The Food Truck or the Secret Life of Momos
It is not often that I read something I have previously written and come away satisfied. Curiously, the same rarely applies to sketches I may have made. Either I think too much of my drawing or too little of my writing or perhaps everything is perfect or nothing is or maybe we are all just bags of plasma and connective tissue wrapped in a thin skins waiting to be steamed when the oceans boil over as the fires consume this fragile dumpling we call a planet.
And thus it happened in the Year of the Backwards Facing Artichoke that two weary travelers ambled down the badlands known as Lokhandwala when they were faced with a sight that would have struck down lesser men. Had a passing bulbul (Pycnonotus cafer) been able to comprehend their mouth-speak, the following is what it might have heard-
A: Ah, we come upon yon foul beast, spewing forth its pale clammy spawn with impunity.
B: Bhaiya, two plates of momos- one fried, one steamed.
A: Come hither ye yellow monstrosity, that we may end thee and drink from thy skull (note: weary travelers in the badlands tend not to be grammatically particular).
B: And one lemonade with the momos please. Thank you.
It didn't take long for the juicy momos or the spicy sauce accompanying them to be consumed. There was no drinking from skulls, but from a flimsy disposable glass, which would have been disappointing except that the lemonade was rather refreshing. Mammy's Kitchen and Grill lives to feed another day. The two travelers continued their pilgrimage, with full bellies and wallets that went through the experience surprisingly unscathed.
In related news, I found this on Google-
And it got me thinking- Why indeed are momos dangerous and what have they done to be banned in this country? What treachery must that perfidious morsel be planning to be banned from the country? And how many plots must the terror from Tibet have hatched in order to be considered dangerous. Bob Dylan said it best in his masterpiece 'Blowing in the wind (so that the momo doesn't burn my tongue)'-
And thus it happened in the Year of the Backwards Facing Artichoke that two weary travelers ambled down the badlands known as Lokhandwala when they were faced with a sight that would have struck down lesser men. Had a passing bulbul (Pycnonotus cafer) been able to comprehend their mouth-speak, the following is what it might have heard-
A: Ah, we come upon yon foul beast, spewing forth its pale clammy spawn with impunity.
B: Bhaiya, two plates of momos- one fried, one steamed.
A: Come hither ye yellow monstrosity, that we may end thee and drink from thy skull (note: weary travelers in the badlands tend not to be grammatically particular).
B: And one lemonade with the momos please. Thank you.
It didn't take long for the juicy momos or the spicy sauce accompanying them to be consumed. There was no drinking from skulls, but from a flimsy disposable glass, which would have been disappointing except that the lemonade was rather refreshing. Mammy's Kitchen and Grill lives to feed another day. The two travelers continued their pilgrimage, with full bellies and wallets that went through the experience surprisingly unscathed.
In related news, I found this on Google-
And it got me thinking- Why indeed are momos dangerous and what have they done to be banned in this country? What treachery must that perfidious morsel be planning to be banned from the country? And how many plots must the terror from Tibet have hatched in order to be considered dangerous. Bob Dylan said it best in his masterpiece 'Blowing in the wind (so that the momo doesn't burn my tongue)'-
How much oil must a poor momo drink
Before you fry him in a pan
How much blowing does a fresh momo take
Before you can hold it in your hand
Yes, 'n' how many times must momos be eaten
Before they're forever banned
The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind
The answer is blowin' in the wind
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