The Bird – Finding a nest

A series of stories of a bird who leaves his parents’ nest and moves on to live his life in his own way.

While finding a dwelling place, he missed his home and remembered how it was on the day he left that place, forever.

… …

The wind was gushing past his dark brown feathers while he had his strong, young wings fully spread in the sky. He was flying since several suns now. And he hadn’t been able to find a place to crash so far. He flew from forests to abandoned buildings to rural campsites to urban localities. But all the places were either occupied or weren’t free from human breech. At all the places, he was either shooed off by other birds or by mankind.

He was in constant upheaval since the time he moved out of his parents nest. He clearly remembered that day when his mother had told him that now he had grown into an adult bird and had to go on his own path, while Dad had looked at him from his usual watch-spot, doing his duty of precautionary lookout.

Dad had taught him all the survival and combat measures. And mother had taught him to fly, to stay full and everything else. He had looked into their faces for the one last time, a long moment before leaving that old house-top, forever.

He had flown up into the sky with his newly trained, strong, young wings. He had pictured mother and father watching him fly away from the ground below, but had not turned his head to look back. It was difficult to move on. It would be impossible to go if he looked back. A tear had escaped his eyes and had flown in the gushing wind past his feathers in the sky, then had started to descend down towards the ground.

On the old house-top, mother had been strong so far. She was watching his son fly high in the sky, not looking back, his strong boy. But then she felt it. She felt a pain in her heart, she knew her son was sad somehow. She flew in a blink, the father was too slow to stop her. He was in his own dilemma. Dad watched his son fly, tearing the wind. He wanted to say something to him before he left. He wanted to bite him over his head and cuddle him before he left for his long journey. He wanted to fly a few miles with him, making sure he remembers his lessons. But he couldn’t. He was Dad after-all. He has to maintain his strong composure. May be next time he sees him, he will say things, he will let himself break emotionally.

The mother flew, but not towards her son. She flew on the ground in the same direction as he did. He shouldn’t know how she felt. That would only make it more difficult for him. But she wanted to see the most of him before his son was gone out of her reach. She flew right below him, giving quick glances towards him in the sky, while dodging all the obstacles on the ground. She took a sudden bent in her path to duck a street light and did a barrel roll. While she was half-way through the barrel roll, with her wings open towards the sky, a drop of water had fallen on her chest. And she had stopped right there after completing the barrel roll. Her heart could make out what the drop of water was – the same make as the one that rushed out of her eyes at the moment.

They would be proud, but scared as well till the time he proves himself worthy by living out in the open world without their protection, he thought. And so he moved swiftly, but without watching the path. His mind wasn’t in the flying, his wings were doing it for him. He will move from one place to another, till the time he found a safe shelter. May be some day, he will have a place where he could invite them to stay with him, if he sees them again.


Chronicles of a 25 something Man

An essay on the life of a 25+ boy, who juggles through his changing life between almost similar choices, taking tough decisions, living up to weird and new expectations thrust onto him and trading his dreams for buying time for other things…

… …

He is sitting in his big office chamber. There are clients waiting outside for just 5 minutes of meeting with him, for which he would charge them ample sum of money, while they are willing to pay that as his advice really makes them a great deal. He has found his love of life and is happily married to her. It was life-changing for him to marry her, yet she somehow manages to keep his life as casual and fun-filled as it was before their marriage. Surely, they are great together. His parents are proud of him of achieving so much and settling down happily in his life. They are currently on a world tour, which he gifted them as a surprise for their Silver Jubilee together. He is planning yet another trip to a new country, planning to expand his services beyond borders. But right now, he has to give an inspiring speech to young minds over the web. Surely he loves to pass on his wisdom to young and aspiring students. He couldn’t ask for anything more from God, as he loves his life and his job and his family. A Pigeon comes flying from the balcony and hits hard on his glass window, breaking a crack on it…

He wakes up to find a pigeon making mess in his balcony. He lazily lifts up his leg and falls it hard on the bed again, making a huge thud sound that scares away the bird. He knows it is dawn, and that he should wake up and run the race, but he prefers to dream that dream, so he goes back to sleep. Just when he could recreate that scene again in his mind, the door bell rings. The maid’s here.

He walks to the door, opens it and pays not even a fraction of time to look who’s standing at the door. He comes back, dragging his feet back to his bed. And looks at the wall against his bed for all the time the maid cleans the house. When it is time for the maid to go, he gets up and quality-checks the whole house to find flaws, if any, in maid’s work.

As soon as the maid leaves, his daily routine starts… While brushing his teeth, he thinks of all the decisions he has to make, of all the pending tasks on his plate and of all the big habits that he has to adhere to. It gets more than mouthful, and he has to spit them all out. Both lather and tasks.

While bathing, he thinks about changing his current consuming and growth-free job and choosing something else. But he’s unable to decide onto a particular “something else” on which he can focus. The whole time while bathing, his mind is occupied with various career options available to him and also considers an option to study further, which opens up some more career options…

It’s Friday, but that doesn’t lift up his spirit like it used to a few years back; as he could wear his favorite t-shirts and jeans. Now, formals felt him safer as he had to choose from only a few (one or two) washed and ironed pair of clothes from the wardrobe, or just grab something he had worn earlier and spray it with an ounce of deo. Looking good is no longer his priority, as it doesn’t make him feel good about himself, not any longer.

He goes to the mirror and looks at his messed up hair. If it was a few years back, he would have spent a few minutes, or may be more than a few, to make his hair kempt. But he no longer had anyone to look good for, neither he have that much time now. He had start working on his task list he had prepared in the morning.

He has to choose from several totally similar looking investment opportunities to earn a better returns on his savings. He has to choose between buying a new house or postponing that idea to future. He has to take decisions about his life… big decisions, that required quite an introspection to find out what he wants from his life – something he was no longer sure since a few years now.

He gets a series of notifications from his father. They are all about prospective life partners for him. His father is hasty about getting him married, and he isn’t sure about that manner of marrige. He had always thought he would eventually know whom from his known circle he wants to marry. Choosing from a bunch of strangers haunts him, let alone his disbelief in the concept of marriage. But he has to check those profile anyway, he’s getting older and has no serious friends, no relationship prospects and no life, for that sake. He is already late, like everyday, for his 9 to 7 desk job.

He starts his bike and it gives out a groaning cry, asking for relief from its services. It has been 10 years now. He thinks about buying another bike for him, or a car as his family wants (to show to others and prospective bride’s family, and of course, for his comfort too). Another choice, which invites several series of choices, one after other. He has several brochures and options bookmarked in his wishlist. But choosing one is a task he’s been working on since several months now.

It isn’t easy to drive while your mind is pre-occupied with several things at once and you’re not concentrated on the road. But he has driven on this road for so many years now, that he knows the potholes and even other fellow drivers on the road and makes his way smoothly even without looking around on the road. More so as he couldn’t care much about meeting with an accident. He needed a break anyway, from everything.

He reaches the office and shuffles through his backpack to find that darn ID to prove his belongingness to that building, even when those walls knew him in and out. His bag had never been this messed up before, but now, he didn’t care. He had bigger things to work out in his life. Bigger mess to clean…

His phone started ringing and he woke up from his daydreaming at his desk. It was time for another meeting. He got up and rushed towards the conference room, without anything in his hands, or even mind. He had many years’ worth of experience for those meetings, they yielded nothing. All the while in the meeting, he thought about why he couldn’t remember anything from the point he was searching for ID downstairs at the gate and to the time he was daydreaming at his desk. That was 3 hours worth of time, memory, lost.

He shuffled through different notifications on his phone while sipping that sugerless coffee. There were several overdue reminders, cleaning the cupboard, a blog idea, buying the kindle in the next sale, checking out a website for new ideas… Some of them were overdue for weeks now. He crossed out the reminder about working on a new product for his start-up. No, he hadn’t completed that. He crossed it out as that product was already launched by someone else and ran successfully in the market.

He fixed that last spreadsheet for the day and sent it to his manager, replied to another list of queries from client that made no sense at all, filled up a survey about employee satisfaction conducted by the company in which he chose mostly random options as the options like ‘not aware about it’, ‘do not like it’, ‘dissatisfied’, ‘no career helps available’, or option to write your own answer to a yes/no question weren’t t available to those set of questions.

It was weekend the next day. That was supposed to cheer him up, but he was working on Saturday. Anyway, it didn’t matter as if he had not been working, he still wouldn’t have had any plans anyway. He hardly had people he could call friend, or to better put it, he hardly befriended anyone and gave them opportunity to get closer to him and his life. Sunday went without any smile on his face and he completed a few of the tasks from his long to-do list. But that added several other new to-dos in his list…

Sunset was always beautiful to him. That would give him ideas for his blog. And night was the best time to let his creativity out. And by the time he would wake up, he would have created a masterpiece of a story or a discussion or just an observation narrative. But this time, sunset reminded him of another choice he had to make today – dinner options. He stayed alone and had to eat outside everyday, alone. He skipped the decision and assumed he wasn’t hungry. The real reason was he was just bored of eating the same things everyday without any company. That night he slept bad, empty stomach does feel bad, but he knew that already.

While watching the fan above his head, he thought of a few lines and a poem formed on its own in his mind. He immediately got up and started scribbling it on the piece of paper he kept besides his bed. The start was good, but in the middle, he got lost of his idea and the words that had earlier popped up on their own. And by the time he reached its end, he had already creased up the paper to throw it in the garbage can. His mind hardly supported him nowadays.

He started thinking about the pros and cons of various choices that were available for some big decisions he had to take. The thinking continued for a long time, making an elaborate and detailed list of pros and cons, but not giving out a winner… Soon exhaustion took over him and he was lost again in his dreams, probably the only place he loves being at, but can’t. He has a life to live…

Fear of Tests

Fear of Tests

No matter what test it is, there’s always a fear of test crawling into my confidence, slowly weakening it.
… ….

No matter what kinda test that I’m supposed to give, there will always be a fear of test imbibed into my inner self, crawling over my confidence and slowly weakening it.

The fear of test doesn’t go away as we grow up. It stays, hidden, ready to attack whenever another test or task comes up. It was so dearly implanted and nurtured by parents, teachers and society during my education years that now it is almost impossible for me to ignore it.

Usually, we sense this fear as soon as we get to hear the word – test or any of its synonyms. We feel so dejected by the fact that we are supposed to be giving a test soon. And that is not just the only food to feed this fear.

No matter how meager the value of the test is or how less it’s gonna impact our life, everything around us conspires to make it such a big deal for us in our lives that we also believe in that!

When it comes to giving a test, there’s always a cost of exam attached. Hence, we fear that our expense might not yeild proper return if we don’t clear the exam in the first attempt.

Our family members keep on reminding us about our exams and that we should be working for it, that we should be practicing for it. It keeps on hitting our gut so hard that the test is such a big deal and we won’t be able of clear it is we don’t try hard.

On the day of exam, our mom brings ‘dahi shakkar’, giving us best wishes for the exam. But that too reminds you of the exam, the seriousness, if you have forgotten it.

This all happened with me recently… I had my driving test.

I don’t own a car. I haven’t had driven car ever in my life. I took driving classes, which were pretty bad actually. And I didn’t have any practice for the driving test. And I can go on and on giving excuses for my lack of preparation for the test. But yes, I did have that fear of test even in this case.

All the events that I narrated above happened with me, except ‘dahi shakkar’. But yes, praying before God happened in my case, that’s the way we do it in my family instead of ‘dahi shakkar’.

Then all the fear accumulated and came out while giving the test in various forms like perspiration, heavy breathing, and haste and lack of confidence. My mind went blank and I did miserably at the things I was good at actually. The result was negative. And I came home with my first failure in life.

People say that failures are very important if you want to achieve something big. Well, it certainly didn’t feel anything like that. I let. E while episode pass by and thought it to be just a driving test. Not a big deal. But the fear of tests was not to be defeated so easily.

As soon as I came home, my mom came out running, eagerness on her face… She had already assumed my result to be positive. And it took me great effort to prove it to her that I was saying the truth when I said I failed.

Then her expression turned from eagerness to worrisome bothersome tension. That expression which can give you goosebumps instantly inside your head. The fear of test started to creep into me again.

She asked me several questions about what went wrong. I sincerely answered. Then she gave several advices on how I should have taken up this task and explained to me how poorly I had practiced and what were all the flaws in my methodology.

After an hour of discussion from her side, and listening from my side, I actually started to feel bad about not clearing the test. And that was another food for my fear of tests.

Then I spent the whole day thinking about the whole episode and it bothered me to much to not have cleared it at one go. I was already scared for my next attempt. And that was when I had lost the game… even before playing it.

All the people who knew about my driving test asked me questions for the next whole week. And they never let me conquer over the fear of tests in my mind. All of that made the roots of that fear strong and well established in my guts.

The constant nagging, reminding of the tests, setting of expectations and my good self nature of trying to honor their expectations, all the time, made it worse.
I was on the verge of breakdown… When my friend talked with me about it and laughed. She said what’s the big deal about a driving test! It doesn’t even impact you in anyway serious… I calmed down for a bit.

But people were always trying to bring out the fear from deep inside my heart… For it never dies. It stays, lives with us, feeds on our confidence and helps us in every way possible to fail the test. Brings us all the pain of not meeting the expectations and the mockery & harrasment from society.

So I dedicate this failure to all those who helped me not forget my fear for tests and to all those who have made sure that the fear stays with me forever… Thank you.

Small Bites with Family: Accidental Booze

A series of funny and interesting incidents that happen with me and my family.

Find my other posts under the same tag:

… …

This time it’s gonna be about the time when you accidentally drink infront of your parents…
What happens when someone offers you a vodka shot and you take it openly, without realizing that someone is watching you… 😛
… …

Now for those of you who found this title weird and think that what’s wrong in doing this, kindly consider that I come from a dry state and here no one would have ever seen me drinking before.

So this happened when I had gone to a different state for giving my presence in my sister’s wedding. This state doesn’t have restrictions on drinking and it’s very normal for people to drink.

It was sangeet night, the night when there’s open battle of dancing between bride’s side and groom’s side. Battle is namesake, everyone just wants to enjoy and dance.

We were on the dance floor and we almost had forgotten where we were and who all were watching us. Our concentration was mainly on dancing and impressing people in nearby vicinity.

But then suddenly, someone from our group comes with a bottle of water and offers it to everyone while drinking it himself. Being from a dry state, you never suspect a water bottle and humbly accept it with gratitude. So did I while taking a big gulp from the bottle, till that person took it away from me.

But as the vodka drains down your throat and every thing it touches heats up, you know that it’s too late… In my case, I came to know it a little later when it has successfully landed on my stomach bed.

I ignored it and kept dancing. Good thing is that a few gulps doesn’t do any harm / good to me. I stay sober nonetheless. I didn’t see anyone around me. But back in my mind, I knew that everyone had seen me drink from that bottle.

When my eyes accidentally met my mom’s, she immediately gestured me to come down the dance floor and talk. And I knew it will be a serious talk.

I somehow managed to keep a calm face, innocence on it. As I didn’t suspect the water bottle to contain anything else than water, so I couldn’t be held guilty, I thought.

She asked me did I drink anything that anyone else offered? This was a truth test. I passed. I told her what happened, exactly as it happened. She warned me to not accept anymore drinks from anyone as there it was normal for those people. I silently obliged…

I went back to the dance floor, handled the repercussions of the vodka on my body and danced my heart out. Again, everyone around me was a bit drunk, and ditzy. Whereas, I was sober, as far as dizziness is concerned. We all danced like maniacs, but the thought came to my mind afterwards that people might have thought that it was vodka that made me dance crazy…

When I came back from the dance floor, ready to leave the party, I felt thirsty. I grabbed a water bottle from a nearby waiter. My mom instantly snatched it from me and tasted it herself to check that it was actually water. I smiled at her while taking back the bottle, but I was thinking… How different people see a particular act, when they come from a different background and environment!

Anyways, the night went well, and vodka gulp didn’t have any visible effect on me. Fingers-crossed…

The Curious Case of my Sister

The Curious Case of my Sister


Last night, I came to know that my cousin sister was suffering from depression. When my aunt narrated the whole case to me, I felt anger, worry and disgust at the same time for various things and people.

She is in her junior high school final year. Her final exams are going to decide her fate for high school admissions. Apart from the fact that those exams were necessary for her further studies, they got her into clinical depression. However, the exams were not the only reason for her illness. There were other reasons involved too.


When I had last met her, she was doing her homework. Out of curiosity, I peeked into her work. She was writing word-to-word, punctuation-to-punctuation from the textbook into her notebook!

I asked her if she was given any punishment or what, that she was copying each letter out of the textbook.

She replied that this was the way they taught at her School. It was a general practice to write the whole chapter two times word-to-word from textbook. So that they could remember the whole text and answer any question they might ask in exams!

At that time, I had pointed out that it was not a correct approach and that she should work more on understanding the concept than on scoring marks in exams.

My sister replied that her School and her Board/University expects Students to write exactly the way the textbook prints. If they wanted a good score, they had to mug up the textbook to score good. Writing answers in their own way would only give them passing marks or even less. And if they don’t get good marks, they won’t get admission to reputed colleges/institutions. The degrees and certifications won’t be that valuable while competing for job in big companies, as they shortlist candidates based on their final score.

This highlights a serious problem with the education system in our country and the systems dependent on it.


While her teaching approach was as useless as her teachers, another thing that got her into depression was lack of rest. I got to know her daily schedule from her mother.

– Wake up at 5 am
– 7 am to 12 School
– 12 to 2 pm Extra Classes and Tests at School
– 3 pm Reach home for her first regular meal of the day
– 4 to 6 pm Tuitions
– Reach home and start working on homework (such as copying of whole textbook) from School and Tuitions till late night 11-12.
– Then go to sleep dreaming about tomorrow’s day at school, taunts from teachers when she’s not able to recite word-by-word from the textbook and the test.

And after this hectic schedule, she was not even able to understand the practical implications of what she was studying! Her teachers would first humiliate her in front of the whole class and then call her parents, if she didn’t complete her homework or couldn’t recite the textbook fluently. And her teacher wouldn’t accept any other answer or concept suggested by other authors, but only the things written in their textbook.


So the reasons that caused her depression were hectic schedule, pressure from teachers and school, pressure from society and future, illogical and orthodox educational and evaluation system and ignorance by parents.

I see our educational system going on a wrong direction of marks-based evaluation. Several tests, semesters and projects are loaded onto the over-occupied minds of students and then they are pressurized to score well. Competition among the students adds to the pressure and the silent support from parents serves as a multiplying factor.

So what can be done about it? Anything at all?

Please Daddy Please Mummy

(In words of a kid whose parents fight a lot…)


Please Daddy, Please Mummy,
Please don’t fight…

From childhood I’ve been observing,
Since then I’ve been thinking,
Is it me or is it you,
That you both are still together!
As the way you fight on petty issues,
The way you disagree most of the time,
It doesn’t seem like there’s any understanding between you.
I cannot seem to recover from this regret,
Of not being able to make things right,
Please daddy, please mummy,
Please don’t fight…

I understand that petty fights are normal,
That it happens in all the relationships,
But then, other things also happen,
But not so in your case, mum-dad,
I don’t remember you two valuing each other,
For the other’s love and care,
But only bashing about each other’s flaws and faults…
I cannot sleep with such scenes in my head,
I try to close my eyes and make my dreams instead,
Please daddy, please mummy,
Please don’t fight…

I have concluded that marriage in life-
Is bound to fail, bound to break,
Why spoil the pair with several tugs, frequent attack,
My best friend and others try to make me understand,
But my mind is now stuck and I can’t take any other stand…
With each and every time you both argue,
I lose my trust in friendship and relationships,
I stopped believing in being together forever,
As for me, togetherness is not physical, but from within,
If you wanna change my beliefs, if you wanna make me right,
Please daddy, please mummy,
Please don’t fight…

I know mummy, Dad’s a jerk sometimes,
He gets angry at you for his own failures,
For he is now spoiled in bad troupe,
He smokes, and lies, and wastes money,
And blames you for everything wrong,
Without accepting his own flaws and faults,
But don’t you still love him like that?
Doesn’t he work hard everyday to fulfill your wishes?
Doesn’t he stand for you when needed?
You know he’s old and forgets a lot,
You know he is like that, and cannot be changed,
Then why do you care, why do you cry,
Just ignore him and move on, or else,
Be strong to tell him that he’s wrong…

I know daddy, mommy’s little irritating,
She confuses over little decisions,
She develops prejudice based on people’s look,
She ain’t as systematic and orderly as you,
But don’t you still love her like that?
Doesn’t she cleans your shit and makes your house livable?
Hasn’t she left her whole family to make one with you?
Don’t you think she feels lonely all day without you?
You know, like you, she’s getting old too,
Can’t you help her with her work? Or not increase it, at least?
Accept her with her flaws, or else-
Have guts to accept you own faults too,
But don’t croak, don’t mumble behind her back…

We all have flaws, we all have limitations,
We cannot be perfect, we cannot be other’s dream,
But don’t you know? People can never be perfect,
But relationships can be… We can make them perfect!
Either live with each other happily, or else-
Accept to leave each other and move on happy,
But don’t make things more complicated,
By living together unhappily…!
At least, for my sake, may be,
Please daddy, please mummy,
Please don’t fight…

I am scared of being closer to someone,
I run away of being tied to a relation,
I wander here and there for belongingness,
But as soon as I get it, I devalue it,
As I am corroded with the idea-
That Love never lasts…
Can you help me mummy?
Can you help me daddy?
In making me believe in feelings again?
Can you help me by not fighting again?

Please daddy, please mummy,
Please don’t fight…

Cooking with(out) mum


Food is the greatest motivator in this world. Nothing can motivate a person or any creature to do things that he had not even imagined.

For a person like me, who had spent his 20 years without even peeling the banana on his own (okay that was exaggerated :P) tried cooking his food all by himself.

The reason, the inspiration? Sudden interest in cooking? No…
Competition? No…
Money? Never…
Some sort of eye-opener, some provoking, mind-changing idea or lesson? You’re kidding, right? 😛

The only thing that inspired me to do this was food! 😀 Yeah… You read it right.

I was hungry and I was sick of eating the same tasteless food at those expensive restaurants. So this is a narrative how it happened…


It was early morning, and my eyes opened (kinda strange as I usually wake up late and last night I slept at 3 in the morning and, hey, it was Sunday!) I did the usual stuff and went to my kitchen to see if I can find anything to put into my mouth. (That’s the first thing I do every morning… Food inspires me to live! :D)

There was nothing to put in my mouth directly. I checked the vegies section, and oh boy! Things were so rotten! (I had bought them, thinking that I would be preparing something, but the me inside me was never gonna put some efforts onto things he love – here to eat! 😛

I was about to throw everything in the garbage. But then I thought – how will I know that the things I am throwing are actually rotten? Except for those food that smell bad or transform into something like decomposed manure, I can not know that the food has actually rotten.

Normally, the search engines over the Internet are my only refuge in circumstances of “not-being-sure-what-to-do”, or even in circumstances of “almost-every-time”. But with cooking, no no no no no no…! (Remember Small Wonder? 😛)

Help for cooking can only and only be taken from your mother. She’s the encyclopedia of cooking the food you know and like. There would be several database all over the web giving you detailed guidelines for cooking the perfect food, but do you like that? No.

You love the food your mother cooks for you. Yes there are things that your mother don’t cook, but for that we already have international restaurant chains. For the food that you eat everyday, mum’s your only rescue.

So I called her, and described in my lame and child-like way, the condition of vegetable. She understands my way well, hence, she stated what was to be thrown and what could be used. So in the end, I was left with four potatoes, some chili and some other things I don’t know the names of :D. I had bread. And I had all the equipments to cook. The only thing needed was knowledge and motivation.

Now my morning hunger had given me huge motivation to cook, but I always used to back out of it due to my past experience of cooking, which were disastrous for me, probably hilarious for you; and they didn’t consist of vegetable or floor or any such complex material (I mean they were ready-to-cook-packed-food only :P).

So I took a deep breath and started… But wait – from where?

*Calling mum* 😛

She told me what to do in a five minute conversation, step-by-step, process-by-process. So I started…

First thing was to peel off the potato. Now for those who know cooking, this is not a hard task at all, but please spare me, I had not even held knife in my whole life. (Exaggerating again… :P)

With a few instances of potato slipping away from me, I managed to do this. Then came steaming them. Now the tricky part was to put water in it. But what quantity? Mother said only that much to just sink the potatoes 1/5th in it. I calculated using my vision scale and put in exactly 1/5th potato deep water in the vessel. Put on the lid tight and waited for the whistles to blow.

The first one blew. I had to wait till three. So I went back to the paused movie… But then, one after other, the three whistles came real quick! I remembered my mother cooking and her whistles were little longer and had enough gap between two. I opened the lid to see that potato had not changed a bit. I put them again, and called mother. She told to do that yet another three times, probably I must have put more than required water (Actually the vessel had changed, the 1/5th calculation was for some other vessel 😛 This I came to know afterwards…)

I did the three times whistling four times. Finally the potato were as I wanted them to be. I crushed them and then put it in other container. Now, again the difficult task was to add different spices in it. I knew what all is to be added. I even knew their internal ratio – 2:3:6:10 (Yes, I had it calculated using the measurement converter app :D). But the problem was I couldn’t know the multiple that was required in this ratio for the quantity of food I was cooking.

Still I tried mixing stuff. Took a little bit of it and it tasted like – well it didn’t taste anything at all. Mother…

She told me to put a little more of some of them. I did that, but still it didn’t taste like it tasted for mother’s. I tried several experimental combinations of all the spices and could finally achieve the exact taste of the thing as my mother used to make. Wow! I felt like I had saved the humanity from the oncoming alien attack from three different alien planets together, all by myself…!! 😀

I quickly did the rest of the procedure of stirring and waiting and again stirring, and finally, voila! My dish was ready.

I felt so happy eating the stuff I had prepared and I was awesomely inspired for cooking more. (Actually I had cooked several times recently, but all those time, my mother was besides me to help me out. She did all the tricky parts, and I did all the cutting and mixing and stirring stuff.)


The good thing about being able to cook is that you can cook at any odd time and eat as many times as you like… 😛

So I drew a conclusion from this episode of my life… Food is the greatest of all motivators. It can inspire someone to create an amazing product, it can inspire someone to invent a great idea, it can inspire someone to work day-night and can inspire someone to travel miles on his feet.

If food was available in appropriate quantities to each and every living creature in this world, the world would have been a peaceful place. What do you think?

(Or at least I would be the happiest person in the whole universe, with nothing to do except eating! 😛 :D)