Maggi Noodles and Polynomials

It’s a Friday evening, the time one's left brain start crying Beer! Beer! while the right brain scream... Bear! Bear!
Well, basically they both yell the same!

And then, here I am at home having come straight from office, sitting in front of the table, study table that is, for the last few hours!

After moving into this new house and having lost our cook in the process,
I have learned quite a few things about life in general and cooking in particular.

Lesson #1: Having a desire to cook alone won't feed you. It has to be adequately backed up by solid actions like putting rice into pressure cooker and placing it on top of a burning stove etc.
Lesson #2: Polynomials

To be fair, last couple of weeks I have been cooking quite few dishes by the names... Maggi Noodles.
Also, my room mate M, apart from being my colleague, is a self professed cook.
Though I didn’t look like one the last time I checked the mirror, he somehow sees me as a guinea pig. A guinea pig on which, he experiments his entire cooking prowess. And then, left alone to wash the heaps of plates, pots, spoons, glasses etc (not necessarily in that order).

I mustn’t be mean to him. He does do a decent job out of it, in the sense, there used to be lots to wash every time the cooking adventure is over.

M looked a little busy in the kitchen and I remembered he had taken up to himself to make Baigan Bartha for dinner. Which also meant that it was time for me to put my Guinea Pig cap on!
I walked over to the kitchen. Not exactly because I was excited to watch him cook, just to take a break from those Polynomial lessons, which I had to learn if I have any realistic chance of finishing my MBA exams with any success.

Over to the making of Baigan Bartha:
A skinless chicken looking thing was kept on a plate. I was promptly told that was the Baigan. The very Baigan which would soon turn into a culinary delight.

It all started with pouring half liter oil to the burning pot. (If not half a liter something of the same measure!)
Before I could regain my composure and ask him why so much oil, M forced the Baigan into the pot after being sliced and diced into pieces. Baigan was now drowned in the man made oil well. Not satisfied, Baigan was further subjected to more harassment in the form of a special paste he seems to have made, which smelled like a cockroach shake.
What followed was more intense stirring and shaking... raw power my friend has got!
In between he would reach for the oil bottle and would sprinkle, pour and then drip oil into, by I now I realized, the oil curry code named Baigan Bartha.
There was this peculiar smell emerging from the Pot and soon it was officially declared that Baigan Bartha is ready but not before he garnished it with another dash of oil!
Now, M has this pride personified look on his face, while I was horrified at the thought of being subjected to this oil attack.

We lift the Oil... err... Baigan Bartha, rice, pickle (thank god!) and carried them to the dining room as it was supposed to taste better when hot.

Barely I had moved few spoonful of rice to my plate, M poured the Baigan Bartha on it. Truth be told, he does care for me a lot.
Now, I can't really disappoint M. So I mixed the oil which was deep fried in Baigan with the rice.
The task at hand, I reminded myself, wouldn’t be easy. But then Guinea Pigs can't be choosers.
M gently pushed the first rice ball; he knows the art of creating a ball out of the cooked rice, into his mouth. He paused. Was about to ask me something. Before he could start I nodded it tastes just great... without realizing that I haven't tasted it yet.

Then came the cracker, from M!
"nahin... nahin... woh nahin... curry mein thoda oil zyaadaa hai kya?"
Ah... I was mouth wide open!
All I could manage was an alien expression before I busted into to this unstoppable laughter. All the while during the frenzied laughter M joined me with this confused bits and pieces laughter though he kept asking me in between what the fun was all about.

Well, now that the Baigan Bartha is officially certified as little oily, I turned to pickle to finish the meal. Hogged it real fast and back to the study table where polynomials were waiting for me.
At the study table, in some serious thinking which went along... "what really is the contribution of polynomials, to the lasting peace in this troubled world...?"

I saw M coming back to the room. With a bottle this time!
Party On?!!!
Looks like polynomials and world peace will have to wait!
I followed M and spotted he had readily kept the bottle on top of the fridge.
Some new brand? Well, it was indeed! And it read... Safola Sun Flower Oil!