Fat factor: When I was done in by desi ghee

They say a woman’s figure is like an hour-glass. As time passes, the weight shifts to the bottom. Now that I have journeyed around the sun fifty times over, I too know what it is to be fighting the perpetual battle of the bulge.

Gone are the days when we could eat anything and not think about it. ‘Lakkar hajam,

pathar hajam (The power of digestion was supposed to be such that we could digest even wood and stones)’ is what mama used to say. Alas! Nothing lasts forever. Not even good digestion.

At our age, salads feel like a punishment and clear soups taste like dishwater. The proverbial daal-roti is perhaps the easiest on the tummy. Last night at a wedding, my husband opted for yellow dal tarka and tava roti at a most innocuous looking counter.

So delicious was the dal that he asked me why it couldn’t be like this at home. He told me to try some. I thought to myself, “Well, dal is dal. What can be so special about it anyways?” I watched intently, as the boy at the counter tempered the dal. Maybe I would learn something new … I saw a huge dollop of desi ghee being ladled into the pan with generous helpings of garlic, onion, tomato and green coriander.

The small helping of dal tipped in, sizzled angrily before

the boy dispensed some into my plate. As I had it, I realised it was all about the oodles of ghee. I remembered my mother saying, “Gheo banaye subjian, te

naam vaddi bhabhi da (Ghee is what makes the vegetables tasty; the credit goes to the lady who cooks.)”

The other day I had a party lunch where the menu was the typical spicy stuff that ladies go for.

There were golgappas and chaat, live counters for tikkis, dosas and chana bhatura to name a few. Over sizzling hot tikkis and bhaturas, gossip flowed freely.

While struggling to stuff the king-sized golgappa into my mouth, I eyed the golden brown bhatura in a friend’s plate. As a rule I prefer light food but for some reason I threw calorie caution to the winds, and walked up to the live counter to get a freshly fried golden bhatura.

As I waited, I casually asked the boy at the counter, “Bhayia, which oil do you use for frying? He smiled, raised his brows and said, “Desi ghee!” My jaw dropped. Desi ghee! Deep fried in desi ghee! Oh my God! All of a sudden I became aware of the aroma of ghee as it wafted in the air, and realised it was that which had drawn me to this counter.

Strangely, once more I heard my mother’s words ringing in my ears, “Sarea tel gheo varga, te sarea gheo swah varga (Smoked oil is like ghee, but smoked ghee is as useless as ash).”

I have to admit that I enjoyed every bite of that bombastic bhatura. Once home, I told my husband that I had a bhatura fried in desi ghee. He too was amazed. He exclaimed, “And of all the things, you chose to have chana bhatura? Are you in your senses?” Very sheepishly, I replied, “I don’t know, perhaps the smell of desi ghee enticed me.” I could still taste the ghee.

Perhaps it was empty calories; perhaps it was as useless as swah (ash) but nonetheless it was yum. I smiled as I stretched out for my siesta. Today, I’ve been greedy, tomorrow I shall start dieting.

I REMEMBERED MY MOTHER SAYING, “GHEO BANAYE SUBJIAN, TE NAAM VADDI BHABHI

DA (GHEE IS WHAT MAKES VEGETABLES TASTY; THE CREDIT GOES TO THE LADY WHO COOKS.)”