cogitated thoughts

When you want to write something about a dish you just cooked,
I think the wisest thing to do is to write immediately after you are done with the process; when the strong, yet not so offensive smells of garlic, onions and a various assortment of spices still linger stubbornly in your hands, nasal passage and just about everywhere else. One of my wildest fears used to be that my kids would have to survive on Maggi/Top Ramen and eggs. It is thus with a distinctive contentment that I now announce my prospective menu card to the public. My kids will have to survive on Maggi/Top Ramen, eggs and….trumpets, drum roll……..DUM ALOO.

I was spending my day with my head in the clouds, reaffirming my faith in the fact that anyone who watches 12 Monkeys on Star Movies starting from 11:05 P.M must be slightly touched in the head, (Boy! N.U.T.S I tell you, I wonder who that could be) lazing around and doing what I and a lot of people like best, namely nothing…when I suddenly had this crazy idea of cooking something. Poof went the nothingness into thin air and bang came the smug, angelic expression on my face as I trudged along to put forth my wishes to the one person who could help me accomplish my goals; the virtuoso when it comes to food in the Nagesh household, the chef extraordinaire, patience in culinary matters impersonated…my mother.

So after about an hour packed with burning eyes, silent shakes of my mother’s head at seeing a certain nutter we-all-know-so-very-well-by-now try and peel the potatoes, broken peelers, jammed mixies, dirty dishes and a lot of sweat and grime; a nice looking bowl, containing the dish created by my sweet self was placed at the center of the dining table.
It’s one of the most marvelous feelings in the world to be able to take a spoon, dip it in the gravy and bring it as close to your nose as it is required for you to smell a delicious aroma, then realize that you are the one who’s created it. And when your mother takes a sniff, a taste and then gives you a small smile which you interpret as ‘Atta girl! It’ll take a while for your kids to get bored of this’ the feeling is so satisfying that it’s worth all the sweaty effort and of course it deserves a dedication on your blog.

Good food is one of those things that add a little more flavour to our lives...but it takes more than rich smells and gravies for you to remember the taste of whatever you’ve eaten. Yesterday, I went to my cousin, Shalini’s place. My aunt, Shalu and me were sitting in the semi-dark-cloudy light that is characteristic of rainy days and days bestowed with power cuts, both of which had decided to make an appearance yesterday. Shalu and me, both had a plate of akki rotti (akki is rice) in our hands. Now, akki rotti IMHO is one of the most nicest rottis any Karnatak-ite has ever come up with. But a very few people have the ability to conjure it up perfectly, crisp in the right places, not too oily and the right amount of thickness. My aunt is of course one of those people. And for a couple of moments, we forgot about how we are supposed to tick away the moments that make up a dull day and wait for someone or something to show us the way. We talked and we laughed and we ate and we listened to it rain. There have been many akki rottis in the past and there will be many of them in the future but I will remember how right it tasted yesterday for a long time.



Rainy days have already been dwelt upon by a countless number of writers/4th std kids (it’s them teachers’ favourite ‘‘essay’’ topic…that and my ambition of course)/poets/bloggers. But, when you are compelled by something like the fear of catching a cold before an exam and have to force yourself to disregard any thoughts of performing a yo ho ho and a bottle of run-tribal dance-thing out in the rain, windows play a mighty role in taking your spirits for a walk high up in the hills. Car windows, in particular have mastered the art to perfection. When raindrops fall on closed car windows, they form patterns, webs, designs; they end trains of thoughts, start some more…they are so clever that they can make me forget about everything else, so much so that I become oblivious to my dad and brother’s voices which are discussing one of the how-does-that-work questions that 12 year old kids keep coming up with or for that matter to my favourite Knopfler- song- in- the- car. And before I know it I am on one side and the entire world is on the other. It’s like everybody just decided to show me a free movie. Everything seems so perfect that it almost kills…dark looming clouds that make you forget what time of the day it is, black glistening roads, lush green trees, raincoats, drenched clothes, vehicles splashing water, almost intoxicating smells and oily rainbows. Suddenly the world’s not only beautiful anymore…it’s also pretty.
And being aware of that fact polishes my day. Perfection doesn’t kill anymore. It just installs itself in my head as a temporary boat ride. In a matter of few moments, it’ll be gone, showing someone else how the ripples move or helping something else to become pretty. Maybe it’ll pay a visit to a lake or to the kids in my apartment who get all excited when it rains…

‘Another turning point;
a fork stuck in the road.
Time grabs you by the wrist;
directs you where to go.
So make the best of this test
and don't ask why.
It's not a question
but a lesson learned in time.
It's something unpredictable
but in the end it's right.
I hope you had the time of your life.’
- Time of your life, Green day.

Kids can get excited for just about anything. A couple of days back, I was sitting on my bed with my guitar and playing this song called I’m the highway by Audioslave. It didn’t matter that the song didn’t quite sound like how it’s supposed to. I just needed a little energy so I was doing my act quite loud…singing it loud...playing it loud and when I finished I let out this satisfied-with-everything deep breath. I was aware of some movement to my left that sounded unmistakably like applause, so I immediately looked to my left and discovered four faces held close to my window’s mesh. Vinnie’s friends aged 7,12,12 and 6 respectively. The sort of age when you can get excited if someone can play ba ba black sheep on a guitar, when just the possession of a guitar by your friend’s sister is ‘cool’, when promises are meant to be kept irrespective of any external exigencies, when disappointments hit harder than they should…
Yeah, we’ve got a lot to learn, don’t we? And like I always say…learning can be a tad unpleasant sometimes. But optimism is a stubborn thing and has a loud, clear voice that says that they are quick learners…them kids…

‘I used to think, as birds take wing
They sing through life, so why can’t we?’
-I’ll take the rain, R.E.M