Ah the fish shop!!
I love walking into a fish shop. It gets back memories when bawa chettan screams out "Chechiyeaaa"
It reminds me when our Indian version of Marley the dog, sings out "AOOOOOOO" like he lost a nut or so when the neighbour meen-chettan zzoooms across in his petti-auto!!
Selecting the fish for the week is one of the huge decisions we need to make in our daily lives. Phew!! One wrong move and we have a useless carcass in the freezers.
You walk in!! and the aroma of the thousands of them drifts you to another level of life.
The millions of the house flies buzzes around, Few of the older flies lazy even to lift their ass off.
The fishes of different sizes and shapes. You know what you are going to pick out at the end, the first time you enter. But as the ritual goes you would need to make eye contact with each of those innocent victims. Scan them from head to fin. Ask the chettan across the counter how much each type will cost. We ponder on the cost, the fish, the aroma, the freshness etc. We run through our checklist in our head. We again roundin on our prey. We are almost sure the path we going to choose, until you have a hand come in from behind asking the chettan to pack a 1000 milligrams of the other fish. It featured second in your choice list. O man!! We start again from the begining. The pondering, the enquiring, the fortune thinking, the pandora box of thoughts open up.
And in the end after dealing with all those ideologies of 'ayala' being a source of itch, and 'mathi' being the tank of nutrients , and 'neimeen' being the juciest of them all, and 'natholi' being a very high maintance fish. Phew!! We finally end up picking those shiny black pomfrets home, the ones you had decided in the first place.
But the mysterious part is, that a trip to the fish stall is always an enlightening one.
The time consuming decision making, the homely flies, the rich aroma, the hallucination and finally the black bag you take home.All worth the wait once you have the super slurrpy glistening red meen curry on your table.
Inspired by my latest walk to the overcrowded fish stall.
Happy Mabre.
I love walking into a fish shop. It gets back memories when bawa chettan screams out "Chechiyeaaa"
It reminds me when our Indian version of Marley the dog, sings out "AOOOOOOO" like he lost a nut or so when the neighbour meen-chettan zzoooms across in his petti-auto!!
Selecting the fish for the week is one of the huge decisions we need to make in our daily lives. Phew!! One wrong move and we have a useless carcass in the freezers.
You walk in!! and the aroma of the thousands of them drifts you to another level of life.
The millions of the house flies buzzes around, Few of the older flies lazy even to lift their ass off.
The fishes of different sizes and shapes. You know what you are going to pick out at the end, the first time you enter. But as the ritual goes you would need to make eye contact with each of those innocent victims. Scan them from head to fin. Ask the chettan across the counter how much each type will cost. We ponder on the cost, the fish, the aroma, the freshness etc. We run through our checklist in our head. We again roundin on our prey. We are almost sure the path we going to choose, until you have a hand come in from behind asking the chettan to pack a 1000 milligrams of the other fish. It featured second in your choice list. O man!! We start again from the begining. The pondering, the enquiring, the fortune thinking, the pandora box of thoughts open up.
And in the end after dealing with all those ideologies of 'ayala' being a source of itch, and 'mathi' being the tank of nutrients , and 'neimeen' being the juciest of them all, and 'natholi' being a very high maintance fish. Phew!! We finally end up picking those shiny black pomfrets home, the ones you had decided in the first place.
But the mysterious part is, that a trip to the fish stall is always an enlightening one.
The time consuming decision making, the homely flies, the rich aroma, the hallucination and finally the black bag you take home.All worth the wait once you have the super slurrpy glistening red meen curry on your table.
Inspired by my latest walk to the overcrowded fish stall.
Happy Mabre.
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