Random Ramblings of a Reluctant Blogger

I hate upma. I can put it diplomatically, and that would be _ I just cannot come to love upma.  Oh yes I am sure there are a lot of those who would scream ‘blasphemy’ at my statement. But then I am just one of those who do not see any merit in the dish.

Does it mean I have never ever eaten it? No, I certainly have. As kids we are from the generation where being pampered meant surviving a day without getting a nice smack. Just a firm look was enough to tell us that our choice of food depended on what our mother made that day.  So those forced moments apart, upma  never made it to my list of foods to have. In fact it has always remained my ‘discomfort’ food.

My mother maintained that upma was one of the easiest and quickest foods to prepare. And especially when guests and relatives land up unannounced. Though I have no data to prove it, I firmly suspect that it also reflected on the hierarchy the guests occupied. The lower on the scale the more likely they get served the upma

Well, you can go ahead and shout discriminations and all that, but the fact remains that upma isn’t just my cup of tea. My aunt  has so very often tried to convert me with her various versions, but to me upma, by whatever name you call it, has remained a tasteless dish. 

The only way it can be made palatable is when it is served piping hot and one adds dollops of aachar to disguise whatever tasteless it has. The cold upma is a dish best served for revenge!

My son has imbibed my sterling qualities of upma hatredness. So it came as a shock the other day when I saw him quietly gulping down upma, which my wife had cleverly re-classified as vegetable khichdi! Now there is a perfect democracy in my home. And, unlike in our country, where majority opinion is termed as brute majority and looked down upon, majority voice counts and is heard. And I was seeing signs of a major regime change. For, except for my wife, me and my son are on the no-upma side. And here he was falling to a deceit A democratic coup was on the table. 

Things, however, stayed in my favour when my son, very charmingly, told his mother, “Amma, this time ok as you had very lovingly made it, but please do not make upma again,!”

And upma has since stayed off the menu. Till, of course, unannounced guests arrive. But then I would not be the one eating it.!