The Witty Stride

– Satyakam Ray

Preamble for the Reader: It’s a work of metaphor. A momo describes the monologue, coincidentally, the last momo on the plate. Sometimes, the character speaks to the chutney (a spicy condiment) about her anguish and other feelings. So, it’s up to the reader’s imagination to figure out the real meaning of this literary work. 

Scenario 1-10 Momos on a Plate:-

Yet, I am here on a plate again… so dusty and gross! Am I alone? Wait, nine others like me are being served to be presented to an unassuming guy seated at that corner table. But I want to seek the warmth of the container from which I was born. Cook Aunty made me so soft and delicate with so much love. I want to lie there again till I’m content. Besides, she’s placing some red-colored things on the plate. Am I supposed to be in the vicinity of such grim-looking gubbins? I am perfect; I am the diva. My molds are still the best in the batch… I remember Cook Aunty smiling at me and holding me in her arms. Why am I being served to another unknown person, and who’s that reddish thing smiling sheepishly at me from that corner of the plate? What does he want? I’m not talking to him. But wait, why is he still looking at me from a distance? Does he seek friendship and a bit of chit-chat from me to break this silence? What’s his name?

Scenario 2- 5 Momos on the Plate:-

Five like me have been gobbled up from the plate till now by that monstrous guy. I am panicking. Is the following number mine? The question is causing me to lose my composure and become agitated. A semblance of hope has been the sheepish chutney losing its form with every bite. Well, yes, I gathered the name of the reddish thing. He’s chutney, and he’s a little shy. I wonder why he didn’t protest every time someone ruffled him badly. Is it destiny? Is he fragile? Am I fragile? He still grins at me sometimes as he shares his version of the good times he has had till now. Four others remain, wondering who will be the next to be eaten. But I am still the best among the lot as I have better molds. Dilly-dallying with the chutney makes me forget what’s coming. I yearn for the warmth again and again! And I wish the same for the chutney. Is he feeling alone? Does he need a companion? Maybe I can be that person.

Scenario 3- I am the last momo on the plate:-

Now, I am the last thing on the plate and the chutney. Is the demonic guy saving me for the final, as I have better molds? Half the chutney has been squandered. He’s still holding his sheepish, innocent smile, and his eyes betray the pangs of anguish he’s feeling now. I am waiting to be devoured by now, a final empathic greeting before getting salvation. Is it my salvation? Or is it my slaughter? Why has it been going on without Momo’s consent? Were we made to satiate the insatiable greed of these ruffian guys? Let’s play with this guy a little bit. The plastic cover protected me as the fan blew toward us for a while. Little humor, a little peek-a-boo game before being devoured, is all I’ve got. I need time to chat with my beloved chutney, who is looking slightly grim now and expecting the inevitable! Did the guy see me? Oh, no, I am being sighted and lifted by his rough hands. Didn’t I mention that I’m delicate? Oh, look, the whole chutney is being engulfed alongside me. No one should be left behind! My wish to befriend the chutney is finally fulfilled, but at what cost?

Finally, the plate is clean, devoid of any morsel or even a trace of chutney.

This soliloquy is entirely a work of metaphor. Try to unriddle the message!

Explanation

The Momo I am referring to is a symbolic representation of human beings. It can be you, me, or anyone else. As we grow up, we tend to become self-centered. We compare ourselves to others and become happy or sad, often by pointing out others’ flaws. We take ourselves seriously and boast of our success, fame, wealth, and more. The line “I have better molds” has been significantly rewritten to emphasize this point.

At first, Momo dismisses the chutney. The chutney is called the soul. We don’t listen to the heed of our souls very often. That’s why the soul is smiling sheepishly from a distance. It beckons us to unite with it in our quest for the ultimate truth and spiritual fulfillment. As we grow older, our interaction with the soul increases as we realize we are mortals.

The guy eating the momos is nothing but destiny. Our destiny is always the same. Ultimately, whatever you do in your life, you will die one day, sooner or later. The shells(human bodies), the exterior of our forms, will give in to the unbreakable shackles of mortality. The plates are being cleaned up individually, which means our peer group(one generation) is dying. The insecurity, anxiety, and bonding with the soul intensify as we are consumed by destiny. Finally, we are breaking; our shell unites with the soul and, in a way, becomes one.