Grand council of the Breads: GST, BJP, upcoming elections and how the khakhra crumbles

All the staple breads of India gathered around the kitchen table to discuss a matter of great importance. One of their kith and kin had been singled out for a handsome break in GST, and there was great ferment in the ranks at this special consideration.

“The meeting will come to order!” bellowed Naan, who had assumed command of Breaddom with help from his cousin Kulcha. Enriched by the oil boom, they had ousted the previous leader, plainspoken Roti, after the Green Revolution. “We should protest Khakhra being given special treatment. At this rate, he might become the sole staple of India.”

“Hear! Hear!” chimed in Paratha, who was from Punjab. “Dense or light, flattened or round, you duplicate the mother’s rounded womb, and earth’s twice-yearly swelling.”

No one understood what Paratha meant. He never spoke in simple, direct language like other breads. He always went round and round, and his utterances had many layers of meaning one had to extract after buttering him up.

“Does anyone know why Khakhra’s GST was lowered from 12 per cent to 5 per cent and why we were left out?” asked Naan.

Bhatura, who seldom traveled without her spouse Channa, spoke up. “Apparently, there is an election coming up in Gujarat and Amitbhai wanted Khakhra’s help,” she said. Overweight and in her final days — her poor health showing in her greasy complexion – Bhatura always blurted out the truth, unlike her sly niece Poori.

“Nonsense!’ snorted Bhakri, who wasn’t sure if she was from Gujarat or Maharashtra. “By that token I should have gotten a GST break too.”

“Well, we didn’t make the cut because we are not long-lasting and cannot be vacuum packed. Besides, they said Khakhra is healthy because he is baked,” sniffed Thepla and Dhebra, Khakhra’s oily cousins who were frequently mistaken for Tibetans or Nepalese because of their names.

“Well then, what about me? I can be vacuum packed and there is an election coming up in my state too,” piped up Papad, who claimed he was from neighboring Rajasthan although his ancestors were said to be Sindhi. The clan had emigrated across the world, including to Southern India, where their cousins were called Appalams, and even to England, where they spoke in a British accent and were called Poppadoms.

“Well, strictly speaking, you are not a bread,” declared Naan.
“You’re fried!” yelled a steamed up Dhokla, Khakhra’s distant cousin.
“You’re fired!” shouted Dhokla’s sister Khandvi, rolling up her sleeve.

“Yeah. If you are a bread so am I,” jeered Ffaffda, who had snuck into the meeting to spy on proceedings and report to Amitbhai, hoping he would be given a GST break too. Although he was a Gujarati, Ffaffda had added couple extra Fs to his name and pretended he was German to gain entry.

“We are simple breads, so no one cares for us,” whined Chapatti, who was with her son Phulka. “Everyone is buttering up to Naan because he is rich and fair-complexioned.”

“Yeah. Tell me about it!” snapped Roti, still bitter after his ouster from the throne of Breaddom. Roti believed Naan was an interloper who belonged to the Khubbuz Dynasty in the Middle-East, and had no business thriving in Bharatvarsh. There were also rumors that he had some Pita blood in him.

For that matter, Roti also suspected Khakhra himself came from a Baloch ancestor named Kaak and his wife Sajji, but this was not a time to make such awkward disclosures.

While all this was happening, the delegation from Southern India, led by Masala Dosa, had maintained a dignified silence. But Appam, who had been stewing quietly, could not contain herself anymore.

“This is zimbly unacceptabull,” she said in thick Malayali accent. “Why Gujju named kakra getting szbeshal dreatmend?”

“Yes, why wonly cocra and not us?” chimed Pesarattu, from Andhra, and his fat cousin Uthappam, from Tamil Nadu.

“Why? Why? Why?” asked soft, light, and fluffly Idli, bouncing around excitedly. Idli, who wasn’t sure which Southern state he was from, had a mind like a devil’s workshop. He believed he was a Brahmin, and therefore deserved special treatment. “I am fair too…fairer than Khakhra or Naan!” he trilled.

“Well, as they explained… we are not long-lasting and can’t be vacuum packed. We are also from the Rice Gotra, not the favored Wheat Gotra,” sighed Masala Dosa. “Besides, there is no election in our states.”

“Of course there is… we too have an election coming up in 2018,” snapped Kori Roti, who was from Coastal Karnataka, and was hoping that he’d get the same treatment as Khakhra since he was also healthy, long-lasting, and could be vacuum-packed. Several members of the Karnataka delegation, including Neer Dosa, Jowar Roti, and Thalipeetu were also camping in Delhi to lobby over GST issues.

“Sweet!” whispered Puran Poli and Holige, cousins from Maharashtra and Karnataka respectively, who felt they too deserved a GST break. Although they were not really healthy and were more perishable than Khakhra, they hoped Amitbhai would consider their sweet nature, particularly since Karnataka could go to the polls in 2018 and Maharashtra in 2019.

From inside the oven across the kitchen table, Pizza surveyed the scene as he lip-read the conversation, (feeling like HAL in 2001 Space Odyssey). Bulked up with cheese, chicken and other toppings, he considered himself the Father of All Breads now. As far as he was concerned, desi breads and their sides were passe. “Damn fools!” he thought to himself as he flexed his muscles and did a few more push-ups. “They can scrap over GST while I conquer India…its witless elites are sold on me.”