The little Big Fight

it creeps up on me

as slimy as ever,

i writhe in its touch

entangled in its gossamer,

then it pops up a question:

"when will you, my dear?"

i jostle around

in my wonderland surreal,

juggling the question

not believing i'm in peril

i pretend to have not heard -

the omen that is now so real

the writing is etched on the wall

its naked elements exposed

i give it one last shot

perhaps it is all I've got

alas! the will is lost in vain...

and my conscience wins again!

P.S: every morning my conscience teases me - wake up at 6, huh?

Of Candle light dinners and the dark ages

Courtesy : toonpool

I can distinctly recall that one memorable day from our courtship days. Mr. Right went all out of his slothful way, to make me a dinner that I'll always remember. The 'tried-to' barbeque chicken, the fried 'hilsa', the sautéed tiger prawns all with a splash of Maggi hot-n-sour sauce. I'm not so sure whether he has bartended before but the Smirnoff-Tropicana lychee cocktail was a killer. The yummy masala cheese cubes and the strawberry with cream still linger in the memory of my taste buds. I could cross seven Antarcticas for him!

I had shut off the lights and lit some candles left over from Diwali. We had the most beautiful romantic dinner anybody anywhere could ever have had.

Someone wise had said that 'With great power comes greater responsibility'. He or she was not wise enough to include the lesser souls like me, who have 'no power' at all. Which means that I cannot start the washing machine, I cannot open my inbox nor can I play pop-in, pop-out with my toaster.

Every morning the Mister and I make a list of to-do's and as soon as he's out to office, the power takes a cue and goes for a nap. The to-do's listed under my name have piled up so high, that if we were to do a see-saw with our list of to-do's, the Mister will be seen smiling and waving cheerfully from the 'up' side.

Although he calls me a perfectionist, deep in my heart I know what he really means to say. He is actually fed up with me taking forever and ever and ever and the frequent power cuts do not help my cause either. I'm not a sucker for the idiot box and reality shows bore me to the peak. More so, I haven't even re-subscribed to our DTH. God knows I'm even contemplating a mini-Nirvana every time the power goes off. But who is to tell the Mister that? He has a picture of me sitting delighted, relaxing my butts on the 'down' side of the see-saw and fanning myself with the exotic hand fan I had bought during our honeymoon with one hand and my list of to-do's in the other.

I have no intention of celebrating 'Earth Hour' every hour of my daytime nor do I relish smelling my armpits. At most I wish to end the Dark Ages with a peaceful candle light dinner. I have four boxes of plain white candles, a box of scented candles, a teddy bear candle from my recent birthday and a red glass candle stand that slouches rather passionately beside the bed. I wish someone out there 'plucks out' that memorable day and waves it in front of the Mister. 

He gives one glance at the meter box and it winks back 'I'm on work strike mate!'. The Mister then promptly takes me out for a quick fix dinner at any one of our neighbourhood restaurants. I'm certain that the owners of these restaurants are bribing my meter box. Corruption is everywhere!

But with the frequent power cuts, we both have come to the same conclusion which is a rarity in our case - 'with no power comes no responsibility'. Adios Antarctica!

Of Coffee Connoisseurs and Chai Shaukeens...

I still remember the day vividly. That was the day I had told my mother that I have found my Mr. Right at last. In my heart, I always believed that there is light at the end of the tunnel. But she confirmed it nearly thrice a la Big B style and eventually locked it after a few days of resigned contemplation. The question mark on her face was too evident so neither did she smile nor heave a sigh of relief for her ignorant daughter.

For those who are unaccustomed to my very basic wishes in Mr. Right, please read an earlier post written with all the mighty stupidity I've been bestowed with. I'll unravel them layer by layer as I have nothing better to do now.

A few glimpses of Mr. Right begin to show from the honeymoon onwards. Although the risk of sounding like a nagger looms large over my head, I promise to put down only pure facts and nothing more here.

The coffee is breathtaking at Coorg. Mind you I said Breathtaking alone which means it takes my breath away when its brewing. Where on Earth or the other planets have I claimed to love coffee or even know how to brew a decent one?

I was a  'Complan Girl' right from my kindergarten who retaliated in her adolosence to become a diehard 'chai-shaukeen', especially with an essence of ginger - a most exotic and cute sounding spice. But who is to explain this to the Mister. Yeah, my Mr. Right is the Mister now and I know now that the light at the end of the tunnel was just another lost soul with a torch in his hand.

The Mister sipped loads of black coffee in an aura of divinity while I watched in daze. I was after all a cutting-chai types. Cut to present when we are as good as an old couple with all 'Niceties' of speech and manner nearly vanished, we have become what we were to begin with.

The Mister will not shut the toilet seat; I can see my mum smiling now. She was smiling when I had told her how he cleans and scrubs every inch of the bathroom and the toilet bowl, every time i came visiting. Little did I know that it was just a quick fix before the arrival of the school inspector. It so happened that yesterday he came in early and asked for coffee which is very rare. I was delighted and nearly jumped up in glee, that a lowly 'chai-shaukeen' was offered the task of preparing the royal beverage - coffee! 

In my divine glee, I not only boiled the filtered coffee powder but also watched in horror as it spilt out in all its Vesuvius fury. Before I could wipe out all evidence, I realised the Mister had witnessed the entire 'open-and-shut' case with a rather wide open mouth. He couldn't bring himself to speak for a few seconds.

After some life-changing moments had passed by, he started blabbering something what now seems to be just my mum smiling away in all her glory. Your Mr. Right, huh?

What can a ginger-tea lover possibly know about brewing exotic roasted and powdered and refined coffee beans? Well, nothing really. The Mister has realised that and now handles all the delicate coffee management devices in our kitchen. It is not so often that 'realisation' hits so hard. For someone who promised to try the lowly 'adrak-chai' in the name of love, now protects his royal coffee from chai pollution.

I can see my mum's smirky smile, flash back to that mushy day and cut back to this dreadful day and my mum smiles all the way.