Of onions and pakodas

Okay, onions and pakodas made me nostalgic. This one is a rated post. Adult supervision strictly adviced ;).

I had a colleague and my best buddy in my office in Portland, Me. I will call him NY. He is from a country in West Africa. There are several anecdotes that come to my mind but I will share two.

NY is very fond of popcorns and used to get a popcorn packet every now and then from the vending machine in the office. And I hated the smell of the butter inside the microwave. I used to feel nauseated and I told him to either have it in the canteen or stop eating it. The mean guy that he is, he said no. Infact his consumption of it went up a little. And I could do nothing much about it. Worse he used to sit in the adjoining cubicle. I used to borrow my manager's skin lotion that she always carried, rub it on my palms and put my palms close to my nose to avoid the horrible smell.

One day, I carried a vegetable burger from home as breakfast and had put a little more onion into it than is normal. So when I opened the box, this time his nose went up. After a few minutes, while I was eating it, he came to me and asked me if I could avoid the onions. Now I dont like onions. Not at all. But that time, there was nothing I loved more. And then it became a daily routine and the consumption of onions went up a lot. After a few days NY told me, "Ok man, I stop eating popcorn in da office, you stop bringin dat shit to da office."

Well, was there anything else I wanted that day ;)


Now the second incident. Let me introduce the characters.

NY - My colleague and project mate, who used to sit in the adjoining cubicle.
K - Around 45-50 year old manager of another project, used to sit opposite NY. She is very much interested in Indian culture, food, anything Indian.
NB - An Indian colleague, reporting to K, who was on a short visit to US. NY and NB were smoking partners. He used to sit in another wing.

Now NY had done his graduation from NY (New York) and his roommates were all Indians, infact all Punjabis. So he knew all the dirty, rotten words in Hindi.

NB had visted the Portland office a couple of times earlier and since he was a Punjabi and a smoker, he got on well with NY. All those words that NY did not know earlier, NB used to teach him. Well together, they were the perverts that only they can be.

So one afternoon, after returning from a smoke session, NY on his way back to his cubicle was singing, "%$##& ka pakoda", "%$##& ka pakoda". KA = IS ( "%$##& ka pakoda = "%$##& 's pakoda)

This was fine really, since no one knew Hindi there, except well.... K was very much interested in Indian culture and food. As I said earlier, anything Indian. She knew what a pakoda was. And so she stopped NY and asked him, "What is that pakoda, I have never heard of it!!".

Now NY, was dumbfounded. He realised he is in trouble. He tried to persuade K. "Nothing really." And I loved it. I started laughing. NY looked at me, and it was both, a request and a warning. K insisted, "What is "%$##& ka pakoda"? " I laughed more. NY looked more uneasy.

"K never mind. Its nothing really."

I laughed more. K, and she is such a innocent old woman, insisted more. Now this really went on for about a minute or two.

And I was in splits. Finally, NY said, "K you do not want to know."

"No really, tell me", said K without taking the hint.

"Okay ask NB. He told me about it."

And talk of timing. NB just appeared there with a document in his hand to ask a few questions to K.

NB : K, I have a some doubts. (Indians ask doubts, not questions.)
K: Later NB, first tell me what is a "%$##& ka pakoda". I have never EATEN it.

Damn I was absolutely uncontrollable then.

NB (with a straight face, and a side glance to NY) : What's that, I have never heard of it?
K: But NY told me that you told him about it.
NB (swearing in Hindi at NY): No I really have no idea.

Oh boy it went on and on. And finally, they managed to convince K that it's not something she really would like to know.

And I got plenty of the best medicine.

Well NB swore that he would never teach anything ever again to NY.
And NY? Well he was always more concious after a smoke on his way back to his cubicle.