A hypothesis on why the seediest places have the best food and tea

Last Sunday I walked in all, 12 kilometers, just so I can taste good tea. Let me digress to say I envy motherfornicators like N.D. Tiwari who has everything intact at that age, because tea is the kryptonite to my digestive system. And I'm only in my early twenties. Let's put it this way, being in my vicinity after I have had tea on an empty stomach is the closest you'll come to experiencing a spirit bomb.

After I had walked around 5 kilometers, I finally reached the place and it was the dirtiest, blackest, seedy lair of eagles and carrion eaters (there was a beef market on that road) and flies. It made the the famous/notorious toilet scene from Trainspotting look tame in comparison. That's when I knew I was going to have the best tea I have had in quite some time there.

See, it's like this. When you live in a place like that, you know you're fucked. The pavement is as black as the road, the only way you can tell them apart is because of the cesspool in the gutters. All sorts of carrion eating creatures are visible, which means if you are brave enough, you'll be rewarded with the sight of a dumping ground of unwanted flesh, hide and bones. I'm squeamish already.

To add to that, you don't have enough disposable income to buy contraceptives and to keep your half dozen kids in school. Buying a truck to transport your populous family when you are not using it to transport freshly butchered meat is your idea of a good investment. Womens' idea of freedom is being let out of the house to buy groceries without a man having to supervise you.

When you are in a place like that you don't want to live. You secretly wish your life expectancy is much shorter than average. You want to die. You wish your adversaries and arch-nemesis live to a ripe old age. You want to die that bad. And when you are so desperate for it to end, you want it to end with a bang.

That's when I knew I'd be having great tea. I had two cups and a samosa.

No comments:

Post a Comment