THE REFRIGERATOR NEEDS TO BE EMPTIED

Every couple of weeks, one of us takes up the task of clearing the refrigerator. Neither of us enjoy doing it. Today is that day. It usually comes the day after one of us mutters in frustration during the post dinner clean up “Where are all the bloody boxes to store food? Do we have absolutely none left?” 

“It’s all in the refrigerator. Storing food.”, the other will snap back, like clockwork. 

That’s our cue, and we know, one of us will have to lift the load the next day. 

Today it was me. 

As I open the refrigerator door, I see them all staring back at me, overflowing in their racks. I begin to take them out one by one. 

A tiny container with remains of the Avial I made. I remember the day I made it, a large pot of warm coconut goodness, mixed with the colourful and eclectic combination of veggies only it can own. A dish that reminds me of home. Prepared with a lot of love. I had savoured it for 3 consecutive days during the previous week when I felt utterly homesick. 2 ladles of Avail remained after the homesickness faded away, and I had swiftly stuck it in the box and shoved it in, promising myself I would finish it, but now it’s too late. I have to throw it out. There is no other option. Out it goes. 

The leftover chicken pulao from the day Mohit was sick of eating vegetarian food and decided to order in. After one serving, he was unable to digest any more of it, and in it went, until now. I have to throw it out. There is no other option. Out it goes. 

The greasy oil laden egg burji from when a friend had dropped in to stay and ordered something familiar after two days into our healthy diet at home. Turns out, it wasn’t as familiar as he hoped it would be, and he stuck it in the refrigerator. I have to throw it out. There is no other option. Out it goes. 

The veggies my maid chopped, boxed and shoved right at the back end of the refrigerator and forgot to tell me about. A slight miscommunication between us, happens often, and the consequence -  it’s too late. the veggies are rotten now. I have to throw it out. There is no other option. Out it goes. 

A tub of hummus, and some bottled pesto, both emptied, but not put out for a wash yet, 3 packets of almost empty dahi, save a teaspoon or two. I never understood why they get saved. Tiny boxes of forgotten condiments that get delivered when we decide to order in. Just like the forgotten lone roti that gets stashed but never reheated. Some pieces of wilted fruit, an egg yolk, and other little bits the optimistic hoarder in us couldn’t throw away in case we get a chance to use it later instead of wasting it. But it’s too late now. It gets wasted anyway. I have to throw it all out eventually. There is no other option. Out it goes. 

The heaviness begins to weigh me down with each box I empty from my refrigerator. Yes, I hate wasting food. “For every grain of rice you waste, you will spend 9 days hungry” was burned into my brain by my mom. Back then, my response would be swift, “Who decides the ratio? Also, is it not a bit too unfair? A single grain amounts to 9 whole days? Also, who will go hungry? - the kid or the parent who has served the kid? So does this mean the kids in Africa today who are hungry and suffering wasted food in the past? Do they deserve it?” Cheeky responses like this no longer bring me peace. 

Wasting food as an adult is no longer about wasting food anymore, I’ve realised. It’s much bigger than that. Cleaning out an overflowing refrigerator is a larger reflection of the state of my mind these days- packing in too many loose ends in little boxes, compartmentalised, stored for a later moment to get around to. Tasks, Expectations, Conversations, Goals, Desires, Promises - all once put together with love and intention but now unfinished, waiting for the loop to be closed one day, have gone rotten and have no other fate but to be thrown away. And the heavy heart that feels crushed each time something has to be thrown out. The existential crisis begins to surface. What has happened to my life? Years of discipline, dedication, training, practice, effort, all to keep my mind and body healthy and balanced and have that reflect in my actions. Then life throws you a curve ball - in an instant it can be taken away and before you know it, you’re left with an overflowing refrigerator every two weeks. 

Life is funny that way. The problems are in the head and the consequences appear in reality. Before you know it, your present beckons you, demanding your attention and theres nothing you can do to run away from it.

So I throw it all out, all that old food; and put the empty boxes for a wash. I look at the refrigerator, now neatly rearranged, and my mind, like the refrigerator suddenly feels empty. The heaviness begins to lift. 

I remember to be thankful that at least theres a silver lining - it can all go into the ground as fertiliser. Unlike all the junk that fills my head every once in a while. 

I pause. Unless…

Unless, I can find a way to churn them out into a metaphorical fertiliser somehow. The heaviness instantly transformed into a cheekiness. 

I make a mental note and put in in a corner of my brain - where it says “Things to figure out one day”