Biryani — The Enemy Nations

Once upon a time, there was this big country called the Socialist Democratic Republic of Mutton Biryani or simply Mutton Biryani. It was a huge country with an enormous population. Mutton biryani was of course the preferred biryani of Mutton Biryanietes. They swore by mutton biryani. If it had to be biryani, it had to be mutton biryani.

On the borders of Mutton Biryani was a small country called the Federal Republic of Chicken Biryani or simply Chicken Biryani. The citizens of Chicken Biryani swore by chicken biryani and could kill and die for chicken biryani. Chicken biryani was their identity as mutton biryani was the identity of citizens of Mutton Biryani.

Both the countries had always been at loggerhead with each other, even though both of them were once part of the erstwhile Kingdom of Biryani.

The reign of the Kingdom of Biryani was ended by non biryani eating folks, leading to the formation of the Imperial Colony of Biryani. When these two countries were being carved out of the imperial colony of Biryani, few more small countries were also carved out, like the Fish Biryani, Egg Biryani and Vegetable Biryani.

Even a small Island of Seafood Biryani also exerted its claim and to its own surprise was granted sovereignty.

Small minorities of chicken biryani connoisseurs existed in Mutton Biryani and mutton biryani fanatics in Chicken Biryani. Needless to say, the minorities in both countries were treated like minorities anywhere, with disdain, suspicion and alienation.

The presidents of both the neighboring countries were very similar and yet different. Both had a strong individualistic personality and very rare charisma. Both had been practically bachelor most of their life. Similarities ended there.

As for differences, they were different from each other as chalk and cheese. One highly educated in a non-biryani eating country and the other did his apprenticeship at a local Dhaba which provided free tea with biryani as a special round the year offer.

Somehow the Presidents of both countries ended up in a cookery show.

The makers of the show were aware of the bone of contention between the two countries and so mischievously gave them the task of cooking biryani but with a twist. The Presidents have to cook other country's favorite biryani.

The excitement in both the countries was unprecedented and the twist in the task had further whipped up much frenzy in both the countries and ignited tremendous international interest in the event.

Special Group of Ministers and War Cabinets were formed in both countries.

Intelligence and counterintelligence agencies were given unimaginable freehand to mitigate any possibility of sabotage or loss of face.

Armies at the border were placed on the highest level of alert. Holidays of military men were canceled and they were instructed to report to duty at the earliest.

Betting had taken an altogether different dimension, holidays were announced for the general public and entertainment events were planned in a run-up to the ordained day.

TV rights for the live broadcasts of the show created a history of sorts.

However, away from all the limelight, both the presidents were huddled with the most astute political minds in their countries including many from the opposition parties.

The agenda of these secret meetings was a single point. How to avoid cooking the dish they have taught their countrymen to hate for generations, if possible, and if not possible, how to justify it to the masses in the next election. In short, it was all about how to get away with marrying your enemy’s fiancé.

The dilemma was that the Presidents cannot appear to be bad cooks and so to expect them to cook a bad dish was out of the question even if the dish was the most favourite dish of their arch enemy. The Presidents cannot be seen as an expert in cooking the favourite dish of the enemy nation either.

Various scenarios and political strategies were worked out. The night before the show, the biggest mutton supplier in Mutton Biryani and the biggest chicken supplier in Chicken Biryani met for a secret meeting. Various market share scenarios envisaged post cookery event were postulated, formulated, analyzed, debated, argued, fought over, trashed and rejuvenated to be trashed again. At the end of the long drawn booze cum brainstorming session, when only very few men were still standing while the rest around them passed out, the two men shook hands. They have agreed that the status quo should be maintained at any cost. The only other significant news to come out of that meeting if it interested anyone in that cacophony was the sealing of the matrimonial pact between the two families, consolidating their business empire globally.

The intelligence services of both the countries approached the makers of the cookery show with the security details for the event considering that two heads of state were to make an appearance. Surprisingly the demands of both countries were similar. No person within a radius of 5 m from the table where the two presidents will be cooking, no overhead camera, no shots of the dish while it is being cooked and surprisingly of all, the two presidents will bring their own raw materials considering that they will be tasting the preparations several times during the course of the cooking and will finally eat a portion of it too. Considering the seriousness of the issue, the makers had no choice but to agree. They had already generated enough interest in the show guaranteeing them a place in history, now all they wanted was successful culmination without risking anything least of all the safety of the two Presidents.

Finally, the D day arrived, both the nations were at the zenith of euphoria.

The show started with the two Presidents giving lengthy speeches eulogizing their respective kind of biryani, with adequate historical references and nationalistic overtures.

The two Presidents eventually got down to donning the apron. Millions were glued to their screens in both countries. History was in the making. Whose preparation will turn out better? Who will reign supreme? The eternal question of mutton biryani versus chicken biryani will now be settled once for all. Nationalism was at stake. Patriotism had no bounds. Zealots were on the streets proclaiming victory prematurely.

Just as the bell rang, the two Presidents applied the last bit of garnishing and stepped back. The two biryanis looked strikingly similar. Just when the two Presidents were virtually patting themselves for a job well done and were preparing for another speech, a victory speech, the organizers of the show came up with another twist. The organizers of the cookery show asked both the Presidents to taste each other’s preparations and give their feedback on the same.

The President of Mutton Biryani gingerly stepped forward bracing himself for the moment he had been dreading, picked up a spoon, dug into the dish, placed the food in his mouth in slow deliberate showmanship manner, chewed a bit, frowned, shook his head in disappointment and made a painful gesture of swallowing the food. He immediately picked up a glass of water, rinsed his mouth and drank about a half glass of water. A mic was thrust in his face and he went into a rant as to what was wrong in the biryani and what could have been done better.

Exactly the same script was followed to the T by the President of Chicken Biryani including a similar rant in the end.

It was the turn of the cookery show host to give the verdict and true to their reputation they had one last surprise up their sleeve. They passed the honour of deciding the best biryani between the two preparations to a bunch of kids picked up from various orphanages in both the countries.

About a dozen and half kids were ushered into the room, given plates and asked to help themselves. Within minutes the entire quantity of both the preparations was lapped up by the kids. The hosts, the two Presidents, the audience and billions of viewers watched as the children went about single mindedly relishing the best biryani they ever had in their lives.

The two Presidents watched with a smirk. Most of the audience and viewers watched with impatience, eager to know the result of the contest. However, quite a few watched the proceedings with tears in their eyes, realizing what the show makers have been up to. The result of the contest was a foregone conclusion for them.

In his characteristic style, the host approached the bunch of emancipated kids, with the mic in hand. The evening had reached its climax and not to disappoint anyone, the host in a dramatic style and deep baritone asked the question which everyone had been waiting for “Kids, which was the better biryani?”

All the kids looked confused, bewildered and perplexed.

At last, a kid who was visibly uncomfortable and looking awkward in the decent clothes he was made to wear for the occasion, got up and approached the mic, with eyes wide open as if the mind was still trying to comprehend the question. With surprise perceptible in his voice, he spoke softly into the mic, looking straight into the eyes of the host “You mean there were two kinds of biryani.”

Now appearing very much embarrassed, the kid bowed his head and spoke in an apologetic tone “I am sorry I could not make out the difference. You see we only eat biryani once a year, on Independence Day. To me, both tasted the same, the best food I ever had.”