"Da" Man-Manu, the CEO off from work and I, the to-be psychologist on a brief hiatus, decided to eat well today, for a change. 'No counting calories and fats this evening', we decided and arrived at an unianimous decision to make vegetable cutlets.
All things neatly set out, we finished making it and fabulous results made our day. The time had come to try the much anticipated cutlets... *smack, smack*. On second thoughts, we thought maybe we should take eating deep fried stuff a little more seriously than we had previously thought. So we resolved our inner turmoils by setting the number of cutlets to 3, no no... 4 per person. We sat down with all applicable sauces in the vicinity, gaping achingly at the beautiful cutlets gently set on a plate. Each of us helped ourselves to 2 patties first. Closing our eyes, we ate it savouring each minute morsel of it. For a brief moment of time, it was as if we had been transported to another world. When our fingers found no more promised food on the plate, we opened our eyes. We looked at each other, and our faces conveyed the unspoken agreement to just have 2 more each. So we did, and the heart followed the same protocol all over again, and again...
There had been absolute slience for the last 10 minutes barring an occassional munching now and then. There were just two left, out of the originally made 18, which meant each of us had had about 8 each!!! Was that an acceptable number even if we had managed to live in Ethiopia under the gravest of circumstances? Manu moved away from the table trying to salvage any remaining promises leave alone self-esteem, while I.... sat there strumming my fingers on the table. "Does it really make sense to leave this here, guess we might anyway polish this off in less than an hour"? my scrupulous self blurted out. His eyes gleamed with mischeif while his legs stopped dead in his tracks. He nodded and we dived into the plate again, each helping ourselves generously.
A sumptuous satiated feeling ushered in a sense of pall, while the never ending act of gorging left us both vaguely resembling a pair of large beached whales.
We sat down dully, an almost ominous plop threatening to monopolize each other's space on the sofa. We gazed intently, yet aimlessly at the TV screen which had been running for quite sometime.
I had a very weird feeling that I will have to run to all places including India, the next time I decided to move. I glanced at Manu, who apparently seemed very normal, moving his tiny toes and fingers to keep rigor mortis from setting in. As for me, I diligently opened my laptop and started typing this out....
P.S: I have quite regained mobility of my fingers by this time, 10 minutes into writing this article. Not bad for 9 cutlets at one shot, ehn?? *wink*
All things neatly set out, we finished making it and fabulous results made our day. The time had come to try the much anticipated cutlets... *smack, smack*. On second thoughts, we thought maybe we should take eating deep fried stuff a little more seriously than we had previously thought. So we resolved our inner turmoils by setting the number of cutlets to 3, no no... 4 per person. We sat down with all applicable sauces in the vicinity, gaping achingly at the beautiful cutlets gently set on a plate. Each of us helped ourselves to 2 patties first. Closing our eyes, we ate it savouring each minute morsel of it. For a brief moment of time, it was as if we had been transported to another world. When our fingers found no more promised food on the plate, we opened our eyes. We looked at each other, and our faces conveyed the unspoken agreement to just have 2 more each. So we did, and the heart followed the same protocol all over again, and again...
There had been absolute slience for the last 10 minutes barring an occassional munching now and then. There were just two left, out of the originally made 18, which meant each of us had had about 8 each!!! Was that an acceptable number even if we had managed to live in Ethiopia under the gravest of circumstances? Manu moved away from the table trying to salvage any remaining promises leave alone self-esteem, while I.... sat there strumming my fingers on the table. "Does it really make sense to leave this here, guess we might anyway polish this off in less than an hour"? my scrupulous self blurted out. His eyes gleamed with mischeif while his legs stopped dead in his tracks. He nodded and we dived into the plate again, each helping ourselves generously.
A sumptuous satiated feeling ushered in a sense of pall, while the never ending act of gorging left us both vaguely resembling a pair of large beached whales.
We sat down dully, an almost ominous plop threatening to monopolize each other's space on the sofa. We gazed intently, yet aimlessly at the TV screen which had been running for quite sometime.
I had a very weird feeling that I will have to run to all places including India, the next time I decided to move. I glanced at Manu, who apparently seemed very normal, moving his tiny toes and fingers to keep rigor mortis from setting in. As for me, I diligently opened my laptop and started typing this out....
P.S: I have quite regained mobility of my fingers by this time, 10 minutes into writing this article. Not bad for 9 cutlets at one shot, ehn?? *wink*
2 comments:
Sigh! How I wish I had sampled those cutlets! :(
Neat narration Meera - you are becoming such a regular blogger these days - am so glad about it.
9 cutlets Meera! Podhumaa??
Nicely written!
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