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My wife is not gullible; not gullible at all. But propaganda always affects her decision-making. Ever since I can remember, she has made me and others around her go along with her choices.

We changed soaps from Cinthol to Medimix to Santoor - solely because one jingle sounded nicer to her than the other. I had to switch from Rupa to VIP to Jockey or nothing, depending on which film actor was endorsing which underwear. Unfortunately, the same applies to our gastronomic choices.



It is the hype that makes the lady of the house decide which foods we shall eat. Consequently, at different times, we have consumed vast quantities of quinoa or chia or sunflower seeds or cinnamon sticks. My muted complaints against fennel pancakes went unheeded, as did my protests against tofu-a-la-king.

But they were all transitory fads that soon blew over, like some tropical storm or a midsummer’s nightmare. I had got used to these passing whims and mastered the art of battening down for the brief periods that the craze lasted. Soon enough, the little woman would tire of the novelty and we would be back to wheat and rice and other familiar fare.

Sometimes, even when she did not want to, the trend would change because some high priestess of food fashion would decree that chicken fat or carrot leaves were passe and the ‘in’ thing now was pork from Pindari or the sepals of Salvia from Supaul. I suffered through every passing fancy, but none lasted long enough to permanently scar either my psyche o.

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