Is it taste that's important each time we savor our favorite dishes? What do we look for in every bite? Is it the right concoction of spices and meat or vegetables? Should it be cooked and served in traditional vessels? Is it the texture and the color? Or is there something more? I have come … Continue reading Comfort Food
1. Don't tell him they are leftovers. 2. Make it look different. 3. Give the recycled dish an anglicised name. 4. Serve it hot with garnish and tomato sauce. Enjoy while he eats the leftover aloo paratha stuffing disguised as Bobby Flay's potato hash. *Evil grin*
Alexithymia is the inability to describe emotions in a verbal manner. That is my state now. I cannot describe how the continuous pitter-patter of the rain outside is making me feel. It reminds me of something. Something ancient. Something from long long ago. Something from my childhood. Not that long really, fifteen years maybe. It … Continue reading Rain and coffee
Waiting Is what I hate the most It isn't easy To count the minutes The seconds . It is harder though To type With a hurt finger. Ladiesfinger. I sliced the vegetable And my finger. Never Be in a hurry When you have a knife In one hand And your finger On the chopping board. … Continue reading Ladiesfinger
Perceptions Change. Like the burnt underside of ruined toast That has been on the pan Too long The bread looks right till Turned over Now who is going to eat that toast?
The white and the yellow Slithers out From hardened calcium. It sizzles and pops On the pan Hot and black. A dash of spices Flip and wait And soon Breakfast is on your plate.
Leftovers, leftovers This and that The fridge is filled with The food that we had. Veggies and egg Dal and rice I need to cook little I need to cook wise. But whatever I do Is too little or too much. How do you cook just right And not eat it again for dinner or … Continue reading Cooking woes
On cookery shows: Burgers and pizza Steak and meat Endless amounts of oil they eat. I drool at them Stuck to my seat And then go back To my rice and wheat.
It has been a week since I set up a new home in a new city. Surprisingly the week was a good one. I had been apprehensive before I moved, about whether I will be able to take up the new responsibility and what if I will feel homesick. But I worried for no reason. … Continue reading New tidings
This poem was written because my sister felt that I never write anything 'happy-happy'. She said that all my thoughts are twisted and dark. In order to prove to her that I can write something which is happy she gave me three words: Flowers, ice cream, honey. And I was to write a poem using these … Continue reading Ice-cream