The Sugar Fixation

As told by - The Sugar Jar

Most boys in the age group of, 2 to 90 years of age love sugar. But the only a much younger lot understands the literal meaning to the exclusion of all other un-necessary connotations comprehended by the love- sick or just sick adults. Our little friend’s love for sugar was legendry especially so, after a painful separation from the BMS. Sugar had been his solace, his friend in need that kept him away from depths of inactivity. And he loved it equally in all its forms, as crystal, powder, cube or liquid, and sans adulteration. ‘Purest is best’ was his firm belief. In fact, all the yucky vegetables received a generous dressing of sugar before being consumed by him. Even the rice, curds and the bread, his favorites were made doubly favorite by adding sugar. Repeated scolding, threats of punishments followed by actual punishments and the scary tales of worms that grew in the stomachs of boys partial to sugar, were ignored impartially. Finding the sugar hidden by his mother was as pleasurable as a treasure hunt. In his opinion, it sharpened his survival instincts. Not even the illnesses attributed to sugar overdose, dimmed this passion.

This happy state of existence ceased, vanishing forever, the day no sugar cubes could be found for tea-party guests. “Don’t be mean. Elaborate. Tell us the details.” Pleaded the sleek time- piece in a, minimalist attire.

The sugar jar smiled enjoying the attention, before continuing. “Being the members of the Rotary club, our friend’s parents had invited some Russian tourists, to their home for high tea under the exchange program undertaken by their branch. And, these Russian guests liked their tea strong and sugary. This was the time of rationing, including sugar, post Indo-China war. So, the hostess factored in the extra requirement and somehow procured two packets of sugar cubes, at a high cost from the market, well in advance. She thought, this would also add a classy touch to her tea party. She locked these packets in the only cabinet with a lock in her kitchen, unaware of the said cabinet being a focus of immense curiosity due to its locked status, amongst the younger lot, especially Purja and Gira.

“I wonder why is it locked? What do they hide? I think there must be some really nice things like chocolates that they don’t want us to touch or it could be a box of sweets.” Gira was immensely partial to sticky sweets.

“No, not at all. I am sure there are jelly and cream biscuits in colorful wrappers. Remember, the cook bought some from the market the other day.” Purja would say. They both loved to lick the jelly and cream off the biscuits discarding the biscuit, which they considered insipid. And the wrappers were normally torn in equal halves for inclusion into their elite wrapper collection. The locked cupboard, though never revealed its secrets. They tried sniffing, hoping to find some aromatic clue to the contents inside but failed. The cupboard had become a challenge.

Having seen his mother put some packets inside the said cupboard, Purja waited for right opportunity. He then, sneaked up to his mother during the lazy summer afternoon siesta, sneaking the keys from under her pillow, before heading to the kitchen. He tried waking up Gira, but she kicked him painfully, not wanting to be disturbed from her sleep. He then, nudged her a couple of times with a bamboo pole but failed to make an impact. Sesa, he knew was not a locked cupboard fan and Goltu slept like a log and would only cry if woken. Only our nodder, Pints was ready without being aware of what he was ready for. But Purja decided not to involve him because he had a tendency to show his appreciation loudly and Purja was not looking for an advertisement. He was loosing time hence he decided to go solo. His intentions were good. He wanted to satisfy his curiosity, and then return the keys under his mother’s pillow, status in quo. But things had a bad habit of going a bit haywire where he was concerned. Before his conscience could react, he polished off the contents of one box. Then, the poor conscience a mute spectator, numbed so far for being rudely sidetracked, reacted by signaling danger. The adrenalin rush kick started his brain into action and after a quick reality check it was clear that he was in a soup. Things were out of control with no way of amendment since the cubes were already being processed by his digestive tract. After some quick thinking he thought it wise to place the empty box, cleverly sealed, just behind the other one, before locking the cupboard and placing the keys back under the pillow. He did not utter a single word to anyone, not even to Gira about the empty box hoping it would somehow fill again or not be discovered at all.” There was a pin drop silence as everyone contemplated the outcome.

“What, about the party?” Asked the DVD, haltingly breaking the silence. A restless teapot grabbed this chance. After all it had been the first witness to the whole drama. “The party was fine till the tea was served. The Russian guests ‘extra sweet tea’ preference resulted in the hostess demanding the back-up reserves of the second pack’s contents, be brought. Also our little friend had been sneaking cubes from time to time till his mother’s, no nonsense look, stopped him. She handed the keys to the cook. She had never doubted their existence in her locked cabinet, having checked the presence of second box, just before the party. Well! She was in for a nasty surprise. A flustered cook informed her of this, most foul robbery. Hurriedly the cook was dispatched to the neighbor’s house to borrow some sugar cubes. But not many people kept the cubes, as they were expensive. The sugar pot was filled up with ordinary crystal sugar. She had never been so embarrassed. Luckily, the guests left satisfied, thanking her profusely for a wonderful evening. And the household went without sugar for a whole week, till the next ration allotment.” The sneaky teapot with a potbelly, had said all it wanted to say.

Looking accusingly at the pot for stealing its thunder, the cheated sugar jar continued, “Our friend, hid behind the curtain expecting exploding moms. He was not disappointed in this expectation. His mom exploded eclipsing The Big Bang. Some major meteors fell on his bottoms. He couldn’t understand her anger though. Whether sweetened by a cube or the crystal sugar, the tea tasted equally sweet. The mothers were unreasonable most of the times, he felt. That evening, while he sat in the corner on his hurting bums, he vowed to start life, anew, with a ‘hands off sugar’ policy.”

“Did he stop pinching the sugar from then on? Did he give up this indulgence?” Asked the microwave. “High hopes. But he followed hands off locked cupboard policy from then on. Also, the sugar-free week that followed was especially painful for him and he kept off kitchen area for some time. Even Gira couldn’t budge him from this decision. He never did tell her about the meteors. And, the security measures around ‘anything like sugar’ was stricter.” Sighed the jar looking towards the dinning table with a mysterious smile.
The dining table took the center stage.