( Rambling contemplation of an incorrigible mint chutney addict. )
A minty celebration
There will be multitudes who blissfully savor Mint chutney. Only afflicted quasi-bookwormish-nerds and non-afflicted real ones, who are perennially prone to minutely investigating stuff, will appear to exclusively relish Modern Physics.
Mint chutney by any other name will continue to enchant and enthrall the predisposed section of a largely discerning public. Referring to Modern Physics as Quantum Mechanics will cast ferociously fearful shadows upon the worried countenance of many a bookwormish-nerd. One can also widely witness copious displays of uncontained bluster and unrestrained bravado with regard to alleged unparalleled proficiency on this subject that carelessly leases an obscure alias. Yet the two ultimate mind-manipulating impressions of perceived reality share a number of quintessential quirks in common.
Who could be the prime suspect for conspiratorially fostering this sorry state of affairs that reeks of deliberate disruptive disparity? Surely, it is all of us. We manage to do so by liberally exercising our inalienable rights to selectively exaggerate both our profound enjoyments and our despised displeasures, and also to our utterly irrepressible tendency for effortless accretions in every conceivable sphere of being alive.
A wormy cerebration
Consider the property of entanglement quite commonly spoken of in the context of some lineages of subatomic particles. Depraved scaremongers unequivocally shower upon this simple phenomenon, the most horrendous of epithets. The compellingly alloyed horde of otherwise individually uncomplicated words that describe it are those that we get to listen to once in a lifetime. There will be many unpretentious ways to set this apparent anomaly right, which can easily understood to be simply the behavior of two entangled particles from the domain of the drastically diminutive that insolently exhibit exactly opposing characteristics regardless of their mutual positions.
Entanglement applies quite correspondingly to Mint Chutney too. Of course it will apply equally well to a whole lot of other things, but for the 'here and now', this item alone is the indisputable centrality. To me, a particular flavor and exacting taste of a well-made sample of the dish with a set of unique idiosyncratic nuances, invariably and immediately brings back cherished memories of my late mother. A deviation from this flavor brings to mind the most grotesquely distorted features of my late mother's late friend, who was contrarily quite a good-looking, a socially-correct, and a cerebrally gifted individual. However, I heartily disliked her, perhaps due to enduringly irreconcilable incompatibilities at the deepest genetic levels.
It is many years since both of them passed on to the obstinately inscrutable other side. If this isn't entanglement at its inimitable best, nothing can be - and it magnanimously comes to us in two impressive varieties: inseparably like and doubtlessly unlike. Also, its delirious effects are adeptly conveyed across extremely vast periods of time and distance - right up to the mysterious beyond as discussed, and is assuredly instantaneous. The bitsy bourgeois exemplars on the other hand, have no propensity for variety and sport only one relative peculiarity. I honestly pity bookwormish-nerds (and their afflicted quasi counterparts) who dislike Mint Chutney. They miss so much of life multifariously manifested - in body and spirit.
A genomic tangle
By neither irrationally straying from, nor mournfully continuing with the preceding trajectory of this elevating eclectic argument, it must be said that self-appointed societal guides have time and again proven themselves to be marketers nonpareil. Succeeded have they in selling blatantly blasphemous baloney to immoderately fancied buffoons (which is the inescapable reflection of all humankind), where the atrociously defrauded have miraculously achieved communal cohesion and civilizational endurance by unquestioned adherence to every shade of ostensibly illogical ethics spawned by such baloney.
Reflect upon the genetic equivalence between exceedingly adroit humans and clumsy plants. It is said to be as much as fifty percent, if not a bit more ever so occasionally, allowing for the omnipresent convenience of range-bounded-ness. Even the feeblest of attempts to tentatively accept this fully verifiable truth is open admittance to the deliberate practice of compulsive cannibalism. So much for so many imagined moral offshoots of well-intended thought processes peddled by principled marketers with similar good intent. Without the image makeover cleverly effected by pious probity merchants, a straight-forward recipe of Mint Chutney with a subtle hint of reasonable fantasy would handily manifest as below.
The horror recipe
Deracinate ten healthy mint stalks. Be gentle during this act allowing kinship with the condemned to be expressed openly for the agony of the victims to be minimal. This caution will translate as a smooth texture of the end product. Select five tender and blemish-less leaves to be used for garnishing and set them aside. Your inherent ability to size up attractive specimen of the opposite gender or critically evaluate competitors should stand you in good stead for the step. There will be many an excrescence around to anchor your comprehensive comparisons and arrive at paradigmatic conclusions. You will after all be dealing with your fifty-one millionth cousins forty-seven million times removed, on the assumption that plants and animals had a caring common ancestor roughly two billion years ago. Measures of relationships are approximations with likely accuracies of up to a thousand generations.
Pleasurably decapitate all other leaves, strip and wash them well. Perversely sauté them in sesame oil adding a pinch of rock salt and moderately hot red-pepper-powder, particularly in liberal measure upon the wounded portions of the flesh to set them on figurative fire. Ensure that the leaves remain alive, stunned into a progressive swoon, but still conscious of happenings. This is essential for best taste.
In the final step, repeatedly shred the dying leaves in a food processing machine in a manner that glorifies gore. The sole intent must be in bestowing climactic torment upon the writhing foliole. This step will guarantee long shelf life to the finished product. If you are a true human, legitimately worthy of being referred to by this esoteric appellation, Mint Chutney would surely have become much more and sublimely appetizing by the aforesaid scrupulous portrayal of its recipe. The measures of butchery mentioned accounts for one meal of one person. Multiply them according to situational requirement.
Nothing to nothingness
There is however one benchmark which unassumingly demonstrates that everything we have spoken about so far are essentially identical - you, me, bookwormish-nerds and their afflicted quasi-counterparts, mystifying Mint Chutney, muddled Modern Physics, blasphemous baloneys, fancied buffoons, and all. This particular benchmark is set by the concept that the universe came from nothing and will merge back into nothingness (on the generally acceptable premise that nothing and nothingness are indistinguishable). Now, reflect upon the eerie property in the context of the glorified particle-level existence. The cycle time of the transformation from bust to bang and back to bust again of the universe with particles as building blocks, is billions of years. As already explained, for unsuspecting commoners who dearly love Mint Chutney, it lasts an ungraspable instant and happens spontaneously. One only has to visualize the delectable dish to satisfyingly experience everlasting bliss. Nothingness promptly pervades when the continuity of that vision abruptly snaps. All at our salty will.