Temporarily Lost Forever
Once, we walked to a friend’s door. Now, we hesitate to call. Two months ago, I called a friend I have known for twenty years. He didn’t answer. We still haven’t spoken. I don’t know why he hasn’t called back. But I know the hesitation myself: seeing an old friend’s name on the phone, wanting to talk, and somehow not feeling ready for what should be a simple conversation. I remember a time when visiting a friend meant going to his house without knowing whether he would be there. Mobile phones weren’t part of our lives, and even a landline wasn’t something every household had. You went, knocked, and found out. There was anticipation on the way, disappointment if he was absent, excitement if he was home. If you missed him, you might try again the next day. None of this felt like too much trouble. Now, the same friend is an instant message away. Yet we can go months without speaking. ...
Last evening was pretty eventful. As the thermometer was struggling to get the mercury levels rising, the dipping temperature provided us the ideal platform to test our Bajji making skills. The Bajji mavu, potatoes, chillies (rather Jalapeno) and onions were laid on a platter, with one of us cutting the potatoes and onions, and the other making the dough. It is always exciting to try something new and we weren't sure how good the final product would be. Of course, we were smacking our lips by just imagining how good it would be. As the oil in the tava warmed up to a nicety, the potato was dipped into the semi-solidified bajji mavu, propped up beautifully and finally immersed into the frying pan. KccchhhhK! Wow! What a noise! After a long time, it was good to hear the splattering potato in the oil. It was music to our ears. As the bajji emerged out of the frying pan, all of us were eyeing it with a sense of contentment and pride. Obviously! Who gets to make bajjis everyday. The bajji quickly was torn into four pieces and each of us were quick to gulp the miniscule piece in glee. And then, the packet of vadaam (fryums) also emerged from the suitcase. C'mon, if we can make bajjis, why can'y we fry up the vadaam. Yeps! It did sound nice! And so after about 45 minutes of painstaking effort, we had a big vessel containing the delicious jevarisi vadaam and bajjis.
I guess Blonda would have been a better name.
ReplyDeleteWow.. bajji-sojji ellama? Yaaravadhu unna maapizhai parka vandhangala enna?? Cool, you guys seemt o be having fun
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