Stir 'n' Fry

I have a theory.
Actually I have many theories. Most of them are not deemed fit to be voiced in public for the fear of castigation, but nevertheless.. After relentless hounding by some people (they know who they are) I am here to, ah, propagate some of my musings.

My first theory belongs to the British Raj.
Narrowing it down, my theory is concerned with the exodus of the white pansies from our brown hinterlands. Historians have attributed many reasons for the hasty retreat. You, yourself, are currently having these flashes in a monotone sepia where starched cottons are yelling "Simon Go Back!" and "Quit India" and Dandi March. I - but obviously - beg to differ. Not that I do not agree with your sepia flashes. But I think, a major adversary has been ignominiously ignored here.
What is it Suchi, what in the name of Gandhi's khadi dhoti is it, you are wondering?
INDIGESTION.
Yep, you read that right. Think back to every British account ever read and heard. Recall any British friend/acquaintance/TV show character. What is the common thread that invariably runs through all of them? Complaints about Indian food.
"It is too spicy!", "It is too hot!", "Whoops-a-daises, that stung!", "Dear Lord, my man, what was that?!".
Somewhere, in the unconscious recesses of our mind, we all are very aware of how irksome our rich, arty food is to most Caucasians. In fact, I'm not sure whether it has ever crossed your mind, about why the British were so comfortable in Bengal. I think, it is because of their propensity for bland, sweeter, more harmless variety of food.
By now I am quite sure you are ruminating about exactly how much thought I have given to this theory. Be assured, quite a lot. And you must agree, it makes so much sense.
We drove the British out, any means possible. Hook or Crook or Cook.
And we should be glad.
Where soldiers, politicians and revolutionaries failed, Maharaj-ji triumphed. In the sweltering heat of the fumigating kitchen, he concocted patriotic recipes that would one day spell liberation. He might have balked at the chilli and pepper at times, but his resolve held strong. He did not waver. And in the end, when it mattered, he delivered.
Thousands of British dignitaries, soldiers, commoners clutched their writhing bowels as one and stumbled out of the Golden Bird's decimated stomach.
2 MINUTES OF REVERENT SILENCE.

I also have another theory.
It mainly deals with psychosexual development.
No wait.
That is Sigmund Freud's theory.
I tend to get muddled sometimes.
All the 'thinking'.



PS: Happy now? Leave me alone for a couple of months now!