One fine day at RS, as usual we were sitting bored with our usual dearth of ideas, when suddenly someone said the word “veggies”. Like a haystack catching fire by a matchstick, the whole team flared up with boosting energy, heated arguments were exchanged between the veggie-lovers and haters, and thus, the ultimate battle of vegetables commenced. This week, we bring some of the wonderful vegetables in front of you and eventually, try to prove how wonderful these vegetables are. And boy, shall we win majestically.
Now that we have shown you the delicious side of veggies, let us take a different route.
If you're back after scarfing down bag loads of spinach, we just want to say that vegetables portray the more realistic side of life. They may not taste as good as ice cream or candy but that's the stuff that will get you through. Candy may taste good, but you won't be too fond of the stuff after you lose all your teeth. In many ways it is like illegal drugs. Say no to candy and yes to vegetables.
By Shamsil B. M. Kamal and Alvi Ahmed.
The Roots of All Evil
Let us say this because it needs to be said. Vegetables are bad. Let us say this because it needs to be emphasised. Vegetables are bad. Let us say this again because we aim to be annoying. Vegetables are bad.
The Story of Cabbage: On a fine fair afternoon, the world found a cabbage. The world was still young and new, and it didn't quite know what to do with the cabbage. It offered it to the sheep but the sheep shied away, opting for grass (heh). The world then offered it to the cow but the cow was already disdainfully munching cud. The cabbage was then offered to the goat, who decided to eat everything else except the cabbage. The world, desperate, offered it to the wolves. The wolves decided to starve.
The world, now thoroughly pissed, went to the humans and used cunning intellect and bare lies to tell man that cabbage was good for him. Sure it tasted bad, but hey, it would help you in the toilet. Man, being still young and impressionable and quite constipated, decided, hey, free cabbage.
Many moons later, in an era of great enlightenment and handheld computers, man finally saw through the veil. Cabbage stinks. Badly.
The Dherosh Epoch: There was a woman. She was just a woman. Tired of the patriarchal society that did not let her condition her hair, she ran off to join the circus. Except this was a cruel time and there were no circuses. Just people in markets peddling rabbit food. The woman, devious and intelligent, decided to take the peddlers' market by storm.
She was a farm girl and knew all manner of herbaceous secrets. She scoffed at the potatoes that the peddlers sold. She turned up her nose at the cucumbers. Those were but edible tubers. She used her exemplary skills of persuasion and got chummy with Mother Earth and managed to wheedle out the secret of the bane of Man.
And thus armed, she did invent her own breed of edible stock and used her womanly acumen to bring low the market of Man. In her arrogance she called her devious fruit, Lady Fingers.
Men now know of this evil as Ocra in western climes and here, in the east, they fearfully utter the name of Dherosh.
Genesis Potol: There was a gunfight. At the beginning of the universe, which is a place and a time. Physicists have died to figure what caused the fight, or if there was a woman involved. All they know is that someone had a gigantic shotgun. They called the shotgun the Big Bang.
This celestial shotgun was a 12-gauge-pump-action creator of heavenly destruction. It has been conjectured that the buckshots had a wide spread. Such was the gun's range and power that its incendiary rounds flew far and wide into all corners of the universe. Some of those high calibre pellets reached our very own Earth and killed the dinosaurs.
Embedded in the shrapnel were the seeds. And after the great Brontosaurus was discovered to be a lie, man found the fruit of the great Shotgun. And because he was a Neanderthal he ate it. And died out.
That fruit, the one that carries the Seed, has become a synonym for Death himself. Also called Potol.
The Gourd of Civilisation: In an old city, much hated by its inhabitants, Man was festering and dying in his own waste. Such was their plight that they gave into filthy corruption. Over time, they came to be ruled by their despair and spite.
The children of this accursed city became the worst of humanity, so far removed from salvation that even the devil refused to take them. And among them rose a man; a magician, a false facer, a mummer, a jester and a mime. But mostly he was a magician.
He, with his black knowledge spoke with dreaded demons of the Vine and the Tree, who had long been wronged by Mother Earth. He poisoned them with lies of absolution and movement; he told little saplings stories of walking and running. And in exchange, he asked of them a simple boon. To give him, a fruit. A gourd.
He took this gourd back to his city and planted the first seed in the cobbles of the main square beneath a denuded statue. And thus was the damnation of that city sealed.
But the evil of the fruit found a way to escape its grimy walls. Alexander, with his conquering fervour, broke the city in half, and the Lau, was freed of its bonds.
Why do you think Alexander died so young?
The Truth of Flowers: In a garden, things bloomed. Constantly. The moist soil spat out one beauty after another, with thorns, with fragrance, with finesse and elegance and colour.
The garden was young and strong and much enamoured of beauty and thus it bent all its strength into creating the perfect specimen of earthly magnificence. But time passed and the garden grew tired and weary. Beauty was ever fleeting. It knew its end was coming, to finally lay its hoe to rest.
It was creating yet another flower, to shame all the others, when the garden failed. The flower was left half made. In the final hours of its life, the garden decided to make a last push towards success. But something went wrong. It was too weak and that doomed attempt saw the energies skewered and misdirected. The flower mutated.
For want of a sweet blossom, the garden created a vegetable. Cauliflowers.
Grimoire a la Spinach: This history has long been forgotten. It is the secret that created the schist between Socrates and Plato, which killed the teacher and embittered the student. This history, speaks of a glorious nation, one that found peace, prosperity and the true meaning of life. This history speaks of the evil that brought ruination upon perfection. The Great Fall of Atlantis.
Atlantis was long the jewel and its bounteous treasures were coveted by all. The good people of Atlantis taught and shared what they could, enlightening the ignorant. But jealousy recognises no kind deed. The world could not abide such pure goodness. It was like a vacuum, a great weight, waiting to be filled with hate.
The first pirate was an honourable, upon a holy mission. He thought the tattoo upon his shoulder meant something, that the pipe he was given was a symbol of greater meaning. Little did he know that he was the vessel of corruption. In his defence, he was half blind. No, really.
The pirate carried with him, a little box of seed-grain. He was told to go to Atlantis and give the good people a gift of friendship. A new and exciting vegetable. Spinach.
Little did he know that Spinach would break the world. For Spinach was the vegetable of rage and strength. It lowered inhibitions and caused man to destroy. The Atlanteans never saw it coming. In spinach-full rage they broke apart their mountain and shattered the earth.
The fire and water rose through the cracks and consumed the Atlanteans and carried the seed-grain across the Earth,
Even today, the tales of Spinach are singularly violent, whereupon man is brought closer to the beast. Popeye anyone?
By The Gruesome Statistic and The Awful Fact
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