<b>Kishore Singh:</b> When hunger strikes

The first day the cook packed me salad and a bowl of yoghurt for lunch, I didn't mind - everyone is entitled to an off day. But when the next day's menu appeared identical, I was infuriated - hungry too, but mostly just angry. "Is this a joke?" I reprimanded him, but it turned out not to be the cook's fault. "Madam left me this," he handed me a sheaf of papers that consisted of a list of what I was to eat while she was on holiday. I recalled that breakfast had consisted of puffed lotus seeds, flax seeds and a few bits of walnut. Now, I was being offered a portion of fruit as snack. My entreaties for something more satisfying left him unmoved - madam, it turned out, had warned him I might protest, but he was not to relent, not even to bribery.

I waited till he was out of the kitchen to raid the larder, but it had been emptied of chips and instant noodles. There were no chocolates in the fridge; the bar no longer stocked munchies. The freezer, which could usually be counted on for heat-and-eat kebabs, was bereft even of fries and wedge potatoes. My daughter had consumed the last piece of cake, and there was no more ice-cream for a lick.

Oh well, it would be dinner time soon, so when my wife phoned, I did not give her the pleasure of complaining about the meal service. "I'm well, darling," I said, "I hope you're having a good time too." It turned out she had been to see a musical preceded by dinner at a fine-dining restaurant and supper afterwards at a pub. "The food is so exciting," she said, "and super-sized, American style." I'm surprised she didn't hear my stomach growling in protest. I retained my composure under mitigating circumstances as she continued, "There was so much leftover, I had it packed for a midnight snack."

If I'd hoped for recompense on the dining table, I was disappointed with the culinary offerings of steamed bottle gourd and sauteed okra - and the inevitable bowl of yoghurt. "I'd like some eggs," I ordered the cook, but my wife had anticipated this. "Madam said not to feed you cholesterol," he explained, so the grocer had been forbidden from supplying eggs. She'd also banished bread as part of a no-carbs diet, and I wasn't to be given chapattis or rice either. Proteins were okay, but a dal soup wasn't on the menu till two days later. I licked the bowl of bottle gourd clean.

By the fourth day I was so hungry, I almost succumbed to going out for a meal - but dining alone at a restaurant has always defeated me, and checking into a hotel simply to order room service seemed a trifle excessive. Perhaps some friend would care to invite me over? But with most travelling, and others warned by my wife against offering me board, I was bereft of choices. But desperation is evidence of resourcefulness.

On my wife's third day away, I licked a jar of marmalade clean. On the fourth, I was a little sick after a feast of pickles and peanut butter. On the fifth, I managed to get by on honey, mustard and mayonnaise. Tonight, I plan to feast on cucumber sticks dipped in Nutella. I'm not losing any weight but I'm almost enjoying my diet - even though I may have to fight the dog for who has first rights on the Marmite.