Friday, November 20, 2020

Okra and other scary monsters

 I rarely cook okra. There is a reason. However, reason at times, evades the mind.

I pick a bunch of ladies’ fingers or lady’s fingers (not sure which), as it is known in Indian English, from the grocery store. I wonder why I dread it so much. After all, I no longer gag while eating it. Ahem… if in a sentence, the word “gag”is strung so close to the vegetable… Enuff said, you say?

The day I decide to cook it, I must first tear myself away from my book – a retelling of Greek mythological events from the female mythical character’s viewpoint. As I cut the vegetable into neat, uniform, green circles, my thoughts remain immersed in the world of Gods and demons -murderous Medea, mystical Circe, enchantments and miracles, hexes and curses. I decide the vegetable name would fit well within Greek mythology - both the Marathi name, bhendi, and the English name, okra. Would it be a God, demon, nymph, monster, demi-god…my mind trails… I decide to move away from Greek allusions, but the spectacle in the pan before me tells me otherwise…

Just as in my book, the nymph Scylla is transformed into a scary monster, the crisp and clean green rings seem to mutate right before my eyes. Silky skeins emerge from their sides. Soon the skeins are ropes and they wickedly entangle the other okra pieces that refuse to emit the slime. Soon the poor innocents are entangled in their slimy grip and the evil energy of the slime seems to grow – in power and force and brutality… it takes on a life of its own…

I imagine it swelling and swaying, growing and moving, outside of the pan… the spell is cast and there is no return. Its slimy strings grow into long lengthy arms, snake-like arms, engulfing me, swallowing me up in its goopy gulp, and then move on to devour the dog, the sofa, members of my family upstairs, and finally the house.

Agreed, quarantine has been long and the imagination seems to be on steroids, but again, trauma by okra is very real. And it deserves its space and ink.

As I stand there, staring at it mindlessly, waiting for it to swallow me, I muster a little courage, a little determination… and a little lemon juice. Stop, right there, Okra! I’ll kill your goop with acid, my valiant inner Greek goddess arises to vanquish the monster.  I return from the fridge, armed with lemons, some dried coconut, and of course, as per my husband’s request, ground roasted peanuts. I add it all in, stir nervously, attempt to break the goop, and leave it to cook uncovered. I turn my gaze away, too scared to make eye contact with the monsters growing in the pan.

Slowly the slime is contained, the monsters lose their long slimy arms, the spell is destroyed, the hex is broken. The slimy monsters in the pan, give up, dry up and the green cut rings emerge victorious.

This is not a victory I had imagined would be mine. I had conceded defeat, yet moved through the motions, not with any particular hope. Or faith. There really had been no huge determination – mostly some revulsion, and a slow stench of impending defeat. And even if I continued to move through the motions, with no particular hope for success, it came. Slowly. Unexpectedly.

I wonder how many times, and how many things I go through with the same energy. And the same lack of faith. In myself. And in doing so, how often do I make the monsters bigger and stronger, giving them more powers than they may truly possess?  Slimy, Spiderman-skills, snake-like arms, multiple ferocious heads, and others, that a robust imagination conjures.

Yes, okra (and all you other monsters) - you have your powers, and yet, I have mine. Even when they may seem muted and muffled, in the wake of your spellbinding histrionics, even if, I am the one who make them out to be so mesmerizing and massive.

Next time, I hope I can turn and glance at, and have a little faith, in my own quiet strength and power, rather than the hypnotic alluring of the monsters before me… in the pan or outside.

And now that my head wears the laurels… it knows it is wise to keep an eye on the inner strength, and most importantly, it knows now… how to tame the okra.  


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