The dam that bust!! - case of the crooked cross-legged city boy

The day the dam nearly bust!!! That was the highlight on Saturday. Sitting cross legged for an afternoon saapaad is not my style. Just not used to it, but do make a concious effort to get used to it.
I looked like a coiled spring waiting to jump up in the air, kalaripayyattu style. I seem to have mastered pain in this coiled position, with seldom used muscles reminding me of their presence.
So, essentially, you land up in a position where the seasoned veterans look like calm and peacefull buddha's with just the halo missing and me assuming the 'anchor' position in a turbulent sea!!!
What this also means is that the distance from leaf to mouth is greatly increased, leading to a hopeless case of the liquid part of the food running down to the leaf, or even worse, a sickly trickle down the elbow. No amount of bending helps. And if you try to 'overbend', worst case scenario's predict an object that goes headfirst into the leaf filled with food.
In such a situation, if you haven't been able to get the rice on the leaf to mop up all the rasam, chances are, you will have a flood that creeps annoyingly close to the edge of the banana leaf. In panic, the only thing you can do is hurriedly ask for more rice (overeat) to stem the flow.
If you happen to be the new son-in-law, bubbly relatives will inadvertently ensure that the dam breaks every time, and millilitres of rasam engulf the green leaf, leavinng you to 'dam-fight'. Seems tough enough without the paayasa that can be added to the red rasam deluge that is served to satisfy the indian sweet tooth.

Now you have yourself the yellow dal, red rasam powder and some grey paayasa. No beautiful vibgyor here. All you get is some funny dull colour and not those feminine 'clean' colours you were taught in school that you got when you mixed different primary and secondary colours. That’s just another example that shows you how much of a difference there is between bookish knowledge and the realities of south indian food presentation

In anguish and panic you steal furtive glances to your neighbours hoping no one has noticed the bloodbath on your leaf. Once you are reassured that you are all alone in your misery, you start the work of getting control over the situation, all the while fighting the pain in your legs. Any sudden movement bring the relatives to you, egging you on not be shy when asking for food (sunkocha maad baydee). The only sunkocha here is to be left alone and everyone disappear !!! That does not happen since someone decided all such magic was limited to mythical beings, and we mortals were not to be trusted with such powers.
The rice appears magically and a question as to whether I would like to have curds rice. I don't pay attention to the 'curds' part-all I can see is a great mop in the form of the white rice. I eagerly ask for it, and this is probably taken as a sign of having no more sunkocha for the time being. Having been given the one tool you need, a vigorous activity begins to clean up the colourful leaf. After dexteriously working in the rice, you get a mix that tastes really good, but would make the best cooks in that part of the country lament akin current day psecs.
Eating the results of the flood proove to be the easiest part of the whole operation. Getting away without anyone noticing it makes you think you can handle any crisis better than those MBA school grads !!!