– Satyakam Ray
Preamble for the Reader: It’s a work of metaphor. The monologue is described by a momo, coincidentally the last momo on the plate. Sometimes, the character speaks to the chutney(spicy) about her anguishes, feelings, and whatnot. 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 my content. Besides, she’s placing some red color 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 smiled at me by holding me in her hand. 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 he’s still looking at me from a distance? Does he seek friendship and a bit of chit-chat from me to break this monotony of 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 panicked.. is the next number mine? The question is making me haywire, and I am losing my cool. A semblance of hope has been the sheepish chutney losing his form with every bite. Well, Yes, I gathered the reddish thing’s name. He’s chutney, and he’s a little shy. I wonder why didn’t he 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 spent till now. Four others are still left, wondering who’s the next to be eaten all the time. 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 of the chutney has been squandered off. He’s still holding his sheepish innocent smile, and his eyes tell the pangs of anguish and pain 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 any 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 in our table’s direction for some time. Little humor, a little peek-a-boo game before being devoured, is all I got. Some time to chat with my beloved chutney, who’ looking slightly grim now, expecting the inevitable, of course! 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 being fulfilled now, but at what cost?
Finally, the plate is clean, devoid of any single momo or a slight bit of chutney.
This soliloquy is entirely a work of metaphor. Try to unriddle the message!
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