Boldly continuing to expose the slightly unpleasant aspects of life in a law school, The Diarist now chooses to highlight another vital facet of student life. In this heart-wrenching and shudder-inducing tale, The Diarist speaks of the evils that arose from the college canteen, the trials and tribulations suffered by students and the eventual triumph of good (food) over evil.

‘Twas the darkest night of the winter in the hallowed year of the Lord 1996, that a great army of evil did descend upon the people of Chotagaon Law University, Chotagaon. In vain did the good people arm themselves with Steel wills and Iron constitutions, in vain did they gird their loins and gather their utensils, for the dastardly forces of Aloo Tamater and Rajma Masala rent their tongues and cast their lifeless, flatulent carcasses across the sorrowing plains.

Undaunted were the bravehearts, who rose again to launch offensive after offensive of salt and then of sugar, but the Gajar Tamater remained unharmed. No fork of tempered steel nor spoon of shining nickel could cause but a dent in Gajar’s stony countenance; and the Tamater’s villainous, leathery visage has since found a great and terrible place in the dark legends of children’s horror literature.

Hell? Ha! Hell was but a large-sized sauna, my friends, for true evil was birthed in Chotagaon, from the gruesome loins of Satyam Shivam Caterers. Clad in robes woven from the hatred of generations of students and fragrant with the fumes of rancid fat, did the henchmen of Satan roam their shadowy quarters in Ye Olde Mess, their raucous cackling striking fear into hearts everywhere and their Chane Ki Daal causing death by farts everywhere.

In a trice did the unhappy gentlefolk cast aside their liberal educations; without a moment’s thought did they build holy shrines and light sacred fires to appease the horrible deity; without regret did they offer up terrible sacrifices to appease the forces of catering evil. My first son for a non-Aloo side-dish on weekends! Cried one winsome lass. One goat and my Income tax notes for a Non-veg dinner twice a week! Sobbed a broken lad. Half a grade point and my lucky underpants for no more Karela Monday! Pleaded a bearded veteran on his knees.

To no avail were their passions, for no mercy resided in the shadowlands of Ye Olde Mess. Ancient vegetables and anorexic chickens in their various avatars, continued to be hurked out like so many oily bullets from the throat of a phlegmy Minotaur, and continued to be consumed by the vaguely hungry, dully defiant hundreds who, due to the bucolic location of Chotagaon, were neither afforded the privilege of restaurant dining nor privy to the miracle of home-delivery. It was indeed a clever and dastardly ploy by the forces of (catering) evil, but every dog is alleged to have its day and this metaphorical canine finally found its own, one beautiful Wednesday afternoon.

It was the day of the debut of Bandh Gobhi, Karelay aur Tamater ki Sabzi.

Being as they are gentle of demeanour and benign in temper, it is common knowledge that vegetables allow themselves to be married in an almost infinite number of arrangements. However it is known to every member of every civilized nation on our planet, that even in the most incestuous communities must the line of societal horror be drawn somewhere; it is clear that the vegetabular line must be drawn at Bandh Gobhi, Karelay aur Tamater ki Sabzi, or thereabouts.

For one endless moment of horror and revulsion did the students contemplate their gravy.

For one endless moment of suspense was the breath of the College collectively drawn.

When that breath was finally let, it was clear that things had changed forever, for blood had grown hot, ire had been roused and gentlefolk were gentlefolk no more.

Casting themselves free of the majesty that had for centuries marked the proud tribe of Chotagaon and summoning the powers of dark ancestors long dead, the good people took to online forums and city streets to decry the states of their souls and their stomachs.

Petitions were made to the great Sovereign. Do we have to eat rajma everyday? The masses did cry; Why is tamater in everything?! queried one lad in a voice that would break your heart. The masala is too much! there are only two chicken pieces in a plate! the sambhar is drainwater! – the voices did grow ever louder and ever more desperate, but the honourable King held his heartless silence. The piles of petitions mounted to fearsome heights and the voice of the people grew unmistakably shrill; still the gentle King held his stony silence. Bowels shrivelled to nothing and died; the corpses of taste buds lined the streets; empty Maggi packets littered roadsides like milkweed; yet the glorious King in his indisputable discretion under Section 23(1)(ac) of the Chotagaon Law University Act, 1995, chose to keep his silence.

For many days did the proletariat conflict hopelessly with the King; many weeks went by that the populace subsisted on Cup Noodles and cigarettes. But hope had only begun to ebb and Gwar Fali to, impossibly, look tempting again, that – could it be? - a beacon of hope manifest itself upon the farthest horizon!

Riding in upon a black autorickshaw came a great warrior, the finest of the Chotagaon young, a golden lad.

“McDonalds is opening today in Chotagaon!” cried he in silver tones.

“They’re giving a flat 30% discount all day today!” quoth he in merriment.

Forests fell, mountains trembled, the earth split along its spine and the very heavens opened up in a storm of hail and lightning, as the venerable gates of Chotagaon Law University fell open in a thunderous clap and the occupants of that esteemed institution poured into the roads of the realm with only one thing on their mind.

Birds took to the skies in squawking fear and cars to the sidewalk, as the good people pushed hungrily forward, hypnotized by visions of unidentifiable meat and fried carbohydrates dancing like so many obese dervishes before their Bhindi-saturated eyes.

And hark! The Golden Arches were spotted on the blessed horizon, sparkling verily like the Gates of Heaven. The crowd poured in like a Biblical flood, occupying every tiled inch of that establishment – and then the manna did truly fall from the skies, oh friends! – for at the end of the two frightening hours that followed, there remained not a single unmolested McChicken in the kitchen, not a full glass of Pepsi in the dispenser, and not a whole Happy Meal Toy in the showcase.

Our heroes did eventually return to College to continue their long and weary struggle, but the tale of their heartwarming first victory spread quickly to other, dispirited Colleges in other desolate lands. Ronald McDonald was speedily elevated to sainthood; indeed, generations of law students continue to make the weekly pilgrimage to sit in his lap and click pictures on their telephonic devices, throw filthy lucre at his profiteering franchisees and consume their fatty product of joy in defiant acts of eternal war on Gwar Fali everywhere.

For if you live in a rural area, go to law school and value your sanity, McDonald’s mein indeed hai kuch baat  and thank Jebus for that.

Amen.