I was recently called a 'ricebag convert' by some well-meaning folk on social media. This wasn't a surprise, because the people doling out these labels were all supporters of a government that hands out rewards based on how abusive one can be. I didn't react because I liked the idea of descending from people who had presumably abandoned a religion in exchange for bags of rice. I had no way of knowing if this was true, because none of them had published histories or commissioned portraits of the bag exchange ceremony, but it must have happened if so many patriotic well-wishers were pointing it out.

These were the same people who believed that banging thalis in our balconies would eliminate the COVID-19 virus, but I thought it would be churlish to remind them of this. So, I thought about rice instead, and all the things one could prepare with it. I like rice a lot, in all the million forms it is served up across India, from idlis to biryanis, and sent a silent prayer to my easily swayed ancestors for choosing this delicious route to enlightenment.