Skip to main content

Serendipity Salad

It is not everyday that you stumble upon things. You come across a YouTube video in your recommendation and you found the best troll video of the decade. You are browsing through your Netflix account (Of course, we exist, who have their own Netflix account. Not all of us are Parasite ;)). You walk around the supermall isle and randomly find interesting stuff that changes your home? It did happen to me the other day. My brother wanted cereals for his breakfast (I get it. Its lockdown. He doesn't want to end up breaking the door to go out once this is done). I decide to get ragi flakes for him. Why? I am evil. But none us liked the taste of it. That was when we found some soggy fried chana. What followed was a beautiful symphony (at least in my mind) as I moved across the kitchen, gracefully messing the kitchen counter with peels and ends off the chopped vegetables, sprinkle of the salt and masalas on the floor, umpteen number of vessels all for the sake of preparing a humble salad. 

Any salad, for me, starts with onion and tomato. Then goes the fresh herbs (coriander! pudina!) that you can lay your hands on. Add a kick to it with either fresh green chilli or ground pepper or chilli flakes. I added a sad-looking carrot from the bottom of the tundra because it too deserves a proper send-off (might trouble the stomach later). Now as for the acidity, we went for lemon, because we found a half of it in our fridge door. My mother's grandmother used to say "uppila sappadu kupayile" which means any food without salt deserves to be in the trash (sassy granny!). Add salt. Now go for salsa or waltz or kathak with the mixture. You really need to mix up the things you know ;). Done. Not yet. Do a chef's kiss. Now done. Go ahead and serve. Patiently wait for the criticism to come up as you feed that hungry stomach and salivating mouth.      

Popular posts from this blog

Miss you Labi

My best comrade was my Ladybird or Labi as I call her. Labi accompanied me to school without any morning blues.We went shopping and racing together.She never gave me any trouble,except a loose screw here and there.She carried my burden of school bag as if that was a fallen feather. The time that we spent together gave me bitter-sweet memories.The burst of wind in my face and the panting after a race led me into her world.How can I escape from it now?? But time has come for us to separate.She has retired and decided to rest..but I shall never let her rust...

Parallel Lines

Sitting in the sea facing balcony and seeing the sun set always gave Neena the particular feeling of nostalgia. No matter what, she could never forget her past. It was vividly embossed in her. Such was her life. She never imagined she could see Bombay and she would never even have heard of this land of dreams- Mayapuri, if not for Chako, her husband. Chacko and Neena belonged to the same parish. She met him for the first time on a Easter Sunday. They had an instant connection. He became her bestfriend.  Growing up in an orthodox Christian family in Kerala, with a zamindari father where no one dared to go beyond his words, she had no choice of her own or any women of her family. When she turned 18, her father received proposals for her hand in marriage. It was then for the first time in her life that she spoke against her father. "No", said Neena. Her mother and grandmother stood transfixed. "I am leaving with Chako". With a heavy heart and a silence, she left that p

Caged

It's 10 already! Oh! But how does it matter to me? For I'm Caged. The crowd gazed at me. through their sunglasses. Took selfies. They poke and peer. As the sun goes up, I'm fed as if I am a baby. It's for survival, they said. Smirking at the hypocrisy, I ate my prey. The sun goes down. Oh! But how does it matter to me? for I'm caged.