Hands busy in thick of actions. Roasting “Rava” and chopping vegetables goes side by side. Clanking of the ladle, chopping sound of the knife are my companion churning a rhythmic background score for the random thoughts that also have awaken from the slumber, from the furrows and folds of brain. They are wondering at a speedy that would put the lone drifting cloud miles behind in the race. Keeping an eye on the tiny table clock, I shrug off the thoughts as I am running late. (Nothing new! I have an inkling these days that unless I am running late, I don’t work efficiently in kitchen.)
Two chubby, warm hands engulf my waist and a head that would otherwise loose its balance if not rested on my shoulder, make me forget everything. I turn around and reciprocate it with a warm bear hug. Turning my face leftwards, I wait for the morning customary kiss from my little one. In the desert of the emotions spread far and wide by the two men in my house, this morning ritual is an oasis. A moment passes by without much action. I open my eyes, my eyebrows curled up to find out what might have come in the way of morning dosage of love.
Two little, sleepy eyes are trying hard to defy the heavy weight of the eyelids. Blame it to winter, I say to myself! But winter is not the thing that is lurking on the other side of the thinking space. A heavy, groggy voice questioned, “Whats for breakfast?”, says she with her gaze fixated on the chopped veggies.
Loosening my embrace, I reply, “Upama”. By now the oil is hot enough for me to add the mustard seeds.
“Baby corn in Upama?”, crackled the little one before the mustard seeds could.
“Its vegetable Upama”, I say adding curry leaves.
“Oh gosh…one day you will add brinjal as well. Wont you?” and she is about to venture out of the kitchen little upset.
The splatter of the curry leaves is lost in the enormity of the doubt expressed by her. I take a long breath.
“How about aubergine pizza”, I check.
Pizza is a golden, magic word and it did its trick. The plodding feet stop immediately and she turns around. With wide twinkling eyes, she said, “Pizza! Why not?”.
“Aubergine is nothing but brinjal”, added the boffin, the elder one, entering the kitchen.
“Oh, really Aai…brinjal and pizza? You must have been really sick while cooking up such an awful thought of adding brinjal as topping to pizza!”, replied the little one with much disgust and with a face twisted to its maximum extent.
“Its not me, darlings. But the chefs from Italy who have it as one of their prized topping!”, I added, trying my best to keep calm, while adding the roasted Rava to the boiling mixture of seasoned vegetables.
“Lady you still are in pajamas and the bus nanny wont allow you to put a foot on the bus with it”, said Mr Right in making, clearing his throat after finishing his milk, darting his eyes straight in the direction of the little one. And he had all the right for saying so, as he was ready with his bag and about to go.
“Good Lord, I have maths paper today”, said the little one.
That was googly for me. I demanded an explanation, “What does that mean?”, sprinkling coriander on Upama in the pot that was ready by now.
“Simple. Maths is my favourite. So, anything that is not my favourite is okay today. Thankfully it’s not English paper, today”, she cleared the air.
“You mean, had it been English paper, you would have considered it as a bad omen?”, checked the elder one with much contempt in his tone.
“Yup… 666… English is such a darn one! Hahaha”, and she rushed to the bedroom to get ready.
That left me to wonder, ‘can brinjal be a soft target when it comes to fixing the blame to?’ Poor brinjal! Imagine the politicians blaming it to brinjals instead of EVMs or anti-incumbency wave for not getting elected or an ‘A Lister’ Bollywood star blaming it to brinjals for not crossing 2Cr box office collection, instead of poor acting or story line?
‘How about adding brinjal or say Zucchini or say Broccoli next time to Upama?’ wondered my thought again, this time to a far-fetched frontier! Wont I be able to safely blame it to them if the dish or for that matter the entire day, doesn’t turn out well? Eureka!!!
What do you say?
Linking this post to #MondayMusings by Corinne Rodrigues of Everydaygyaan