hither inhaled and yonder they exhaled. Unknown greens, reds and browns blended in precise proportions elsewhere. Huge containers getting filled with chili, cilantro, an assortment of vegetable, mangoes, garlic, ginger... this, that and the other. Crushers going into action every few minutes grinding liquefying everything into greens, reds and browns. Water mixed, spices spewed overwhelming fragrances in every direction.
Bottles moved, women worked, managers with pads made notes; their lips whispered in the ears of the workers secret words that drowned into the mechanical clutter, splutter and clanking before it reached Amla Supari's ears. All women looked the same, all women seemed to be moving in harmony with the machines. All except herself and her fellow visitors and their ever-so-sweet host. The exit to the facility was far behind her. She was lost in the plant's aura just like she used to get lost in the taste of bliss - her favorite flavor. One by one her hosts faded away. She did not want them there and all that remained was she and her ever-so-sweet host. Moving slowly in harmony with the machines.
'A door. A door! Standing there by itself. No walls to hold it. Hold it! No no no. Goodness! What an incredible illusion!' The plant was never so deep after all. She was not looking hard enough. It was a perfectly painted wall. The painting was so well done that it seemed as if the plant was twice as deep. The way the room was illuminated made the painting seem to shift just enough so that you'd feel that processes similar to what went on around her, went on beyond the wall. Hats off to the people who conceived of such a fantastic idea. But the door gave it all away. It was so out of place that it seemed as if it was meant to betray the illusion.
Their path into the plant brought them closer to the door. She could see an identification card scanner at the door. And a big plaque on it stating that unauthorized personnel were not permitted to enter. There were yellow coats and caps hanging on the wall besides the door. A woman with a pad approached the door, changed into the yellow attire, scanned the ID she had around her neck and entered the door. Soon, a couple of women came out with some heavy bags that looked like out-of-shape suitcases. They changed into the white coat and head gear and went on.
From time to time people went in and out maintaining the uniform dress code. She got inquisitive. Something special was going on inside. Perhaps this is where the secret recipes were mixed. Yes! I must go in. But how?
She snapped herself back to reality for a moment to see her fellow visitors completely lost in their host's conversation. She slipped away from the crowd. No one was noticing her. No one seemed to be missing her. She had, very tactfully pulled a yellow coat off the wall. Soon she was walking confidently towards the door. A woman came out of the door. Very casually, Amla Supari grabbed the handle an instant before the door closed and locked itself. Nervously she opened it and silently slid in.
For full minute she had to hold on to the hand rail so as to keep herself from falling down. She almost fainted. There was no equivalent to the feeling that she had the instant she entered the chamber. So many intense, pure, unadulterated emotions filled her that she could not hold herself on her feet. She was baffled at the ability of the women in the plant to withstand such a sudden onslaught of feelings as one entered the door and the sudden deprivation of the same feelings once they left this part of the plant.
She steadied herself. Her head stopped spinning after a while and her body adapted to the surrounding. This part was not as well lit as the other. It was in the basement. She was on a passage-way in the air that had paths emanating from it taking one in different directions upwards or downwards. Down there was where she saw more yellow-clad women doing the same job as the others outside. There were the managers. Quickly she walked over to a section which seemed fairly abandoned and stood there observing the show from her perch.
The machines here were very big. Way up there she saw the raw material being poured into huge churners or crushers or whatever they were. A thick semi-liquid pulp came out of the base of the container and went and mixed into another. This seemed like a mixer of sorts.
Bags full of another set of ingredients were hoisted from another conveyer belt in to this mixer. More clanking, clunking and such before the chutney poured itself into jars. There were rows of jars each with a different flavor - emotion. She felt a familiar taste - emotion coming from somewhere down the facility. She walked over there. It was the Bliss flavor all right. And she was happy again.
Her dream had come true. Her divine goal had been achieved. She had truly fathomed the feeling of absolute bliss. She wanted to dance with joy but she controlled the overflow of feelings. She saw another manager climb up to the mixer and start writing notes in her pad. That woman looked at Amla Supari and beckoned her to climb up to the mixer. Amla Supari got nervous. But climbed up to her anyway.
"Hello, are you a visitor?" the woman asked Amla Supari in the sweetest of voices.
"Yes," Amla Supari was still nervous.
"You know that you are not supposed to be here and are subject to be prosecuted."
"Yes I am very sorry. All this seemed so inviting. Especially my favorite flavor. Please let me leave. I will go join my group and never mention I was here."
"It is all right. Please do not worry. Almost every visit we have an over-inquisitive visitor. It is perfectly OK. You can hang around with me. But only for a while. Then I will escort you out."
"Oh thank you - thank you very much. God bless you...", Amla Supari was relieved, happy and grateful right down to her heart. The woman smiled a sweet comforting smile and went about taking her notes.
"So is Bliss your favorite flavor?" she asked Amla Supari without looking at her.
"Oh yes indeed. I love Bliss. Can't do without eating it at least once a day." Amla Supari knew she had made a friend. "Since Bliss was my favorite too, I was hired to be in charge of this flavor. Now I am supervising the entire process of manufacturing Bliss." There was a distinct voice of pride reverberating in her as she related her story to Amla Supari. And Amla Supari was very impressed. The manager continued, "Come to think of it, we are in short supply of people right now. Would you be interested in becoming a part of us?"
Amla Supari could not believe it. She was so happy that tears started running down her eyes. Without hesitation she said yes. "As soon as I am done here, let me set you up for the interview and such other formalities. Till then please be with me."
'Oh yes, oh yes. I will do what ever you say. I will kiss the ground you walk on, I will sweep the floors, do anything to be here. Thank my stars, oh God - thank you, thank you so very much...'
Amla Supari could not believe where the events of the day had lead her. She was soon going to be a part of the dream itself. This is what she had desired since the day she had first tasted Tavaykar Chutneys. She filled her eyes with a view of the area which was soon to be her work place. The belts carrying bottles full of a hard day's work. She could not count the endless possibilities that came her mind's way.
The manager had stopped taking her notes and seemed to be packing up. She removed a hammer out of her big bag, swung it with all her might and brought it to rest on Amla Supari's head. After experiencing a sharp spike of pain in her head, Amla Supari blacked out and blissfully slumped to the floor.
The manager spent a moment taking readings from the head of Amla Supari. The timing had been perfect. The emotion was intact within the body.
The manager, still holding the sweet smile on her face, spoke gently on her walkie-talkie to the crane operator. The conveyer belt paused for a moment. The crane that was picking up bags full of raw material stopped. It moved towards Amla Supari's body. It picked up her body and hoisted her into the mixer. The conveyer belt restarted. The crane went about its business picking up more bags off the conveyer.
The manager picked her pad, made notes on her pad regarding the addition of the Bliss flavor to her new batch and that it was ready to be packed and went about her business too.
© 2001 Rahul C. Thakkar