Tuesday, September 13, 2005

Grand chef abbu.

We decided it is high time for us to take control of our diets, and presto our already cramped abode had to make room for a kitchen. Now I am to say unwary of ways of a kitchen, but I sometimes felt a calling, something inside me wanting to be a chef, to hog asparagus and food of those sorts. When I once laid my eyes on a tin of shelled calms, I knew what my existence lacked; a kitchen.

Stove we got from a friend; it was the collateral requirements which burnt our pockets. I needed the list; rang my mom. She gave me a list of essentials; pans, vessels, spoons, knifes, storages boxes etc, then the topic moved on to cooker, the requirements here was of a 3.5 ltrs modest cooker, ample for two souls who wished to flatten the tyres around the tummies. But mom threw her weight behind 6 ltr, wide base, multi purpose one costing twice as much as the 3.5 ltr deluxe variety. She won’t relent, she spoke to the sales guy and I carried the cooker out. Later I got this inside info from sis that my mom owns the following 3.5, 5, 10 and 15 ltr cookers. (and on my way back, I found myself humming. ”all that she lacked is another baby, baby”).

Suhail was more than happy to inaugurate the kitchen and served me a great dish of chicken korma. The next morning, I don’t know how, I got up earlier than him and was apprehended, to get a packet of milk. When he poured the milk in indalium vessel, I realized to my amusement, that milk and curd packets are both moon white and the 500 ml of the both come in equal size packets and cost nearly the same and are tricky to distinguish when kept side by side. He was not amused and even chastised me about how to spread jam.

But I redeemed myself the same night, roties was decided to be the spread for the night. Suhail no matter how hard he tried could not roll chapathi right. I offered to help, but my frivolous smile cheated him, then after a umpteenth try I finally got to hold the ‘baalen’. and round and even chapathi were the surprising result.

Well I was never allowed into the kitchen when I was kid, cause I was accused of knocking things around and was sidelined to dinner table, and far from the environs of kitchen, rolling of chapaties was the activity where I crafted a niche for myself.

That’s it for now, but before I quit let me give few lesson to the intrepid cook.

Lessons for the intrepid cook:

1. There is always steam still left to bite in a cooker.
2. even chicken contain fat, and the butcher is not your best friend.
3. curd packet and milk packet are absolutely undistinguishable (unless you are a jerk who reads fine print).
4. so are salt and sugar..
5. salted chocolate drink is palatable
6. don’t boil dal in a vessel earmarked for otherstuffs.
7. “dal galti nahi”, has profound meanings (if you add sugar it will never).
8. A chef, is hence forth declared uncool.
9. boiled eggs spoil the next morning.
10. no matter what u do, a onion is a onion..
11. You spread jam over a slice by skating the spoon around, any other way u might have tried is wrong.

Tuesday, September 06, 2005

I command my blog here forth back to life, the elixir had to be forced down his unwilling throat, somehow I wrest a win and am accorded hence forth plenipotentiary powers .

But, my blog rebelled, why. Argued why.

The Argument:

Neolore: hey blog! Salams, I got it, I have found ….
Dying blog: w/salams.

Neolore: Damm it! U are nearly 2, cant u fend for u`r self, ....I got it, I have found it, found at last. Inferi gave me a tough time, but boy I got this for u., taste a drop, lil elixir. sweet lil elixir

Dying blog: leave me alone.
N: haan!!!!
back to sense ‘my-blog’, now be a good boy, I have head-full of worries. Drink it.

DB: I wont,
N: u wont
DB: wont wont wonttt !

N: Hmmm! I am sorry, Don’t be a bart, understand blog, I promise to be nice. Listen went to kottayam, it is so nice, u will find ur self obese in few postings, now be good. I got a head heavy of tensions, now please.

DB: ok but first tell me, how does it taste ?

N: jannu, it is for u, something for me, so complex, to encompass and map me, my whole gamut of emotions, fortify and secure me, I reckon needs a alchemist, mother earth, will find impossible to bear. Now gulp it up.

DB: wait, tell me, is this elixr mapping me here, pinning me down, jailing me here, I am to stay here, unwilling rot here, when I had rotten enough, when my spirit beckons to merge, or simply just want to loose itself to bliss. My pact wont allow it, u will exhibit my crumbling bones and i`ll be forced to rot here, forever. I won’t. I want salvation.

Neolore: come on, who wrote them into u, it was I, only I. Now come on u are just random bytes, no DNA only DNS(domain name system). You are simple electronic polarizations. Salvation or purgatory whatever that is, is definitely not for u.

DB: u are an unbeliever, and you claim to be complex, but Neolore you are treacherous, you are planting a bloody horcrux.I dont want to be horcrux, i cant be one. Please i beg.

Neolore: how u dare, I don’t need horcruxes, I wont use them, they don’t exist.Stop this bloody shit, rowlings she got to ur head.

(the argument went on, but it was no use, words or were they, figments of imaginations were having no effect, I had to unsheathe my sword, but the blog had a point, he mocked at me and my claimed complexity. Horcruxes!!! had he got a point there. But then i was weary of negotiations).

The fight:
It was not as simple I thought it would be, doubt is mans biggest weakness. Planning and strategy give us false sense of security, they stop us from reacting till we rust. I learned it the though way, only action gets me or anyone, anywhere.
I rummaged through the passwords, got the link, prepared my bramstra, to sound the death blow of the apprehensions. I finally post.