EGGlomaniac = Egg mein aur Egg tu, dono mile iss tarah…

EGGlomaniac = Egg mein aur Egg tu, dono mile iss tarah…

My love for eggs began when I was a child. So young I couldn’t even boil an egg to save my life. Today, I can’t thank my parents enough for initiating me into eggs.

By Dhirendra Negi

 “Egg mein aur Egg tu, Dono mile iss tarah….Aur jo tann-mann mein ho raha hai, ye toh hona hi tha!

My dear fowls (folks), I have a confession to make tonight. Yes, right. Confession. And the confession is that EGGS drive me crazy and how! After having eggs, I tend to lose control on my nerves, behave erratically and sometimes just ramble on. I can’t even get a song right whenever I am five-six eggs down.

You must have seen for yourself how I struggled through the lyrics of a popular Hindi song in the first line of this paragraph. Tonight, my fowls, I am high on 14 eggs and feeling a little inEGGriated. While my senses are a little eggy now, I want to seize the moment by declaring my love for what I reckon is a blessing for mankind – Egg.


I am not worried or in the least bit embarrassed that people will judge me after this rambling tonight. I know I may wake up tomorrow with egg on my face. Some prudes (vegetarians) may scoff at me but what the heck! It’s a small price that I will pay to connect with hundreds of fellow egg-lovers on social media. They would definitely understand and relate to my emotions.

Frankly speaking, I don’t give a chicken’s arse what the other half will think. And anyway, someone has rightly said that you can’t make an omelette without breaking an egg. So, let it be.

My love for eggs began when I was a child. So young I couldn’t even boil an egg to save my life. Today, I can’t thank my parents enough for initiating me into eggs. But the love was never this intense. It evolved with time and age. In fact, my fascination and love for eggs started with hate first. When I was a kid, my dad would mix egg-yolk into my milk and then ask me to gulp it down without creating a scene. His rationale was that it was healthy for growing kids. Though I would buy his theory, I used to find the pungent smell of raw egg-yolk repulsive.

For my parents, I proved to be a tough egg to crack. They would have hard time dealing with my tantrums. Then my mom came up with a solution. She asked me to drink my glass of milk (with egg yolk) with my nose pressed closed. Sensing I didn’t have much of a choice, I would meekly follow the instructions. Though it took some time, I developed a taste for raw eggs in my milk.

The next wave came when, a few months later, we started getting one boiled egg daily with our breakfast. I took an instant liking to them when they would be served piping hot with chatpata masala sprinkled over generously. I was amazed to learn that raw eggs, if boiled, can result into such a tasteful delicacy. Also, it was the time when, like every other kid, I used to think for long hours about the chicken and egg situation. And like every other kid, I never reached any conclusion as to which of the two existed first and which caused the other.

In due course of time, I was introduced to omelette in different forms – Fried omelette, Half-fried (sunny-side up), Spinach Omelette, Iranian Omelette, French Omelette, Greek Omelette and, of course the very own, Indian Omelette. Also, I think the list will be incomplete if I do not add the mouth-watering Bhurji (Scrambled eggs) to it.

I remember quite vividly how during my primary schooling, I had fooled one of my best friends, Ashish Pandey – a vegetarian, into believing that eggs which I would get from home were not begotten from fowls but from machines in factories. I had to do this because otherwise he would not partake of my egg bhurjis and omelettes. He developed a liking for the eggs soon and I would happily share my lunch-box with him for years to come. He did feel bad for some time when I confronted him with the truth one day but that was that. Today, after all these years, our bonding has become even stronger. We recall that episode with great delight and just laugh it away.

Today, I may have graduated to Chicken and Mutton but the love for eggs is simply unparalleled. For a long time now, my favourite advertisements have been the ones by NECC that have beautiful lyrics “Sunday ho ya Monday, Roz Khao Andey” and I hate, even to this day, that story where the stupid and greedy guy killed the goose that laid the golden egg.

Sometimes I romance with the idea of investing all my savings one day into owning a huge poultry farm spread over many acres on the suburbs. I will then have an uninterrupted supply of eggs. Of course, managing thousands of fowls would be a tough task and having all of them creaking non-stop would be a nuisance but that is ok. After all, he that would have eggs must endure the cackling of hens.


On other days, I daydream of living it up in my ideal world where there is abundance of eggs, no bird flu and easy availability of good chefs who know how to experiment with eggs. I am sure such a society can never have a bad egg (dishonest man) and all the good eggs (agreeable & helpful men) will have equal and enough opportunities to flourish in life. I almost begin to revel in that surroundings but, more often than not, the worldly things and duties bring me back to the real world and add to my frustration. Frustration of living in a world where epidemics like bird flu can break out any time. Bird flu means culling of fowls. No fowls means no eggs! For an egg-lover like me, this is only next to world coming to an end. Such a thought sends chill through my spine and I forsake thoughts of investing in poultry farm. How can I risk putting all my eggs in one basket?

(Deep silence for 20 minutes.)

On second thoughts, I think I spoke too much tonight. Excess of everything is bad. Isn’t it? We shouldn’t over-egg our pudding if we really want to enjoy it. I suddenly realize my fascination for eggs is bordering on obsession because I just observed that most of my sentences had idiomatic expressions related only to eggs. Hey fowls, I suggest you stay away from eggs else you might become my reflection. Wait a second…..when did I become observant? And how come I am sounding preachy? Guess the drugs (rich intake of eggs) are wearing off and my faculties are returning to normalcy. I think I will stop now. You all are educated, intelligent, seasoned and sound people. Preaching you will be like teaching your grandmother how to suck eggs.

Gosh! This is going out of hand now. I think I am walking on eggs at the moment.

Hope you liked this blog. If yes, then three loud cheers and numerous eggs to life! If not, I frankly don’t give a chicken’s arse. Go fry an egg!

A true Uttarakhandi from heart and soul, Dhirendra Negi is a young and budding Delhi-based PR professional. Connect with us: Uttarakhand Panorama@Facebook and UKPANORAMA@Twitter


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