Who moved your curds? Not me!

When I tell people I have never tasted curds (and yoghurt for those who want a fancy name) in my entire life, they look at me like I am saying I have committed two murders and I am on the run.

It gets worse when I say that I have also never tasted buttermilk or even home-made butter.

There have been gasps of disbelief and shock and sometimes even condescending stares from my brethren. Some have told me in no lesser words that I am a lunatic and some have given me sermons over what I am missing in life. Some have stared at me like I am a lesser mortal.

In a nutshell, I have managed to elicit a gamut of emotions by stating a simple fact about myself.

Over the years, I have learnt to live with these collective reactions for two reasons
1) I can’t make them understand why I haven’t tasted the aforesaid products
2) Even if I try to, I know they will never understand

The husband says I should stop being proud of the fact that I am a non eater and get my act together. Well, to him and scores of my other well wishers, I can’t do much about it.

Being a non eater runs in my genes. There are several members in my extended family who are like me. I have an aunt who drinks only black coffee because she can’t take even that much amount of milk. As for me, I manage to endure milk.

There have been several efforts to convert me. A favourite subterfuge is to put pressure with the help of examples of converts. “X never used to have dahi before. But she has started having it now. She eats it after food regularly and feels great about it.”

“Y started having curd and rice because when he was staying away from home he did not have anything else to eat and had to survive on that. Now he loves it”
These are subtle suggestions that I should go their way. I say, “Good for X and Y, but I can’t do it, much as I want to.”

I don’t know why I am a non eater. It’s certainly not by choice. I am like this genetically, mentally and yes physically too, much absurd as it may sound. The smell (or aroma for most) of curd or butter never fails to make me nauseous. In fact, it’s so bad that I can’t touch or move a pot of any of the above mentioned products.

These days I have stopped convincing people I am as normal as anyone even if I don’t go berserk when I see curds/buttermilk/butter.

To me the chapter of being a non-eater has long ended, in fact it never was in the first place.

A friend once told me, “You don’t know what you are missing in life.”
To her and to everyone else I say, “That’s right. I don’t know and I guess I never would.” It’s like someone who has been a vegetarian all their life.

It doesn’t make a difference.