Maggi Waale Ungaal. Listen No.
All of us, absolutely every last one of us, has eaten Maggi. We swear by it.
In hostel rooms, as kids (remember when the damn thing used to cost give bucks?), for slap-up dinners, for lazy Sunday lunches and even raw. I don’t know about you, but raw Maggi the night before exams was almost a staple diet.
We’ve lived through Maggi’s attempts at making Maggi healthier, we’ve endured disastrous attempts at localizing the taste, whatever the hell that meant, and we’ve suffered atta Maggi, so help us God.
But there is nothing like a fresh, hot steaming bowl of Maggi to savour, especially on rainy evenings.
Maggi ain’t Maggi, as far as I’m concerned, until it has a dash of Maggi’s Hot and Sweet sauce. Just before taking it off the stove, I add a liberal unit of ketchup and give it a good stir. It adds that extra zing, that extra slurrpiness that is so essential to the perfect bowl of Maggi.
Which is I feel let-down when I see the bottle is empty. It’s a very dispiriting moment, when you skip from the stove to the fridge, think happy, anticipatory thoughts, and realise that there isn’t a single drop of ketchup left. Even if you were to upturn the bottle and give it a series of almighty thwacks – even then nothing would trickle out.
And so you eat your Maggi in default mode, because running down to the kiranawala is too much of a chore. The taste of which, of course, isn’t quite the same.
So here’s what Maggi should do. It should bundle in a sachet of Maggi Hot and Sweet ketchup with every pack of Maggi. And it should pay me some royalty for having come up with this radical notion.
Now, if you’ll excuse me. Writing this post has resulted in cravings for you-know-what.
But I’ll check my fridge first this time around.