This story happened when the monsoon had begun its march in the city, this year, with baby steps. On one week end, around early evening, I was about to venture out to get my scooter from the service center. I was pleasantly surprised when the better half declared that he wished to join me.
For a moment or two I was lost in the memory trip, down the lane of our early courtship days, when we used to ride together. I was as high as a kite when he pointed to the overcast skies. We had a narrow dry window. From Eastman coloured reminiscing, to dark grey coloured present, the transition was fast but not so welcome by me. We then reached the service station in no time.
Finishing all the formalities, here I was riding the scooter on the way back home. Our calculations of the dry period failed by a huge margin. When we were half way through, the rains caught up with us. To be honest, I was rather waiting for this to happen. I had intentionally not taken the raincoat with me nor the umbrella.
I decided not to take shelter and go sailing on the road. Another surprise awaited me. Hubby dear who was riding pillion, seconded my choice. He broke into an old Hindi movie song. The pit-pit patter of the rain drops and I, gave him background score. By the time we reached home, we were drenched and dripping.
Another surprise disguised as shock awaited. When my daughter opened the door, we were greeted with thick fumes and the nostrils got the hint of hot oil. I was shocked. To make the things all the more intriguing, my daughter asked us to hang on in the living room and refrained us to take even a single step further. Panic and anxiety was about to reach zenith, in my mind. All nasty thoughts joined hands with conspiracy theories.
Before I could let my tongue loose, to vent out the volcanic eruption, my son emerged from kitchen. He held a platter of “Kanda Bhaji”* right in front of us. He had a twinkle in his eyes! I was surprised at this sudden presentation. The teenager boy whose relationship with kitchen was limited only to heating and re-heating food, using microwave, had stunned us with hot, spicy and tempting bolt!
After digging into ‘Kanda Bhajis’, I was full… Not only in literal sense! My heart was oozing with praises and pride for my son. The evening for me had delivered three surprises, all in a row.
Life can happen on unexpected evenings, I thought to myself, feeling soused. Sozzled me did not mind the mess in the kitchen nor the smoke-filled house, later! I was on a personal high as if I had one too many that day!
The taste still lingers on…on my tongue and in my mind!
*Kanda Bhaji: Its a MArathi word for “Pyaj Pakoda” (Hindi), Onion Fritters (English)
Linking this post to #FlvaoursomeTuesdays by Sunita Rajwade of Mumbai On High and Shilpa Gupte of Metanoia.
This is my first post for #BarAThon2018 Season3. The prompt used is “One Too Many“